The sigh that heaved its way up took all the fight out of her. “Don’t be silly, Lady Elizabeth. Perhaps it’s the other way round.”

It wasn’t, exactly. A lady couldn’t possibly expect her maid to come from anything grand. There was no reason to be embarrassed by her family. If anything, Libby would find the Moon home to be more than she likely expected.

But every time Mabena saw it, she still heard those vile words in her ears. “You aren’t enough, Benna. Your father’s a blighted shipwright, not a gentleman or an academic. You—you’re more suited to be a maid to the sort of woman I need than a lady yourself.”

Blast that blighted Cador Wearne. She ought to have kicked him from the bluff then and there, straight into the Atlantic he was so set on crossing. With the rage he’d kindled in her chest, she probably could have kicked him all the way to those coveted academic circles of his precious London.

“Mabena?”

And now she was gripping those bowls like she’d as soon grind them into dust with her bare hands as put them away. She slid them into their place in the cupboard and forced a smile. “Sorry, my lady. Bitter memories keep finding me. This is why I haven’t come back till now, I suppose.”

And she wouldn’t have come now if Beth Tremayne had the good sense to mind herself and not go disappearing. Mabena wasn’t ready to face all this. Not by half. And now she was casting blame on her oldest, dearest friend.

She dragged a long breath into her lungs. “Let’s bring a change of clothes. If I know you at all, one day in the Gardens won’t be enough. You’ll want to go back tomorrow, so we’d better just plan to stay overnight.”

Libby looked ready to skip to her room. Such a simple thing really shouldn’t bring an earl’s sister this kind of joy. “Perfect. Where shall we stay? With your family? Or is there a hotel or inn or something?”

“My mam would be honored to have you—and may disown me if I tried to stay anywhere else.”

“Meow.”

Mabena scowled down at the striped nuisance winding about Libby’s legs. She’d tried to forbid the cat from coming inside, but it had “slipped in” the other day when Libby held the door open—deliberately too long, if one were to ask Mabena—and had hidden under the lady’s bed until Mabena had given up trying to force it out.

She’d capitulated. More because of the happy smile on Libby’s face than because, really, it wasn’t her decision. But nothing said she had to be gracious about it. “And what are you going to do with the cat while we’re gone?”