Casek rolled his eyes. “Anything,” he said in a high-pitched voice meant to be an imitation of the shopkeeper’s, “for the Reverend Mr. Tremayne.”

Good. One less problem that would be thrust in Libby’s lap.

Telford caught up with them half a minute later, his scowl as dark as the thunderheads hunched on the horizon. “I do hope you chaps are decent hands at sailing. I don’t fancy getting caught in that storm.”

Did he seriously just question the sailing abilities of islanders? It was like asking a London cabby if he could find Big Ben. Oliver glanced at Casek, who glanced at him too. They both, under their breath, muttered, “Incomers.” And Casek was probably wondering, just as Oliver was, how well the Earl of Telford could swim.

Mamm-wynn’s eyelids had fluttered open a few times last night. And her fingers, so frail in his, had squeezed his hand now and then. Oliver listed those praises as he knelt in the damp earth of his garden, pulling out weeds and praying for the strength he’d need to get through today. The gladioli were doing well—another praise. And he’d managed to make it twelve hours without saying anything rude to Lord Telford, which was surely a testament to the Lord’s Spirit in him, because he’d thought about twenty different rejoinders last night as Libby’s brother insulted everything he saw with those clever little jabs the nobility were so good at.

“Oh, I see electricity hasn’t been run to the islands yet. I suppose it’s a relief for someone in your position not to worry with all the upgrades.”

“A lovely meal, considering the limited selection available on the islands.”

“Your home is very pleasant, Mr. Tremayne. Cozy. I suppose with such a view, it’s worth tripping over one’s family every time one turns around.”

Oliver tossed another weed onto the stack of them and blinked tired eyes. He was glad he’d convinced Mr. Menna to take his seat in the races this morning—he’d have been a liability. Even so, it felt wrong to be in his garden this time of day on a Wednesday instead of skimming across the water with his best chums. But he’d slept fitfully in the chair by Mamm-wynn’s side most of the night, and by the time he rose, the race was likely all but over. So he’d come out here to wake himself up as pleasantly as possible.