She’d always been independent, to be sure. She’d once boasted she could spend a week on one of the uninhabited islands without any help, and their father had granted her permission to prove it. She had, indeed, been quite well and happy, fishing for her meals and exploring. But that had been ages ago. In recent years, Beth had been more inclined toward drawing rooms and garden parties than survivalist skills. It was what had brought her here, after all—the promise of society on holiday. He moved into the living area and sat.

Lady Elizabeth reappeared a moment later, her arms full of books and parcels that were just a jumble until she spread them out on the low table beside a cannonball—a rather odd decoration, but he supposed Mrs. Pepper could have thought it would be charming. Though even then, he wasn’t certain what he was looking at. The only familiar item in the collection was a worn copy of Treasure Island. He reached for it, teeth clenched. Make that his worn copy of Treasure Island. He recognized the inkblot on the back and the nick on the bottom right corner, where his pen knife had slipped one day. “She left this here?”

And why did she ever take it to begin with? She’d borrowed it as a child, yes, but she’d long since returned it. It had been on the shelf in his bedroom for the past decade. Or so he’d thought. He flipped it open to where his name, written in pencil on the end leaf, was barely legible through the smudging of time.

“Flip a bit further, if you will.” Lady Elizabeth sat beside him on the sofa, a whiff of salt and sea and a hint of citrus reaching his nose. She leaned closer, clearly anticipating his obedience.

He turned a few more pages and let loose an involuntary shout of horror. “She’s written in it! I’m going to box her ears! What sort of monster marks up another person’s book?”

“It isn’t hers?”

“No—but it’s her hand that’s ruined it, that’s for certain.” He turned a few more pages, knowing well that his exasperation came out in every breath. “Why would she even take this from my room?”

He didn’t expect an answer. If there was one, it may in fact lie in the words Beth had so rudely scribbled into the margins, but he was too annoyed to read it. He was too annoyed, just now, to even wonder where his sister was. She’d better hope she was far, far away from him, though, because if she was anywhere nearby . . .