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She’d promised not to believe anything the Moon sisters had said about August and his supposed relationship until she heard the truth from the man himself, so perhaps she ought to delve into that truth right now.
With a mouth as dry as sand untouched by the sea and a stomach filled with stones, she forced herself to begin the conversation. “Does Miss Pengelly read much?” she asked, forcing a light tone.
August paused, looking to the floor in thought. “I’m unsure, actually.”
Livvy paused. Even after all the years they’d known one another and had been friends, he didn’t know such a simple thing as Miss Pengelly’s reading habits? That had to be a sign contrary to what his sisters had been saying, had it not?
“So ’ave ye a favorite Shakespeare play?” August asked, swerving around their previous conversation.
Instead of feeling flattered at his continued attention, confusion gripped Livvy’s mind. She knew he’d been flirting with her. Just as she knew she’d seen admiration in his eyes when he looked at her. And as shocking as it was for her to hope that someone like August Moon could simply be interested in her—her, of all people—she knew August to be an honorable man. He would not be showing her this sort of attention unless he, himself, was unattached.
There was nothing more to it. His sisters had simply been misinformed. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time they’d engaged in spreading false rumors about someone on the Mount, now would it?
Setting aside any remaining unease, Livvy faced August with a smile. “I’ve written a few lists to narrow it down, but—”
“Lists?” August interrupted.
She nodded, then hesitated. Was that not a normal thing to do either? “’Ow else would I decide if I didn’t make a list o’ the qualifications of each book?”
His lip twitched. “Ye do take this seriously.”
Yes, she did. But maybe she ought not. Perhaps if she made light of her behavior, he wouldn’t think her as strange. “Oh, I do. It be as serious as choosin’ a spouse, I think.”
Her ridiculous statement resulted in a chuckle from August, which was exactly what she’d been hoping for. “Very well, so ye’ve written your lists. And what did ye come to decide?”
Despite his obvious teasing, he did seem genuinely interested. Why else would he focus so much attention on her?
“Hamlet be me favorite. Followed closely by Macbeth.”
August’s brows arched in surprise. “Really? I was expectin’ Romeo and Juliet or one o’ the other romances to take the spot.”
She guffawed, only realizing too late how very unladylike such a sound was. August didn’t seem to notice, though.
Still, she cleared her throat and began again. “Romeo and Juliet be better described as a tragedy, I believe.”
“One ye don’t appreciate?” he guessed.
“Oh, it ’as many merits, as does any book. But I will say that the story was simply not for me. I’d ne’er go so far as to tell Shakespeare such a thing, though.”
“I be sure ’e appreciates that.”
“’E does. E’en deceased writers ’ave feelin’s.”
CHAPTER TEN
“We cannot judge either of the feelings or of the characters of men with perfect accuracy from their actions or their appearance in public; it is from their…half-finished sentences, that we may hope with the greatest probability of success to discover their real characters.”
Castle Rackrent, Maria Edgeworth
August was pleased to have caused Miss May to laugh yet again. The sight of her dazzling smile was enough to make him desire the same for the rest of the evening and beyond.
He still didn’t understand why his family had been so shocked that she would be joining them that evening.
“She ’asn’t attended a social gatherin’ in o’er a year, if not more,” Mother had explained before the Mays had arrived. “She doesn’t enjoy socializin’.”
Seeing Miss May now, though, August had a hard time believing Mother’s words. Yes, Miss May had been rather silent throughout dinner, but could she be blamed for not attempting to speak over her father and his sisters? At any rate, her ability to carry on a conversation, and a pleasant one at that, proved his mother may have been misinformed—possibly by his very sisters.
He glanced over his shoulders to where Ophelia and Portia spoke in hushed tones to one another, their heads close together as if plotting something secret—all while his parents spoke with Mr. Moon.
