Closing her notebook and tucking her pen into her pocket, she started toward the nearest cluster of people. A woman who looked a decade or two older than Libby, sitting in a chair that a man she guessed to be a servant had carried down for her. An older man—the woman’s husband, most likely—was setting up a badminton net, the wind carrying to her his boasts that he’d “show the young pup how it was done.”

The “young pup” was a lad of about twelve, by her estimation, who was grinning and playing a game of keeping the birdie in the air with his racket. A girl, perhaps eight or nine, was on her knees in the sand, happily digging, while another woman—a nanny, most likely—tried to put a discarded hat on the girl’s head.

A normal family, by all appearances. Nothing to make her stomach clench. Libby made certain her feet kept to their easy, strolling pace and took her near to the mother. What was she really to do though? Just stop at her feet and say hello? Demand to know who she was? If she knew Beth Tremayne? Or the Sinclair family?

It had sounded so simple on paper last night when she made the plan. But when put to the test, Libby never had the faintest clue how to interact with the people who were supposed to be her peers.

The woman, however, didn’t seem to have the same problem. She was calling out a cheerful “Good morning!” the moment Libby was close enough.

Smiling back was not difficult. “Good morning.” She paused a polite distance away, making a show now of surveying the scene. “A lovely day for a family outing, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’s perfect! I’m so glad I convinced my husband to get us out of Manchester for the summer.” The woman stood and came nearer. “Mrs. Giles Haversham. Victoria.”

“How do you do?” Libby opened her mouth, ready to give Mrs. Haversham the same name she’d given Mrs. Pepper. But no. If she wanted to be the best possible help to the Tremaynes, she had to earn people’s trust. And, dash it to pieces, she’d do that better with her title. “I’m Lady Elizabeth Sinclair.”

And indeed, the woman’s eyes flashed brighter. “How do you do? Newly arrived on St. Mary’s with your family?”

Libby nodded, not bothering to correct her on the “with your family” bit. “Have you been here long?”

“Just since Monday, but it’s a charming place.”

She wouldn’t have encountered Beth at all then. Double dash it. “It is indeed. My maid is from Tresco, so I’ve made her promise to play tour guide for me. Though I was also hoping to find a few other holiday-goers who had been here longer and could tell me which spots they’ve most enjoyed.”