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Using all of his energy, he tore his eyes away from her and motioned north to where the causeway stretched out to Marazion.

Livvy’s eyes followed his, and the release of her breath from her lips told him all he needed to know.

He had been forgiven for bringing her out here.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“It is the very error of the moon. She comes more nearer earth than she was wont. And makes men mad.”

Othello, William Shakespeare

“It be breathtakin’,” Livvy breathed, removing the hood of her cloak.

August couldn’t agree more. From their viewpoint, with the towering castle behind them—its windows void of any candlelight signaling to him of the sleepy state of the household—the causeway stretched out toward the mainland. A thin veil of water covered the hand-laid stones, but the nearly full moon above caused the pathway to light up like a silver ribbon in the night.

“I can’t believe I’ve ne’er seen the causeway lit up like this ’fore,” she continued.

August nodded. He’d felt the same when he’d first seen the spectacle. “Stunnin’, ain’t it?”

She didn’t respond, so August looked over at her, and all at once, he was no longer captured by the pathway.

Livvy’s gaze continued to move along the glowing causeway, her eyes filled with wonder, her formed lips parted in awe. Though they still stood within the shadows to avoid prying eyes from the castle above, the cool light from the moon created an ethereal halo around her, and he was once again taken by her.

It wasn’t just her beauty that captured him, though. It was her spirit that radiated from her person each time she spoke, her goodness and vivacity for life making her glow brighter than August had ever seen in a person before.

He shouldn’t be feeling such a way about the daughter of a man who was extorting him—about the daughter who he’d been tasked to deceive and essentially forbidden to fall in love with—but how could a gardener turn away from such a rare flower? How could the rest of the Mount, even Livvy’s own father, not see what a wonderful treasure this woman was?

Or…or had Mr. May been correct in his observation, that Livvy had only ever shown her true nature to August?

Before he could dwell any longer on the subject and come to any sort of conclusion, Livvy turned to him with a grateful smile. “Thank ye for bringin’ me ’ere,” she whispered.

For reasons he couldn’t begin to comprehend, a swell of emotion rose within him. She was grateful, that much he could tell. But there was something else in her tone, in her expression, that he couldn’t put his finger on. It was almost as if she was experiencing life for the first time. The fact that August had been the one to give her the opportunity…it was touching.

“I be that glad,” he responded. “I thought ye might enjoy it. I’ve ne’er been able to share it with anyone else ’til this evenin’.”

Livvy craned her neck to meet his gaze. “Not e’en with Miss Pengelly?”

Her eyes delved into his, and August paused. Typically, when Emma was mentioned, Livvy’s eyes skittered about the ground and the skies. Did that mean…Did Livvy know? Had Mr. May told her?

He set the ridiculous notion aside. There was no chance of the man ever being honorable enough to speak any truth to his daughter.

Still, her unwavering gaze unnerved him. “No,” he responded, staring back at the wispy pathway. “I’ve not ’ad the opportunity. Yet.” He added the word to make his attachment to Emma sound more convincing.

Although, at this point, did he truly wish for Livvy to think that he was in a relationship with the woman? He knew Mr. May did. But then, what would Livvy think of August now, asking her on a scandalous outing while supposedly attached to another? Or had she only agreed because she’d suspected the falseness of their relationship from the beginning? He wouldn’t put it past someone so clever her.

Without a response, Livvy shifted her gaze from August to the pathway, then to the moon above. Her long, wavy curls fluttered across her brow and against her cheeks, though she didn’t bother to brush them aside. Her braid was more visible now, and though he’d found her gorgeous before, there was something about the indecorum of her soft hair being worn down that beckoned him closer.

She appeared like a painting he’d seen once in the Eastwood’s house in Coniston, Birchwick Hall. He’d been invited to share his plans for their gardens with them, so on his way to the master of the house’s study, he’d passed by painting after painting in the never-ending corridors. Most of them were the same—rigid men with frowns, women lounging on settees, children holding still and dogs quirking their heads—all rather…unrealistic.

But one had stood out to him from the others, a portrait of a young woman with her back to the viewer, staring out at a storm-tossed sea. August had always imagined the woman lost in thought, admiring the sights around her that were as beautiful as she was.

That painting had held much intrigue for August over the years.

But now, that intrigue held nothing to the candle that he’d unwittingly lit to shine upon Livvy.

He’d made a mistake in bringing her here this evening. A horrible, terrible, lovely mistake.

“Mother always loved the moon.”