As well it should be. There was no woman in all of England quite like Adelle Tremayne. But how long until everyone forgot that, when she greeted them by the wrong name or spoke of events from forty years ago as if they happened yesterday?

“Here we are, ladies.” Mrs. Dawe set the tray down on the low table before the sofa, beaming at them both. “And I’ve brought the young master in to share it with you.”

“Oh good.” Mamm-wynn motioned him closer and patted the space left on the sofa beside her. “I’ve been describing the flowers in our family garden for Libby, dearovim, but I don’t remember their Latin names, only the common ones. You’ll have to help us.”

Libby, was it? And why not—Mamm-wynn was probably more the lady’s peer than anyone else in the Scillies, having been born to a viscount’s second son herself. Oliver took the proffered seat with a smile. “Of course. And how are you today, my lady?”

She met his gaze, revealing eyes dancing with light. “Absolutely wonderful. I do believe I like Tresco even better than St. Mary’s, though I hadn’t thought it possible.” She grinned at Mamm-wynn. “Or perhaps it’s the company.”

She liked her. It should come as neither a surprise nor a relief, but . . . but he hadn’t realized until then how much he wanted her to like his grandmother. To like all of Tresco. “Both are without equal, to be sure.”

“Oh, you.” Mamm-wynn chuckled and tapped the page, on which were a few small but skillful drawings of the flowers from around their front door. “Latin.”

He provided the names while Mrs. Dawe prepared a plate of sandwiches and sweets for each of them. Rather impressed that Lady Elizabeth didn’t require any help in spelling the Latin, he made no objection when she flipped back to the pages dedicated to a few of the Australian specimens from the Abbey Gardens and asked for their binomial designations too.

They ate while they discussed the plants—since the Latin names led to which other varieties were related and how they managed to flourish so well in the Scillies—and he found himself rather liking the way Lady Elizabeth took actual, hungry bites of her sandwich, rather than the dainty nibbles he and Morgan used to tease Beth for attempting.

And why was he watching how she ate?

Mamm-wynn interrupted his thoughts with a hand on his wrist. With her other, she covered a yawn. “I think I’d better go and rest for a bit.”

Mrs. Dawe sprang forward from where she’d been waiting by the door for that very announcement.

Mamm-wynn let Oliver help her to her feet, though she paused once standing, as she always did, to pat his cheek. “I don’t imagine you two will complain about some time to yourselves.”