Walls that were covered in a lichen she’d never seen elsewhere in England. Really, everything here was simply remarkable. Different lichen, different bracken, different heather—a whole new world! She could spend a lifetime cataloguing and still never list it all.

“How are we even supposed to know what he was looking for, Perry?” The young voice came from behind the lichen-covered stones, and it sounded none too happy.

An exasperated huff replied, “I don’t know, all right? But he was here the day before he died.”

“So? I bet he also visited the loo. Do we need to investigate that?”

“Yeah, Nick.” Perry’s voice sounded exasperated in the extreme. “That was going to be my next suggestion.”

“About as useful,” said a third voice that sounded much like Nick’s, only a trifle higher.

Mabena and Oliver were creeping silently around the corner, perhaps aimed for a door or something. Libby had no idea what might be on the adjacent wall. She stepped a little closer to the stones, though, fishing into her bag with one hand. A scraping of the lichen would only take a second, and her friends certainly didn’t need her to confront lads she’d never even met. She would just—

A scream spilled from her lips when her next step met air instead of ground. Her foot had found a hole that went deep enough that she sank up to her knee, her ankle twisting as it jammed into the uneven bottom. Worst of all, her satchel took the full brunt of her weight as she caught herself on the ground, and something cracked within it. Slides? Her magnifying glass?

“My lady!” Oliver dropped to his knees at her side a moment later, his face contorted with concern and his hands gripping her elbows to steady her. “Are you all right?”

“More surprised than anything.” The initial throb in her ankle was already dulling. Or else it was just fully eclipsed by the far pleasanter sensation of his hands on her arms, his face so close to hers. Bother, but she didn’t know what to do with these feelings he inspired in her. Or why in the world she was debating it when knee-deep in a hole. She ought to have been embarrassed, flustered by the situation more than that gleam in his eyes.

“Let me help you up.” He did so with ease, levering her back to the foot still on solid ground. But he didn’t let go. Perhaps because he was conscious of how carefully she put her abused foot down. Perhaps—dare she hope it?—because he enjoyed the nearness too.

Given the way his gaze brushed over her face and lingered a moment on her mouth, she could convince herself of that.

“Are you certain you’re all right?” he whispered.