This wasn’t really her room, wasn’t really her life. But being here had made the world of London and Telford Hall seem so far away, so unattractive.

She glanced out the door, catching a glimpse of her brother. He hadn’t said anything else about leaving—yet. Not while his best friend was set on finding a pirate treasure, not while Mamm-wynn was still largely unresponsive. But he would soon. He’d grant her a week, if she was lucky. It wasn’t enough though. If a month had been enough time to make her think this was where she truly belonged, one more week wasn’t enough to satisfy that yearning to curl into her place here. The rest of the summer wouldn’t be either. She wanted to see autumn paint its colors over the heather and gorse. She wanted to note the birds that left, the others to come. She wanted to watch for seals and whales and who knew what else as winter winds danced around the islands. She wanted to see fresh life spring up again months before it did on the mainland, covering the fields in flowers that the locals would harvest and send inland.

“Are you coming?” Mabena’s hand landed on her shoulder, her voice intruding softly.

Libby forced a smile but barely glanced away from the window she’d been staring out. “In a minute. Go on. I just need to memorize the view a bit more.” Who knew when next she’d see it? She meant to stay on Tresco until Mamm-wynn was well. After which Bram would try to make her go home. Try to make her marry Sheridan, who still hadn’t had the sense to object. And Mama would push for the same.

But what could she really do to argue? She had no means of her own with which to stay here—her inheritance was all tied to her dowry or held in trust by her brother. She was at the mercy of her family. Which had never been so bad before, but now . . .

She could hear her companions in the other room, their voices an odd collection she’d never expected to hear grouped together. Bram and Sheridan verbally jostled each other—probably as they physically jostled each other for the best view of the map.

“Easy, gentlemen.” Beth sounded half-amused and half-impatient with them. “We can’t even know for certain if it is a treasure map.”

“But it has an X!” Sheridan’s voice, other than being too deep, sounded exactly like a lad’s on Christmas morning.

“There are no landmarks though, no outlines to give us a hint as to which island it is.” Oliver, his tone contemplative. “How would we know where to begin or what it denotes? It could be leading anywhere. There isn’t even a compass rose to tell us how to orient it.”