Quick motion in his periphery caught his attention, making his shoulders go tight again. Though only for a moment. A young lady dressed much as Mabena had been when she came home was jostling her way through the crowd, scanning faces rather frantically until she spotted their group and then visibly relaxing. Oliver nudged Mabena. “I think we’re leaving without Lady Emily’s lady’s maid. Would you?”

Mabena chuckled. “Since I’m more suited to the company of maids than ladies, you mean?”

He gave her a helpful shove in the shoulder. “You’re the one who decided to prove him right. And now that you’ve that experience, you ought to at least know how to talk to her without startling her.”

She shoved him right back. “I think you just want a moment alone with Libby.”

“You call this alone?” But it was as alone as they were likely to be in their current crowd—Beth and Lady Emily, heads together and arms linked, were strolling along the road, the two lords a few steps behind. Neither, for once, paying any attention to him and Libby. He offered his arm with a grin. “My lady?”

“Good sir.” She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they fell in a goodly distance behind her brother and not-fiancé. Though her gaze seemed focused more on Beth and Lady Emily. “I think it’s time I give up.”

He quirked a brow at her—not sure what she meant exactly, but hearing no defeat in her tone.

She nodded at the girls. “I’m not like them. And I don’t enjoy trying to be.”

He covered her hand with his. “You don’t need to be. You’re you, which is absolutely perfect.”

Her sigh sounded somehow both happy and resigned. “You’re the only one I’ve ever met who thought so.”

Hence why she needed to stay here, with him. He might have said as much had her brother not remembered to send him a scowl over his shoulder just then, and hang back enough that he probably would have heard.

But it was the truth. Why should she spend the rest of her life struggling to fit into a world that couldn’t appreciate her? London balls, country house parties, drawing room visits—those didn’t make her sparkle, make her come alive. She needed this. God’s world in all its splendor surrounding her and stirring her curiosity. She needed to chart the tides and the paths of the migratory birds and count the flower species with Mr. Menna each year. She needed to serve his neighbors tea on cool Wednesday mornings and listen to Tas-gwyn’s ridiculous stories. That would make her eyes shine, day in and day out.

But how to make her brother see that?