Page 120 of To Know Miss May

He’d done this a number of times in the two days since he’d been removed from his position, hoping somehow the rain would ease his suffering, if only to distract him from his ever-present thoughts of Livvy.

As if those thoughts had some power of their own, a flash of blue cloth dodged past the window he stood behind, and he started. Livvy’s profile was just visible beyond the hood of her cloak as she ran through the rain. He leaned forward, watching as she entered her home next door to his, and just like that, she once more slipped out of his sight.

For those few blissful seconds, he’d forgotten the pain he’d caused her, and he’d imagined that they were still where they’d been before, two hopeless individuals in love.

But all of it was a dream. Just like his desire to take back his foolish actions.

“August?” Mother spoke softly from behind, having seated herself near the fire with Portia and Ophelia.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Won’t ye ’ave some tea?”

He hesitated. “No, thank ye.”

Silence followed his words, as they’d done each time in the last few days. His family was not used to such sullen behavior coming from him, but August couldn’t help it—nor could he speak of it. Even when he’d told them he’d lost his job at the gardens, he’d been unable to tell them the truth, so ashamed he was of his behavior.

“Mr. May no longer saw me fit to work there,” he’d stated simply. Which, more or less, was the truth.

“’Ow can that be so? Surely somethin’ can be done,” Mother had said often in the last two days.

August never answered her. He still had not. For the only response that came to his mind was that he would have to leave the Mount. Never mind his dreams. Never mind his passions. None of it mattered now, which was why he stood there, staring at the rain on the windowpane, hoping to catch another glimpse of Livvy, for it was the only thing that made him feel something.

“’Ave ye spoken with ’er since the assembly on the mainland?” Mother asked, as if able to read his very thoughts.

“Who?” he returned, deciding to play ignorant.

“The woman ye’ve been pinin’ after for days. That be who.”

He kept his back to his mother and sisters, unwilling to see their expressions for fear of what those expressions might do to him—encourage him to speak what was on his mind. Make him share his feelings with them. Force him to face his own stupidity.

He’d much rather live in this constant state of numbness. Or so he liked to tell himself.

“I ain’t pinin’ after anyone,” he responded.

“That be a lie,” Ophelia muttered under her breath.

“Miss May,” Portia stated louder, as if anxious to get him talking. “’Ave ye spoken with Miss May since the assembly?”

Were they only interested in the gossip it would serve them? Or were they genuinely concerned?

“Yes, I’ve spoken with ’er once or twice,” he stated.

“But not in recent days?” Mother clarified.

“No.”

“And why be that?”

He shrugged, unable to find a response.

“Well, if ye wish to e’er speak with ’er again, ye’d best make it quick,” Ophelia said.

“Ye’ll miss out otherwise,” Portia added.

“Girls,” Mother whispered sharply.

August paused, an unsettling feeling coming over him. Slowly, he turned to face his family. “What do ye mean?”