Page 79 of To Know Miss May

“I’d say so.”

He sobered once again. “Per’aps I ought to ’ave said that ye ought not trust those who can’t be trusted…but that ye can trust those who…who simply be doin’ the best they can with what they’ve been givin’.”

Livvy narrowed her eyes. He was trying to tell her something. Why else would he look at her with such a heavy gaze and focused eyes? But then, what could he not say that he wished to?

“Can I tell ye how else ye be like sea pinks?” he asked.

She nodded, no longer able to speak.

“Sometimes, people can be careless toward the delicate flowers, troddin’ on ’em or causin’ ’em to be dirty.” He eyed her temple. “And just like sea pinks, ye might collect dirt on your petals caused by careless gardeners who decide to become embroiled in a mud fight ’e knows ’e’ll ne’er win.”

She paused. Was he saying…Did she have dirt on her face? She swiped at her temple in an effort to clean herself. Why had he not told her sooner? Never mind that she hadn’t said a word about the dirt his jawline still sported. She didn’t think he was admiring the muck on her face as she’d been admiring on his.

August reached into his jacket pocket and produced a handkerchief, pausing as he stretched it toward her. “May I?” he asked with a half-smile, motioning to her temple.

Had she not cleared all the dirt from her face? If she took his handkerchief, she was certain she’d be able to wipe it all away. But then, who was she to deny the man an act of service?

A blush stretched across her cheeks as she nodded, and her skittering heart made it nearly impossible to draw a solid breath.

Nothing else in the world existed in that moment beyond August as he gently wiped the cloth down her temple. Livvy wasn’t even certain she existed.

He focused on her temple, then moved to her eyes. The handkerchief stopped, and the distinct warmth from his fingertip brushed against her cheekbone.

Chills erupted up and down her skin, and her lips parted of their own volition, as if she needed more air to circulate through her whirring body.

Slowly, his thumb continued to gently caress her skin, creating an ethereal feeling around the both of them.

Livvy had no idea if she truly did have mud on her face or not. Nor at this moment did she care. August could lie to her all he wanted, so long as he continued to touch her in this way the rest of their days.

How long had she been waiting for a moment like this to occur—dreaming of a moment like this. But never in a thousand years did she imagine it would happen. Never in a million hopes did she believe it actually would occur.

Yet, as August leaned toward her, his own masculine lips separating as he drew closer, she knew this was happening.

And it would be glorious and wonderous. Everything she’d ever wanted it to be and more.

She couldn’t wait.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“What we place most hopes upon, generally proves most fatal.”

The vicar of Wakefield, Oliver Goldsmith

“Brother?”

The young woman’s voice snapped Livvy from the trance August had placed her in. She pulled away from his touch just as swiftly as he dropped his hand, and the two of them shifted toward the last women on the Mount Livvy had the fortitude to face.

Ophelia and Portia Moon.

The girls’ condemning looks fell upon their brother first, then shifted to Livvy, who veritably squirmed like a worm under their gazes. If Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Pride & Prejudice delivered judgmental looks comparable to what these girls delivered, Livvy had no notion as to how Elizabeth Bennet had borne it.

She tried to set aside any unfounded guilt—after all, August was an unattached individual—but truth be told, she felt horrible. What would these girls think of her, allowing August to touch her when they were under the impression that he was nearly engaged to Miss Pengelly?

And even worse was the fear of what rumors the girls could spread that would injure all parties involved, directly and indirectly.

How Livvy longed to have faith that Ophelia and Portia would keep what they’d seen to themselves. They were August’s sisters, after all. But such faith was futile.

Her head spun as she thought of the repercussions of her thoughtless actions. She never should have lingered.