address you. I’m Bronwyn Dale.”
As his brows furrow, that grin fades into utter confusion.
“My accent,” I say with a chuckle. “Yes, I’m American. I’m a friend of William’s, though I suppose that’s obvious, given the hour.”
He’s still staring. He blinks. And then he laughs, a musical alto as he shakes his head, his face glowing with open delight.
“You are the girl,” he says.
I fix a smile. “I’m certain plenty of girls have passed through William’s life, but alas, I would not be one he’s spoken of.”
His eyes only gleam brighter. “True. He’s never uttered a word about you, which has always been the problem.”
“I . . . Uh, let me go wake William for you.”
August swings into my path. “You’re the girl who broke his heart. The girl who wasn’t there.”
When my mouth opens, he cuts me short with, “I recognize you. It took a moment, but once you spoke, that accent was unmistakable. I saw you that summer. How old were we? Sixteen? No, fifteen. That was the year I lost my”—he clears his throat—“my watch while walking in the moors.”
I stifle a snort.
He only continues, “We were fifteen, and my family had come up from London. I was enjoying the attentions of a lovely local lass. This young lady had a very fetching sister, yet I could not convince William to meet her. In fact, I could barely convince him to meet me. He seemed utterly preoccupied with his bloody horses. I became concerned for his welfare.”
He lowers his voice, conspiratorially. “Dreadfully jealous, to be honest, but concerned flatters me better. I snuck around and spotted him with a girl, which seemed to explain the problem. Except this girl was . . .” He frowns. “At first, I half believed her a fae from his beloved moors. Such an odd manner of dress, light and airy gowns that barely reached her knees, more fancy undergarments than dresses. When I got close, I realized she had a strange way of speaking, not only her accent but her words, her patterns of speech. She spoke a lot like you.”
“A fellow American? I must tease William about that. His first love was an American girl.”
August chuckles. “I’m sure that excuse works far better on those who did not spend two years in the Americas. Your accent is not from there. Back to my story, though.”
“It is a lovely one.”
“Isn’t it? Terribly romantic with a tragic ending that appears to have taken a distinctly optimistic turn. I mentioned the girl to William, pretending that a villager spotted them together. He outright denied it. Blamed it on wild imaginations. Yet he still had very little time for me, very little indeed, and when he did, he was distracted. Distracted and happier than I’ve ever seen him. After that, though, he changed.”
When I flinch, August’s good humor softens. “William was fine. He was never the jolliest of boys, and other things happened later to—” He clears his throat again. “The point is that you are the girl, and if I were to put forth a long-held theory of mine, I believe you are from . . .” He leans in, eyes twinkling. “The future.”
I laugh. “That is quite a story. Sadly, though, it is untrue.”
“You’re not that girl? Or not from the future?”
“Neither.”
He eases back against the wall, all studied nonchalance. “You do realize what you’re wearing, don’t you?”
I look down. “William’s shirt, which is not what I would typically wear to greet guests, but you were quite unannounced.”
“So, you are from our world, and yet have been standing here dressed like that, nary a thought of the potential impropriety?”
I look down at my attire and inwardly wince. While I’m fully covered, being spotted in a shirt that falls mid-thigh would have sent a proper Victorian lady shrieking for cover.
I hide my reaction and straighten, chin up. “Perhaps I do not care about the impropriety. Perhaps my . . . past or even my current circumstances are such that I’m quite accustomed to greeting men dressed in scandalous attire.”
“I couldn’t even drag William into brothels when we were young. He’s certainly not hiring companionship now.”
“I didn’t say it was a career.”
“So, you are naming yourself a loose woman?”
“I would take no insult at the term.”
He barks a laugh. “I see that. Quick-witted and caring not a whit for your reputation. I can see why you captured his heart.”
“Have I? That would be lovely. I only hope there’s some corner of it left after this