“On their way to the library in the hopes of settling an argument with the help of a book.” Not that Telford so much as met his gaze when he answered. He kept his eyes trained on his sister, and it was no wonder she’d always found the weight of it intimidating. “Go on. She’s your reason for wanting to stay, isn’t she? And you need to collect your cat from her bedside, regardless.”

Her shoulders rolled back, making Oliver think for a moment that she meant to argue. But then she sighed. “I do want to spend some time with her this evening—and Mabena took far too long on my hair to allow me to slip in before supper.”

“Go on, then.” Telford’s voice had gentled, and he even gave her a smile. “Take your time.”

She hesitated a second more and then sighed again. “Good night, Oliver.”

“Good night.” He watched her until she had the door open, though he knew what came next wouldn’t bode well for him.

Shockingly, when he turned back to Telford, he found his face absent of the mask of thunder. It was instead open. Frank. And far too worried. “I don’t mean to be an ogre,” he said in what must be his normal voice, rather than the one set on intimidating him. “It’s just—you’re a vicar. And she doesn’t even have any use for God.”

A perfectly reasonable objection, really. If it were true. Oliver drew in a long breath. “I don’t think I’d have any use for the version of God she’s been taught either.”

Telford frowned. “Pardon?”

“A god who supposedly created a world we cannot understand, yet who himself can be handily put in a little box and tucked into my pocket?” Oliver shook his head. “Our Lord is the opposite of that. He has created a universe of order and rules—but He himself is so much bigger. So full of mystery. Your sister is coming to understand that, I think. And when she does, I have a feeling she’ll realize she not only has a use for God, but the greatest need of Him.”

The fact that Telford didn’t immediately respond told him he was letting the words sink in. Still, he sighed. “Even so. Forgive me for having pried, but I know your family spent their fortune on your brother’s physicians. I’m not judging you for it.” He lifted his hands as if to ward off Oliver’s defense—not that he’d intended to make one. “I would have done the same. I’d have paid anything to keep my father with us longer. But still, I have to consider it. Consider what’s best for her.”