Casek looked poised to snarl something, but Oliver shut the door before he could hear it. And then squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t need Mother there to box his ears. His own conscience did a fine enough job. “Forgive me, Lord.” If only regret was all one needed for repentance. If only one didn’t also have to go and sin no more—something he’d yet to master when it came to Casek Wearne.

He turned, jumping when he saw Mamm-wynn two steps away, peering up at him with those blue eyes of hers that he knew so well. “Going to St. Mary’s tomorrow, then?”

Exhaling, he steadied himself again. “I suppose I’d better.” First, to make sure Mabena had really sent him the message. And second, assuming she had, to see what package had come.

His grandmother nodded. “You might as well stay until Sunday. Mr. Gale would be pleased.”

No doubt. The man had been terribly lonely since his own four children had trickled over to the mainland over the last decade. He always said how he enjoyed it when Oliver occupied one of the empty rooms of the vicarage for a night or three. “Did you want to come with me?” He didn’t like the thought of leaving her alone, even if she wasn’t alone.

She chuckled and stepped closer, her small hand slipping into her pocket. “Sunday will be enough of a trip for me, dearovim. But here. Give this to our young lady.”

He frowned when he caught the glint of lamplight on the metal she’d pulled free of her pocket. “Mabena? What is it?”

“Not Benna.” She laughed again, as if it were a great joke on his part, and opened her palm to reveal a necklace of pearls and gold. “Libby.”

Would there ever again be a day when his stomach didn’t sink, didn’t twist? Though he tried to smile, he also closed his hand over hers. “We’re not giving Lady Elizabeth your jewelry, Mamm-wynn.”

“She needs it.” She turned their hands over and let the gold and pearls trickle into his palm. “Tell her it’s a loan if she’s not comfortable taking the family jewels yet.”

“Mamm-wynn . . .” He needed to tell her Lady Elizabeth wasn’t his wife, wasn’t his sweetheart, wasn’t his anything. But if he tried, would she even remember the conversation come tomorrow? Was there any point in insisting upon the truth when her eyes seemed only to see into a reality of her own making? He sighed. He’d just take the necklace for now and slip it back into her things tomorrow, when she wasn’t in her room.

She smiled up at him, reached to pat his cheek, and turned. “I think it’s time I retire for the night. It’s been a long day.”