Oliver laughed and led her onto one of the first paths she’d walked here, with Mamm-wynn. They were moving slowly, as a nod to the wound in his side from two days ago. The bullet had only grazed him, but still. It had required stitches, and he probably should have chosen rest over an evening stroll with her, though she was selfishly glad he hadn’t.

“Not a chance,” he said. “I think it infinitely more likely that Beth and Sheridan will come to blows first.”

Libby chuckled too. It seemed that the more they’d pieced together about the silverware—once a gift to Queen Elizabeth, but which had been purchased by a nobleman in the days of Cromwell for his wife, only to be stolen by the pirate for his—the more heated Beth and Sheridan’s arguments became. “Beth does have a point, that the silverware has no connection to Prince Rupert of the Rhine, and so why should he have it for his private collection?”

“And Sheridan has a point, that it shouldn’t be entrusted to a museum, not given the Scofields’ influence in those circles. If what Lady Emily fears about them is true, it may never see a museum display if we were to donate it somewhere. It would end up in the hands of the American willing to pay for it.” Oliver shrugged. “We have time to decide. It’s safe enough for now.”

Safe in the small hidden chamber in Tas-gwyn Gibson’s foundation, where Beth had found the map to begin with. Matching the one on the opposite side where the letters had been stashed. Between the two, there was just enough room to store the silverware.

If there was more to Mucknell’s treasure, it hadn’t been buried in the same spot. But the sheer amount of silver made it a valuable haul, and all the more so when one considered its provenance. More collectors than Sheridan and the American would be willing to pay handsomely for pirate loot once owned by a queen.

“And we have the rest of summer to make our decision.” She leaned into his arm, still not quite capable of taking that in. Bram had relented. They were staying here, both of them. Lorne was safely housed in Tresco’s single jail cell and would be shipped to the Cornwall magistrate soon, and the authorities would be keeping a keen eye out for any yacht called Victoria.