Page 21 of To Know Miss May

August still needed to speak with his parents about his sisters’ behavior, but for right now, he was simply going to enjoy the opportunity he had to talk to Miss May on his own.

“I suppose we ought to be gettin’ back to the others,” Miss May said, obviously misunderstanding August’s focus across the room.

But he wasn’t quite finished with their conversation. She was so refreshingly different, this Miss May. He only ever remembered her as being a quiet sort of girl who kept to herself. But now, with her passion for reading and a wit that rivaled Emma’s, August couldn’t seem to pry himself away from her. At least not yet.

“Ah, but ye’ve only chosen one book to take with ye,” he said, raising The Mysteries of Udolpho in his hand.

She lifted The Tempest in her own. “And this one.”

He extended his hand for the book, and she allowed him to take it. “That be two,” he said. “Mother said to take a few, so ye need at least one more.” Was his attempt to keep her there for longer too obvious?

The shimmer in her blue eyes made him think she had caught onto his plan, but also that she didn’t seem to mind it.

“Very well,” she relented. “I’ll continue lookin’.”

She had such a lovely voice. It was a touch lower than most women but still thoroughly feminine.

August shifted to look at the bookshelf again, though he kept his eyes on her from the side, noting the smooth angle of her jaw and the curve of her neck as she peered to the top of the bookshelves.

She pulled down another book, flipping through a few pages before sliding it back between the other books and finding another.

She seemed to be taking this task very seriously, just like her list-making.

Honestly, he’d never heard anything more adorable in his life. And there were worse things for a woman to obsess over than books. Buttons, for instance, like his sisters.

He eyed the books she’d chosen and quirked his head. “’Ow long will it take ye to read these?”

She kept her eyes on the bookshelf. “Depends on if I enjoy ’em or not. I’ve not read The Tempest in a while, either, so I’d say…a week?”

“A week?” he said, surprised.

“Be that too long?” Worry clouded her eyes.

How could she be so utterly adorable?

“Not at all,” he replied. “It just means I get to see ye sooner when ye return ’em.”

Miss May’s wide eyes turned on him. She’d obviously taken his words exactly as he’d meant them. Was he being too forward? Was it terrible that he didn’t care if he was?

“Unless ye don’t wish to return ’em yourself,” he said, leaving his comment open-ended.

To his delight, she shook her head with a smile. “No, I’d like to.”

August’s heart fluttered like loose petals of a blossoming apple tree in the spring. It had been a long time since he’d felt so giddy, so boyish. But there was something about this woman that was so unexpected, so refreshing, he couldn’t help his reaction to her.

Why had no one warned him that he would fall for her charm, instead of warning him about her lack of societal norms?

“Be somethin’ wrong?” she asked next, having obviously seen his stares in her direction.

“Forgive me for sayin’ so,” he said gingerly, “but ye be different than what I was told to expect of ye.”

To his dismay, the light dimmed in her eyes. “People do love to talk,” she said softly, gazing up at the books, “’specially when it be ’bout anyone but themselves.”

August hesitated. So she knew what they said of her. What he couldn’t understand was why it was said of her. Dare he ask?

He already knew that he would. If there was anything he’d learned from his years off the Mount, it was that life was far too short to not seek what he wanted. And he wanted to know Miss May, so know Miss May, he would.

But what about Emma?