“Microscope?” Oliver stood, being too much of a gentleman to do otherwise. Though with an eagerness that said he might just leave Mabena to inform herself while he went to investigate the lady’s toy.

Had the lady not been there, Mabena would have laughed out a “Down, boy,” as if he were the wolfhound he’d had as a lad.

Perhaps he heard her silent jest even through her still lips, because he glanced her way and relaxed. A bit.

Libby was already angled toward the bedrooms. “The light isn’t very good for its mirror out here right now, but I can bring it too, if you like. Not that it will help us with the question of your sister, but . . .”

But she’d heard the note of eagerness, obviously. And where it made Mabena want to roll her eyes, it would make Libby thrum her own note of it. Quite a chord they’d make—or part of one, anyway.

“Ah.” Usually Ollie would have been quick to agree. But it took him a long moment to say, “That would be lovely, if you don’t mind. I haven’t seen one since my university days.”

Libby smiled, bobbed her head in a half-shy acknowledgment, and scurried into the bedroom.

Oliver spun on Mabena, making it quite clear why he’d hesitated but decided to ask—to buy him a few more minutes to question her as the lady gathered things up in the other room. “What in blazes are you about, Benna?”

“Exactly what I said. She wanted to visit, so we came.”

His eyes, nearly black, snapped at her. “Don’t lie to me. I know very well coming here couldn’t have been her idea.”

Everyone knew her so well, did they? First Casek Wearne, and now Oliver Tremayne. She planted her hands on her hips, then huffed out a breath. They had a point, after all. “Fine.” She shifted a bit so she’d see the moment Libby reappeared in her doorway. “If you must know, Lady Elizabeth had a rather urgent need to escape her family. And I knew of no other place to recommend she go.”

There. That had enough of the truth in it that he ought to hear it in her voice and believe her.

Which he must have done, given the way he frowned and eased closer, darting a glance at where Libby had gone. “What? Why did she have to escape them? She wasn’t in any danger, was she? Hurt in some way?”

That was Ollie—always ready to play the hero.