She had her doubts that he’d have known it if she were. But she shook her head. “She slipped in a cave and hit her head rather badly. It’s why we were on Tresco an extra night.” If he’d been chatting with Mrs. Pepper already, he’d have learned that she ought to have been back yesterday. Though with a bit of luck, thoughts of Mabena would distract him from thoughts of Oliver.

Wishful thinking, that. “I knew the moment he showed up at Telford Hall that he was trouble.”

Libby rolled her eyes. “You did not. And he isn’t. He’s . . .” Wonderful. Dream worthy. The best man I’ve ever met. “. . . very kind. He answers all my questions about the flora and fauna of the islands with endless patience.”

He grunted. “I imagine he does. But put those thoughts I can see you thinking out of your head straightaway. You’re marrying Sheridan, not some—”

“I am not!”

“Fine.” He waved her words away like he would a fly. “That Willsworth fellow would do then, I suppose. A viscount, isn’t he? Interested in paleontology, which ought to suit you. He would do.”

Heat seared her cheeks. And, even more humiliating, tears flooded her eyes before she could even feel them coming and blink them away. “Are you that eager to be rid of me, Bram?”

“Now, Libby, don’t . . . come now. Here.” He pulled out one of his ever-present handkerchiefs and thrust it at her. “You know well it isn’t that at all. It’s not about getting rid of you. It’s about making certain you’re well cared for.”

But she was well cared for—at Telford Hall, with him and Mama. Why wasn’t that enough? And why, if he was so eager to shove her off on someone else, couldn’t he let her choose someone who would actually like her? Maybe even love her? Was that too much to ask?

A question she didn’t intend to voice. Because, quite frankly, she was a bit terrified of the answer.

22

Oliver breathed in the beloved scent of salt water and breathed out a prayer. Partly for Libby, who he’d sincerely hated to leave when she was in such distress. A little bit for himself and the conversation he didn’t know if he should postpone or find a way to have with Casek Wearne. And mostly for Mamm-wynn, who’d been weighing endlessly on his heart since the moment he stepped out of the house.

And for Beth. Had she found his letter? Would she find it? Would she learn some other way that their grandmother was ill? Tell her, Lord, please. Somehow. Tell her to come home.