Page 8

She blew out a sigh, peering up at the Mount as she neared it. Her skirts had become tangled up in those wretched branches many times before. Why had she not had the foresight that such a thing might occur again?

Honestly, this was the worst thing that could have happened to her. Being spotted by August Moon when she was stuck in the bushes, being helped by August Moon to emerge from said bushes, and then being asked by August Moon if she was, in actuality, reading in the bushes.

Reading in the bushes.

She pressed a hand to her brow, as if hiding her face could somehow diminish her mortification. Of course it didn’t. Nothing could. She hadn’t even had the courage to explain what she had been doing. Her words had come out in a squeak, then they’d simply…stopped.

That shouldn’t surprise her. Such a thing was commonplace for her when an audience larger than one or two persons stared at her, as if expecting her to fail.

And Miss Ophelia and Miss Portia Moon were definitely expecting her to fail.

She groaned under her breath. Those girls. They always seemed to appear when Livvy was at her worst. Emerging from bushes with books in hand. Laughing to herself aloud when she thought of something funny. Falling flat onto her face in the mud after running during a storm.

When it all came down to it, Livvy was the one to be blamed for putting herself in such awkward situations. But those girls always knew what to say to annoy her, just as they had when they were children. That was one reason they’d never been friends, despite living next door to one another for the entirety of their lives.

That didn’t explain her reasoning for not being friends with Miss Emma Pengelly, though. The blonde-haired, hazel-eyed beauty appeared in Livvy’s mind as the specter who always haunted her dreams.

Very well, she was feeding into her inner Catherine Morland with that comment. In all honesty, Livvy was simply and monumentally envious of Miss Pengelly for no other reason other than the woman’s friendship with August.

How Livvy wished to hate her, but Miss Pengelly had to be the kindest woman on the Mount. Despite being nearly seven years Livvy’s senior, the woman had never treated her with an ounce of disdain or condescension. Even today, when Livvy had made quite the spectacle of herself, Miss Pengelly had still invited her to join their party—which was more than could be said of the Moon sisters’ poking fun at the leaves in Livvy’s hair.

A couple walked by on the causeway, drawing Livvy’s attention to the present. She delivered a brief smile in greeting, then dipped her head to avoid any chance of the couple stopping to speak with her. As if anyone ever would know. They all knew she liked to keep to herself.

She feared she may have ruined her reputation forever, and yet, somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to mind. She didn’t care for trivial conversations with strangers, nor did she wish for deep discussions about her own past. She was therefore caught in the middle of her desires, the simplest solution being that of speaking with others about books—or not speaking to anyone at all.

Just like a hermit.

She puffed out her cheeks with another sigh. She did not like to berate herself like she had done today. The truth of the matter was that she quite liked who she was. She wasn’t ever rude to anyone—as far as she was aware—but she also would not conform to how Society wished her to behave. She had her mother to thank for that.

And while she occasionally wondered what life would be like if she simply chose to change who she fundamentally was—to be normal just like everyone else—she knew, deep down, she could never be happy being a ghost of her former self.

Which meant she would simply have to accept the fact that her first meeting with August upon his return to the Mount had been a disaster instead of the stirring moment she’d concocted in her addled brain that apparently was filled with nothing but literary romance and adventure.

She glanced across the sand and stones that had been revealed at the low tide—a few petrified remains of ancient trees sticking out and boasting of their dark wood. She needed to take a step back, to breathe and relax. There was nothing to be done now about the issue. August would simply think her as odd as everyone else did, and she was…mostly fine with that.

Her stomach tied in knots. That was a heinous lie. She was not fine with it at all. She couldn’t bear the thought of August thinking she was strange, peculiar, odd, difficult, and every other word they used to describe her. But what could be done? Short of trying to prove that everyone was wrong about her strangeness—even though they were right—or perhaps explaining to August herself what she had been doing…

Her eyes flew open, an idea sparking in her mind. He’d invited her to dinner that evening. Could she…No, that would be preposterous. Hardly worth the sacrifice of socializing.

But then, to have the chance to salvage her reputation in regard to August was certainly tempting.

She used to dream of his return to the Mount, that she would make such a charming impression that he would drop everything and marry her in a matter of days. But such a dream had obviously been born during her obsession with unrealistic romance novels. Her life was far better suited to Shakespeare’s tragedies now. Or his comedies. She knew if the impossible happened and she did draw closer to August, she would have to reveal the secrets she had bottled up inside her heart for years—but that was something she had promised herself she’d never do.

And yet, the mere thought of having another moment of August’s attention as she’d enjoyed in the bushes was enough to make her pause.

Her blush picked up despite the cool wind on her cheeks, though this blush wasn’t caused by the embarrassment she’d felt earlier, merely by the memory of August’s eyes exploring her face. He’d appeared amused by the whole situation, but there had been something else written across his expression as he’d perused her features. Almost as if he had been admiring her features.

She knew she was not the most attractive of creatures on the Mount, but she did not believe herself to be unattractive, either. To think that August Moon, Charmer of St. Michael’s Mount, could find her pleasant to look at was beyond anything she could ever hope for.

Of course, any admiration on his part would have faded once he’d seen the books in her hands.

Her embarrassment returned. She obviously had a choice to make. Allow August to continue thinking she was as strange as everyone said she was—rather than just the small amount of strange that she actually was—thereby ending all future hope she might have of him looking at her the same way he had a few moments ago…or she had to find the courage she wasn’t sure she had to explain her behavior to the man she’d never been able to speak with before that afternoon.

She arrived home before she could decide.

Reaching forward, she opened the door to her small, two-story, blue-colored house soundlessly. Over the years, she had discovered all that was needed was slight pressure on the handle to keep the top hinge from creaking—a handy trick whenever she came home far too late after getting carried away with her reading.

Closing the door behind her, she faced the corridor without a whisper of a sound.