Page 53 of To Know Miss May

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.”

Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

“Thank ye for bringin’ these, Liv,” Father said, his eyes peering down at the basket of cherry tarts Cook had made that morning.

Livvy nodded, grateful Father appreciated her act.

When she’d first awakened to the smell of the tarts that morning, her stomach had rumbled, and moisture had flooded her mouth in anticipation.

She’d headed straightway to the kitchen, ready to sneak a few of the tarts for her reading in Marazion that day, but Cook had stopped her, heaving over a basket already overflowing with the dessert.

“Your Father do need these delivered to ’im,” Cook had stated. “Sarah be out sick today with an ’eadcold, so the task do fall on ye, I be afeared.”

Livvy had made to protest. She couldn’t go to the gardens, for she would inevitably see the very man she had promised herself to avoid—August Moon.

But there was nothing else to be done. Father liked to provide tarts for the other gardeners once a month, and he’d be very cross, indeed, if they were late in delivery. So she’d relented, failing to untangle her jumble of nerves as she made her way to the castle gardens.

Even now, as she stood before father in the midst of the sweet-smelling flowers and thick shrubbery, her stomach was clenched, for despite her best efforts, her gaze continually glided past Father’s shoulders to where August and Mr. Cuff stood speaking to one another, half-hidden behind a large, oak tree, yellow and white daffodils surrounding the trunk.

Truthfully, she shouldn’t even be watching them—or rather, watching August. She’d seen him from the window only that morning with Miss Pengelly as she’d discreetly delivered another love letter into his hands. Though it pained Livvy’s heart to see such actions, it had been yet another reminder. A reminder that she was nothing to August. A reminder that she needed to eradicate her feelings for him altogether to maintain a shred of self-respect.

“I be glad to see ye out,” Father said, drawing her attention to him again. He took a bite of one of the tarts, a piece of the pastry falling from his lips to the ground. “Where ye be ’eaded after this?”

“I thought about seein’ the Otterhams,” she replied.

“Give ’em me best.”

“’Course.”

Her eyes once more slid over Father’s shoulder to the men still standing by the tree. They clearly wished their conversation to be kept private, their eyes continually darting about, ensuring no others pried. The only reason Livvy was not discovered was due to the fact that she stood mostly behind Father’s figure.

Still, if they wished for privacy, she should allow them that much.

And yet, before she could look away, her attention was stolen by them shaking hands—more specifically, to the small letter August had covertly delivered to Mr. Cuff during their handshake. Mr. Cuff ducked to hide fully behind the tree then, and August walked away in the opposite direction without a sliver of culpability on his face.

Livvy narrowed her eyes. What were they speaking of that required no other ears to hear them? And why had they felt the need to deliver a letter between them secretly?

At the thought of the letter, her mind flitted back to Miss Pengelly, and an inkling took seed in Livvy’s heart. Could it be…was it possible that the letters exchanged were between Mr. Cuff and Miss Pengelly—and not August?

But how could that be? The Pengellys and the Cuffs had been at war with each other for years, long before Livvy could remember. Was it possible that the two of them had somehow formed an attachment?

She racked her brain, attempting to recall any moment she’d seen the two of them together, but Father’s words prevented her.

“Well, I’ve ’ad me fill,” he said, brushing the remaining tart crumbs from his chin. “I’ll take ’em round to the others, but I need to make sure…” He trailed off, glancing over his shoulder directly at August. “Moon!”

Livvy froze as he called to the very man she was trying to avoid.

August turned, his face stoic as he saw Father, then his gaze shifted to Livvy’s as he noted her for the first time that morning. Instead of the smile that naturally spread across his face each time he’d look at her, he visibly swallowed, and his eyes darted back to Father’s as he made his way toward them.

“Sir,” August greeted. Then he turned to Livvy. A small smile reached his lips, though still nothing like before. “Miss May, pleasure to see ye.”

Livvy had no notion as to why he appeared so nervous. Unless, of course, he felt the same way around Father as Livvy did—as if she were constantly being watched for any sign of mistakes.

“I needed to speak with ye ’bout the edgin’ round the graveyard,” Father said to August. “’Ave ye seen Cuff?”

August wrung his hands together. “I-I believe ’e be in the lower tier.”