But Lottie never minded that Libby hadn’t a clue how to keep up with her conversation. In fact, Libby had always suspected that was why the talkative girl had latched on to her during their shared year at the academy. Libby was one of the only ones who didn’t fight her for a part in the conversation.

She was also always so exhausted by her after an hour that she’d hidden from one of her only friends at school more often than she was comfortable admitting. But really, when only one side did all the talking, could they even properly be called friends? Lottie knew precious little of her, other than that she was fond of “that science nonsense.” And that she had an earl for an older brother. The thing all of society most cared about, it seemed.

“But now the summer is absolutely perfect,” Lottie was saying, unhindered as usual by Libby’s lack of participation. “Mother, look who I found wandering the beach! Lady Elizabeth Sinclair! You remember Libby, don’t you? From the Château Mont-Choisi?”

At the name of the elite finishing school that Mama had forced Libby to attend for a year, Mrs. Wight looked up from her book with bright eyes. “Oh, of course! How do you do, Lady Elizabeth?”

“Very well, thank you. How do you do?”

Before her mother could answer, Lottie had started up again. “Mother and I were just talking about the dinner party we’ve been planning for ages—it’s a week from tomorrow. You must come. Mustn’t she, Mother? She can be Lord Willsworth’s partner. Mother was terribly worried that we hadn’t anyone to pair with him, but this solves everything!”

Her head was starting to spin. A dinner party? No, no, no. This was not what she’d come to the Isles of Scilly for. The very opposite. “Oh, I—”

“Sinclair, did you say?” Mrs. Wight straightened in her chair and narrowed her eyes. “Lady Telford’s daughter, correct? Why, I had a wire from your mother just this morning, dear, saying we ought to find you, that you were holidaying here as well. She heard that we were here from a mutual friend, it seems.”

Libby sighed. Leave it to Mama to discover that even before Libby could, from hundreds of miles away.

Lottie was still grinning. “Where are you staying, Libby? I’ll walk back with you so we can plot and plan. Is that all right, Mother?”

Mrs. Wight was already looking back at her book. “Of course, dear. And you know well she may come to absolutely anything we host—I insist upon it, as a matter of fact.”

“Perfect. Come.” Their elbows still locked together, Lottie spun them around and started them back the way from which Libby had come. “This direction, I assume?”