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As night fell, she’d wrapped herself up in her warm shawl and cuddled up in her bed with the window slightly parted to better allow the sound of the sea inside. There, she had remained for the last two hours—with no intention of ending any time soon. How could she when she only had a few chapters left of The Mysteries of Udolpho?

The gothic story, as she’d hoped, had turned out to be quite exhilarating. She could hardly wait to see what happened to Emily St. Aubert, not to mention the mysteries interwoven throughout the story. Who was behind all the strange voices Emily heard? And did she truly see a figure behind a veil?

Livvy wouldn’t have to wonder for much longer. Nothing could distract her now from finishing—

A long creak sounded from the window, echoing from the path below, and Livvy’s heart jumped straight out of her chest. Her mind envisioned ghosts opening people’s doors and floating out across the harbor, but she swiftly rebuked her ludicrousness.

She was becoming far too absorbed in this novel. Fears of ghosts and specters and supernatural events. It was all rather ridiculous. The sound she’d heard had no doubt been a door opening. Not Livvy’s, though. Theirs didn’t make a sound. But the Moons?

Her heart jumped for a different reason. She tried to maintain her focus on the words, which for her should not be difficult. After all, she’d just discovered that St. Auburn was the Marchioness’s brother. But as the creak sounded again, her eyes found their way to her open window once more.

Whoever had opened the door would be gone by now—or they would have entered the residence already. It was no doubt a servant. Or perhaps Mr. Moon had stayed out late like Father had that night and was only now just returning from the pub.

Whoever it had been, it was surely not August.

And yet, she could check…just to be sure.

With quick movements, she set her book aside, flung back her covers, and tiptoed to the window, carrying her candle alongside her.

Slowly, she peeled back the curtains and peered through the open window, her braid falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward.

She could only just make out the front area of the Moons’ house, but to her utter shock, August stood outside the door, his hands on his hips as he stared out over the harbor.

Somehow, she’d known it was him, yet still, her heart rapped against her chest. She watched him for a moment, his eyes focusing ahead until he looked straight up to her window without warning.

The blood drained from her face, and she gasped, pulling the curtains back in place to ensure she remained hidden.

He’d seen her. She knew he had. Would he think that she had been staring at him for long? Just being her strange, hermit self? But then, she was certain she’d not made a sound, so what had made him look up to her room in the first place?

“Miss May?”

She started at his soft voice. Heavens above. He was calling out to her. What should she do? Pretend she hadn’t heard? Go back to bed to read more of Emily and the horrifying Castle Udolpho?

Or should she respond? Have a late-night conversation with a man who was calling to speak with her?

A smile spread across her lips. Once again, she pushed the curtains back and peered down at the pathway.

August had moved slightly closer to her home and was now facing it directly. “I thought that was ye,” he said, his eyes shining up at her, the light from the candle in her room pouring down across his sculpted features. “What are ye doin’ up so late?”

“I be—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Do not tell me. Be ye readin’?”

She was fairly certain her heart was going to burst. “’Ow did ye know?”

“Merely a guess.” He winked.

Her heart tripped. Was that what friends did with one another—wink when they teased? Or did he mean something more by the gesture? “And what ye be doin’ out so late?” she whispered, eying the harbor and pathway to ensure they were alone.

“I merely be takin’ a midnight stroll.”

She paused. He seemed to be telling the truth. Or was it but a half-truth and he was truly going to meet with Miss Pengelly?

The image of Mr. Cuff accepting the letter from August in the gardens flashed through her mind again. She’d been thinking about it often since that morning and had yet to be secure in her hunch that Mr. Cuff and Miss Pengelly were attached. It made perfect sense, what with how indifferent August seemed with the woman, but then, why did he never deny the fact that they weren’t a couple?

Perhaps she could receive another clue right now, ask him a question where she could deduce the truth from him further. She scrambled for a response, then peered down at him.

“Be ye walkin’ alone?” she asked.