“Someone who knew Morgan Tremayne from the day I was born, that’s who. Someone who can tell you, as could any soul on the islands, that never was a kinder, more generous-hearted man ever born, unless it be his younger brother.” Mabena lifted a finger and poked it in Lottie’s general direction. “Shame on you for speaking so of the dead. You want to know why he never left the island? Because he couldn’t, that’s why. His health was too fragile. As if he were the only gentleman ever afflicted so! And you, to sully his good name on account of an ailment he couldn’t help! I say again, shame on you. On both of you.”

Though the words only made Lottie bristle, they cut Libby to the quick. She hadn’t said anything bad about Morgan Tremayne. She’d in fact been defending the whole family in her thoughts and one-word rebuke. But there was no deterring Charlotte Wight from conversation. How could she be blamed for merely being present while she gossiped?

All the same, she knew well if it had been the Botanist standing before them now rather than a neighbor of his, he’d be looking at her in just that way. And the thought of it made her chest go so tight she could hardly draw breath enough to say, “Moon, please. Charlotte meant no harm.”

For the first time in fifteen minutes, Lottie released her arm. “You know this . . . person, Libby?”

“She’s my maid.” The words felt wrong. Why, when they were true? When Mabena wouldn’t want to be introduced as a friend? But all the same, she felt the chafing of it. To Mabena she added, “Charlotte said a friend of hers—Lady Emily Scofield—recommended she find Beth while she was here this summer. Lady Emily and Beth are friends, it seems.” She hoped Mabena would hear in it that this was the real reason she’d been listening. That was her whole purpose today, after all. To find anyone who might have met Beth. And while Lottie hadn’t, it still seemed significant that she, too, had been searching for her.

Because if there was one thing Lottie was proving even now, it was that she was an expert at finding out all the gossip to be had about a person. That could be useful—though tricky to determine which parts were true.

Mabena didn’t soften any. “Given what she clearly thinks of the family, I’m surprised she’d deign to obey her friend’s advice.”

Lottie crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, sometimes we must keep company with people we’d rather not, when there’s no other option. Right, Libby?”

Though it may in fact have been true—and accurately explained their friendship—she clearly meant Mabena now, and the fact that Libby was “forced” to keep company with her. But never in a million years would she agree.