The wind snatched the breath right from Libby’s lungs. “No!” So that’s what Mrs. Pepper had meant when she mentioned how Beth wasn’t like their parents. And now she was missing, after last being seen climbing into her boat? Oh, Mr. Tremayne must be an absolute wreck of worry, though he’d done an admirable job holding himself together.

Lottie nodded. “The older brother is a bit of a mystery, Emily said. Beth would never talk much of him, and he never once stepped foot on their estate in Cornwall, despite being the heir. He always sent the younger in his place.” She gave an exaggerated shiver though the sun was warm and the story far from spooky. “I asked around a bit, and there’s talk of him having been deformed. Like Quasimodo, perhaps. His family was clearly ashamed of him.”

No, that couldn’t be right. Libby couldn’t imagine Oliver Tremayne ashamed of his brother, no matter what he might look like. The eyes that had drilled down to her soul hadn’t been capable of looking on his own flesh and blood with anything but the deepest love. She was sure of it. “Charlotte.”

The use of her full name, Libby had found during their shared year of finishing school, was able to pull Lottie back better than a longer chide ever could.

“Well, what better explanation do you have for why the eldest son and heir would never have anything to do with his own business? The younger went to university and joined the church as expected, but he never spoke of his older brother. Why, I ask you?”

“Perhaps,” said a harsh voice from before them that made Libby look up with a jolt, “because he wouldn’t sully the thoughts of his saint of a brother with such vitriol as your sort would offer.”

For a moment, she scarcely recognized Mabena, snarling as she was, with her hat held in her hands instead of fastened in place, and curls wisping all around her face. But it was definitely she who stood before them. Clearly having come to look for Libby. And clearly having heard at least the last bit of their conversation, over which she was even more annoyed than Libby had known she could be.

Charlotte, of course, didn’t look chastised. She just lifted her chin. “And who are you?”