She’d forgotten how different her friend looked—the change had been so incremental. And so complete for weeks now. But her new appearance would be a shock to Bram, who’d never seen her in anything but her high-necked, prim-and-proper dresses, her hair neat and severe. Today, the injury had inspired her to keep her hair altogether down, and the wind on the trip had blown it into an absolute fury of curls. She really didn’t bear much of a resemblance to the Moon who’d served at Telford Hall, so Libby could hardly blame him for the momentary confusion.

Mabena sighed. “Good day, my lord. Lord Sheridan.” Her headache was audible in her voice. “I think I’d better put the kettle on.”

Never one to let confusion reign for long, Bram renewed his glare. “Don’t bother. We won’t be here long enough to need it.”

Libby wasn’t optimistic enough to think he meant he would leave and leave her there.

Mabena ignored him, giving the table a wide berth on her way to the stove. “None for you, then. Very well. Lord Sheridan? Tea?”

“Yes, I—”

“Sher!”

Sheridan sighed but deflected her brother’s scowl with a wave of the hand. “That cup at the pub was terrible. Have a little—well, a little pity, Telford. A man can’t be expected to go a whole day without a decent cup.”

Even hearing him speak made Libby’s shoulders go tight.

Bram relented. Though his relenting looked suspiciously like anger. “I cannot believe Mother allowed this. No, that she enabled it. Sending her daughter off alone with no one but a lady’s maid to chaperone her. And you!” He surged to his feet, no doubt so that he could tower over Libby. Yet his voice was surprisingly quiet. “This isn’t like you, Lib. Why would you do such a thing?”

“What choice did you leave me?” She dropped her own volume to a whisper, though there was no hope the others wouldn’t hear it in the confined space. “You weren’t listening to a word I said! Had I stayed, you’d have bullied me into an engagement with him.” She gestured with her non-Darling-supporting hand toward Sheridan, then felt her cheeks go hot. “No offense intended, my lord.”

His green eyes sparked, though it looked strangely more like amusement than anything. “No, no. Of course not. I took it for a compliment.”

Mabena, helpful creature that she was, snorted a laugh from the stove.

Bram growled. “You weren’t exactly listening yourself. But I’ve never known you to be so—so selfish and underhanded.”

The words bit, as he’d no doubt meant them to. She stumbled back a step. “I am not. Self-preservation isn’t the same as selfishness.” Was it? It couldn’t be. “And there was nothing underhanded about it. Mama knew exactly—”