Yes! She nearly shouted it. Anything to keep his hand on her elbow a little longer, to be at his side a bit more, to . . . “No, thank you. Though I thank you.” She was such a dunce. A dunce who needed to clear her head of this lovely, silly haze he filled it with before she stepped foot in the Wights’ cottage and was introduced to the viscount and his cousin. She certainly didn’t want to arrive all moon-eyed and have them think it was over them.

Though given the shadow that flashed in his eyes, he probably thought her quick refusal was because she didn’t want to be seen with him in said company.

She ought to say something to make it clear that wasn’t at all the case. But she had no idea how to say as much without making more a ninny of herself than she already had.

“Here.” Mabena broke the tension by coming toward her with Mamm-wynn’s shawl in hand and placing it around her. “A perfect complement.”

The shawl was a heather purple, light and misty, the dress a deeper, royal hue. Even Libby’s eye, untrained in fashion, found the contrast pleasing. She smiled. “Are you certain I can’t just stay at home and pretend I forgot it was Saturday?”

“Go.” Mabena gave her a helpful push toward the door. “That way you can write to your mother tomorrow telling her you did so, and she’ll be pleased enough that perhaps she’ll not insist on other engagements.”

That was an optimistic thought. “All right. Solve a few mysteries while I’m out.”

She stole one last glance at Oliver—for fortification, that was all—and then let herself out into the warm, fragrant evening. It felt odd to be walking to a dinner party in this getup, and no doubt it would be a terrible idea to take her usual path through the sand, on the beach. So, she stuck to the main road, telling herself her lazy pace was for the sake of her shoes and not because she didn’t really care when she arrived.

Halfway there, a sweet, exotic scent caught her nose, bringing her to a halt. Jasmine? They had a potted variety in the arboretum at home, but with the Scillies’ subtropical climate, it was possible—yes! She spotted the distinctive white flowers growing along the backside of a garden fence, their long-throated trumpets releasing their perfume over the entire area.

Libby scurried over to them, breathing deeply as she went. She adored the Cestrum nocturnum. It was one of the strongest-scented plants to be found, and she’d always admired it for withholding its fragrance during the day and releasing it only at night. It seemed so secretive, so reserved. Only for those who truly loved it, not just for the casual, daytime passerby.