Page 77 of To Know Miss May

“Thank ye.” He paused, clearly for dramatic effect. “Now for me next question. Do ye think me a fine singer?”

He flashed a charming grin, raising one eyebrow in a theatrical manner that caused her to laugh.

She was sorely tempted to tease him again, claim that he was a terrible singer, that she’d never heard worst, but she simply didn’t have the heart.

With a deep sigh, she responded. “No, August. I don’t think ye be a fine singer. I think ye be a superb singer.”

“Do ye, now?” he asked, clearly flattered. “Very well. Now I know your favorite flower.”

He didn’t. Did he? “Well, what be it, then?”

“Sea pinks.”

Shock overcame her, her mouth dropping open. “’Ow the devil did ’e guess that?”

He shrugged. “I told ye that ye’d be impressed.”

“But, no…This doesn’t make any sense. Those questions ’ad nothin’ to do with flowers. ’Ow did ye know?”

“I know me flowers.”

As if he could know them that well. “Did me answers truly give me away? Or did ye already know some’ow?”

He stared down at her with another shrug, then a smile broke out across his lips. “No.” He motioned down to the reticule hanging from her hands. “I saw the sea pinks embroidered on your reticule and simply guessed.”

Raising her hands and the reticule in turn, she peered at the mediocre embroidery of the sea pinks she’d stitched on the fabric only a few years before. Then as the shock faded away, laughter bubbled up from her chest.

“Ye little sneak,” she said, still laughing. “So all those questions be for naught?”

He fairly beamed. “Be it a crime to wish to know more ’bout one’s friend by askin’ simple questions?”

She scoffed, though it shifted once again to another laugh.

“’Sides,” he continued, “I just taught ye a valuable lesson—do not believe everythin’ everyone says.”

She shook her head, still reveling in his teasing. “Ye be nothin’ but a connivin’ cheat.”

“A cheat? I ne’er. I simply used deductive reasonin’.”

“That be just what a cheat would say,” she returned.

“But surely ye can appreciate the lesson.”

“Hardly.” How she was enjoying this. “In fact…” She paused, looking around her before settling on a mound of dirt—wet, though not sopping enough to be considered mud. “I think I’ll teach ye a lesson in return.”

Without another thought, she reached down, retrieved a handful of the dirt, and launched it at August’s chest. He let out a shout of protest, turning in time for the dirt to hit him squarely in his back instead.

Afterward, he faced her with surprised delight. “What do ye think ye be doin’?” he asked, then he reached down for a crumbly clod of dirt and tossed it at her next.

As it hit her shoulder, she gasped. “Ye can’t throw dirt at a woman.”

“I believe I just did.”

She looked back down to the dirt, moving to pick up more before August stepped forward with his hands in the air. “Wait just a moment. I relent. I relent!”

She stopped, then faced him with a grin. “Already?”

“I know ye well enough to know I’d lose any fight I’d choose to pick with ye.”