Page 51

“It be all in a day’s work for me,” August joked.

He sat down, then, using the outside of one stocking to dry off his legs and around his neck, though the water from his hair and pants trickled down to wet them once again.

“I noticed ye were speakin’ to Miss May just then.”

All at once, August’s mood shifted. He scrambled to return to the joy he’d felt before, but even then, he knew it had been fleeting and even false at times.

After all, how could he be truly happy when he was being extorted?

“She was just watchin’ to ensure the girl received her shoe,” he returned.

He didn’t like lying to Nicholas. He despised it. But then, how could he tell his friend the truth when August had somehow embroiled his friend and his friend’s intended in this entire mess?

He shook his head. No, he had not embroiled them. Mr. May had.

He glanced toward the Mays’ house situated right next to his family’s, trying hard to release the anger that was still pent-up within him from Mr. May’s actions.

A movement caught his attention in the corner of his eye, and he shifted his gaze to the top window where yellow curtains fluttered. Beyond them stood Miss May, her eyes directed at him, but she darted swiftly out of the way and the curtains closed.

He smiled to himself. If Mr. May made him as livid as he’d ever been, Miss May was swiftly making him happier than he’d ever been. Which was a problem in and of itself. He found far too much joy being around the woman he was supposed to help convince off the Mount.

But then, he wasn’t going to do that, was he?

After another attempt at getting dry, August set his stockings aside in frustration, though he knew they had nothing to do with his dropping mood. How he wished he’d never spoken with Mr. May. Things had been going so well. He could have continued to befriend Miss May naturally, all while helping Emma and Nicholas come together. Then when his friends married, August would have been more than fine to pursue Miss May. But now? Now he was falling for the charm and sweet nature of a woman he could never have.

A woman who knew he could sing.

He glanced once again to the window, but Miss May was no longer in sight.

August considered himself secure in his talents and abilities in every way but one—singing. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t good at it. In fact, he thought he was fairly talented. But for one reason or another, singing in front of others—family, friends, and strangers alike—always made him vastly uncomfortable.

So how did Miss May know he could sing? She’d said she’d heard him in church, but August made it a point to never sing louder than a whisper during Sunday services. The only place he did sing was when he was gardening, but only ever when he was certain he was alone. Had she somehow heard him? Snuck up on him without him being aware?

“August?” He focused his attention on Nicholas, his friend narrowing his eyes. “Are ye well?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“’Cause I’ve been talkin’ to ye for the last five minutes and ye ‘aven’t ’eard a word I’ve said.”

August blew out a quiet breath and approached the edge of the wall, ready to begin casting his line into the water, if only to distract himself from his thoughts.

“Forgive me, Nicholas,” August mumbled. “I’ve been distracted o’ late.”

“Distracted with a certain girl, I take it?”

August cast a sidelong glance at Nicholas. “I take it ye and Emma ’ave been speakin’ o’ me.”

Nicholas smiled sheepishly. “Per’aps we ’ave. But only ’cause we care ’bout ye. We’ve noticed ye’ve seemed…”

“Preoccupied?”

“Not yourself,” Nicholas said instead.

August couldn’t have agreed more. It was true. He’d not been himself for days now, ever since Mr. May’s request and subsequent threats.

“We figured it be ’bout Miss May and,” Nicholas paused, clearing his throat, “a newfound attachment to ’er.”

August didn’t speak for a moment, his eyes following a group of men leaving from the edge of the harbor.