There—that was a rather skillful fishing for information, wasn’t it? As subtle as any of the drawing room conversation Mama had tried so desperately to teach her.

“You may want to talk to the Myer family, then. They’re letting a house to the north and have been here since May.”

Perfect. She chatted a bit longer, until the little girl called her mother over to show her the haphazard sandcastle she’d built, and Libby seized the opportunity to wish them a good day and walk on.

She introduced herself to six more neighbors over the next two hours, and it got a bit easier each time to approach the lady of the family and say hello. They were all friendly enough, though none had been here more than two weeks. And the Myers, she discovered when she happened across their next-door neighbors, were already gone for the day, having hired a boat to take them to St. Martin’s for some bird watching.

Bird watching. Her heart thrilled at the mere mention. She’d have to make time for that at some point as well.

Walking back wouldn’t take nearly as long as walking this far had done, since she wouldn’t feel the obligation to do more than wave a cheery greeting at all the people she’d just met, so she decided to press on a bit farther, past the Myers’ cottage. She’d go so far as that stone one up ahead and then—

“Libby? Lady Elizabeth, is that you?”

She froze, telling herself she was surely imagining the familiarity of the voice. Though of course she wasn’t, because otherwise how would the voice have known her name? But really, what were the chances that Charlotte Wight was here, now?

Very good, apparently, as proved by the young lady who ran toward her, laughing, arms outstretched, as if Libby were the very dearest of long-lost friends. She drummed up a smile but didn’t manage to get her own arms raised before Lottie swept up to and over her like the tide, crushing her in an embrace.

“I can’t believe it!” the young lady squealed directly into her ear. “It’s been ages! You look just the same though.”

From anyone else from the finishing school where Libby had met her, it would have been a catty insult—young ladies weren’t supposed to emerge “just the same” as they were when they matriculated. But Lottie hadn’t a cruel bone in her body. Libby had to grant her that much.