She also had no idea how to respond to such a compliment. She could only smile her thanks and try to nudge Darling away from the beaded hem of her dress that had been tempting him since she put it on. And then snicker a bit when Mabena came stomping out with obvious frustration, muttering, “I thought for certain I’d packed them. I must have put them down again when I considered adding the silver set.”

Oliver turned to greet the newcomer with a grin. “Problem, Mabena?”

“No, I’m muttering for my health.”

Libby tamped down a grin of her own. The salt air seemed to have made Mabena more sarcastic. Perhaps she shouldn’t have found it so entertaining.

“Anything I can help you with?” Oliver asked.

Mabena gave him a withering look. “Only if you happen to have a pearl necklace in your pocket.”

His face went blank for a moment, then a strange look flitted over it. “Actually . . .” He reached for his satchel, opened it, and fished around in the interior pouch.

Coming up with, of all things, a pearl-and-gold necklace.

Mabena just stared at it. “And you’re carrying your grandmother’s necklace around with you because . . . ?”

“She forced it on me before I left. Said—well, frankly, she said, ‘Libby needs it.’”

“How could she have known that?” The oddity made it far more intriguing than it would have been otherwise. Libby stepped closer to get a better look.

It was prettier than hers, honestly. Rather than a simple string of pearls, this one was a double strand, choker length. In the middle, there was a cameo—only, instead of the expected woman’s profile, an eight-petaled flower had been carved. Perhaps a Dryas octopetala.

But she couldn’t accept. All Mama’s lessons in etiquette had at least taught her that much. “It’s lovely—and lovelier still of Mamm-wynn. But I can’t—”

“Of course you can. It will make her happy to know you did so.” Rather than hand it to Mabena, Oliver turned to her himself, moving behind her and draping the necklace into place in one swift move. “For Mamm-wynn, my lady.”

She touched a finger to the cameo while he fastened it in place, afraid to move any more than that lest . . . lest . . . well, lest she do something wrong somehow. “All right. Anything for Mamm-wynn.” Mama never even needed to know.

His fingers were warm as they grazed her skin, probably making her neck and cheeks flush again. His hand moved from her neck to her satin-encased elbow as he stepped around her again. “Would you like me to walk you to the Wights’ cottage?”