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A few days later, Sunday arrived, and August found himself sitting in church with his family. He’d encouraged his parents to sit next to his sisters that day as he took the end of the pew. He didn’t think it would be suitable for him to sit beside Ophelia and Portia through services when he still had yet to forgive them for their ridiculous scolding of him.

The organ’s rich tone was played throughout the church as the rest of the congregation merged into the building attached to the castle at the top of the Mount. The church was different than most others August had seen, what with the thick stone used for pillars, walls, and roofing instead of a weaker wood. Even the stain-glassed windows could rival Bath Abbey’s.

Or so his proud Cornish heart liked to believe.

The church was originally built more than seven hundred years before, though refurbished a time or two—the latest renovations finishing up only a few years before, as per Sir John’s wishes.

The wait was long to meet at the church on the Mount, but it was well worth it. How those islanders, August included, loved joining together in their church. His favorite part was the bronze figure of St. Michael defeating the devil, though the saint still offered the creature the hand of mercy.

August stared at the statue. If the devil could be shown the hand of mercy after all he’d done…would August receive such mercy, too?

His eyes once again darted to the doorway as another person entered. Every time Livvy didn’t appear, however, his anticipation only increased. That is, until he did see her, accompanied, of course, by her father.

Somehow, August had managed to avoid the man for days, the busyness of the castle’s gardens at spring leaving next to no time to speak of little else between the gardeners.

August wasn’t about to complain. Any more time he could buy away from Mr. May would only serve him well, as August continued to worry himself over how exactly he could satisfy the man’s demands…all without doing anything he demanded.

As Mr. May filed down the row of seats a few pews ahead of August and his family, August sat a little taller, hoping to catch Livvy’s attention. To his good fortune, she glanced up, meeting his eyes squarely. He smiled in greeting, hoping his sisters would notice just so he could rile them up further.

But Livvy didn’t return his smile. Instead, she looked away without so much of a nod and faced forward beside her father.

August’s smile faded away. Now he hoped his sisters hadn’t seen what had turned into the strangest of rejections.

What was that about? Had Mr. May told her about coercing August into his plan? No, her father had been adamant that the whole affair be done in secrecy.

So what else had made her not smile at him? Was she upset that he’d covertly returned her reticule to her via her maid and their footman?

When his sisters had happened upon them outside the graveyard, he’d realized just in time that he still held her reticule, so he’d swiftly tucked it into his jacket. He would have returned it himself, but he’d been afraid to happen upon Mr. May instead of his daughter.

That hardly seemed the type of thing for Livvy to be upset about, though. So was she merely annoyed with how his sisters had ended their conversation—and his affection—prematurely?

He knew he had been. He was happy to have her leave, however, for he couldn’t have handled Livvy listening to their harsh, judgmental words. He’d asked his sisters to keep what they’d seen to themselves, but, sadly, he didn’t know if he could trust them anymore. They’d seemed to have developed an obsession with spreading gossip that could not be satisfied, even if it included ruining people’s lives.

He’d spoken with his parents about this only yesterday, and while Mother and Father had also expressed their concerns, they didn’t understand the urgency that August felt to change his sisters’ ways. After all, he couldn’t very well reveal to them the damage that could be done to so many on the Mount if they started wagging their tongues further.

“Unfortunately,” Mother had said, “your sisters ’ave far too much o’ me own sisters in ’em.”

August grimaced even now at the thought. Mother’s elderly, spinster sisters who lived on the mainland in St. Ives were generally kind, caring individuals. But they had a propensity to share untrue facts about others more than anyone August had ever known. According to Mother, Ophelia and Portia had spent a summer a few years ago with their aunts and had returned quite altered.

“Your sisters’ll see the err in their ways eventually,” Father had said. “At any rate, they must make their own choices and face the consequences as they come.”

But August did not have such faith in them. Not when their unkindness extended to Livvy.

As the service began, his eyes drifted to the back of her bonnet. Something had to be upsetting her. Why else would she have snubbed him? Did her father’s presence have to do with it? Mr. May always put August in a bad mood, so that idea might not be so very far-fetched.

August’s worrisome musings continued, though he did his best to listen to the sermon until it ended, and the congregation began to file out of the church one by one, thanking the vicar for his words.

Despite his best effort, August couldn’t slip into the aisles until long after Livvy had left the building. He moved at a snail’s pace with the rest of the congregation, feeling like one cow in a herd of a thousand until he finally exited and cast his eyes around the courtyard, a few people lingering while others were already headed down the Mount.

He caught sight of Livvy quickly, who stood with Mr. May and the Pengellys. She spoke with Emma, smiling despite her ducked head, which warmed August’s heart. He knew how difficult it was for Livvy to speak with others. The effort she’d put in with him at the graveyard had been admirable, to say the least.

He’d been so distracted digging up weeds from the wet dirt, deep in thought about all the terrible things that might occur if he continued to pursue Miss May in secret, that when she appeared, he’d been unable to remain present and happy until well into their conversation.

Then, of course, he’d overstepped his bounds and caressed the woman—caressed her, for heaven’s sake.

Even now, standing outside of the church doors with his family, the memory of her soft skin sent his pulse racing.

He watched her for a moment as she continued to speak with Emma, entirely captivated by her dark curls rustling in the cool breeze.