Libby’s grin was pure bliss. “Don’t feel obligated—I can make my own sandwich, you know. If you want to go over to Tresco today to see your family, you’re welcome to do so. You know I’ll be perfectly content here.”

She’d meant to take a few days first, get used to the idea of being in the Scillies again before taking that final step home. Maybe even give the gossip time to reach Mam and Tas. “Mabena’s back! Though she doesn’t look much the wild soul we knew. Serving some tourist as maid, of all things.”

Not that her parents didn’t know what she’d been doing. They’d sent Ollie after her the once, to try to talk her home, to show her that she needn’t subject herself to such a life. As if Mabena gave a fig about what he might say, just because he had an official title to make his ever-offered counsel more legitimate. He was still just Ollie.

Did he realize Beth had vanished? She couldn’t think so, or he’d have been here. He’d have collected her belongings and taken them back to Tresco. Every local in the Scillies would have been out scouring the beaches and caves for her.

She folded the shawl. Maybe she would boat over to Tresco today. Just to hear what any gossip was concerning Beth. She’d say nothing—not until she knew more. If Beth just wanted some independence and to escape from the prying eyes of the people who had known her all her life, Mabena wouldn’t be the one to ruin it for her.

But if there was cause to worry, she’d know it before the day was out.

She nodded to Libby. “I may, at that. Thank you, my lady.”

Libby hugged her pile of books to her chest. “Totally selfless of me.”

She laughed—she couldn’t help it. Libby was definitely not like any other nobleman’s daughter she’d ever run across. Which was possibly the only reason she’d survived two years as a maid. “Oh yes, I’m certain of that. Get on with you, then. And take your key, as I’ll lock up behind myself when I go.”

“Already have it.” Patting her pocket in proof, Libby pivoted away. “Have fun!”

“You too.” Mabena shook her head in amusement as Libby darted away, her hair in a thick braid of honey blond better suited for a girl of sixteen than a young lady of twenty, and her clothes simple enough that she’d blend in more with the locals than the tourists.

And she was, without question, about to have a brighter day than Mabena would.