“Oh yes. Please do.” She bit her lip to keep any other assurances from spilling out. She could just imagine Mama across from her, waving a hand and telling her without words that she sounded far too eager. But . . . “We can show you the remaining things we found in the cottage, and you can let us know if they’re Beth’s—books, mostly. We weren’t certain, so we didn’t bring them.”
“That will be lovely. Mrs. Polmer promised me a batch of sticky buns from the bakery that morning. I’ll bring them with me.”
“I could hardly turn that down. Moon brought two home the other day, and they deserve to have songs written about them.” She smiled at his laughter, then bit her lip again. It had been on the tip of her tongue to invite him to return to their cottage for dinner Saturday night. But he’d probably already been claimed by a parishioner.
And she had been claimed by the Wights. Which was enough to eclipse the happy glow in her chest and replace it with dread. She didn’t want to break out one of her evening gowns, have Mabena dress her hair, and spend the evening trying to remember the right thing to say to a viscount and his rich cousin. She wanted to lounge about in her braid and her cotton and talk about unfinished fairy tales and the slides she’d made for her microscopes and listen to his stories about whatever mischief Mamm-wynn or Tas-gwyn Gibson would have found by then.
“You’d better come with me, Mrs. Tremayne.” Mrs. Gillis had appeared while Libby was trying not to say anything more. She flashed them each a smile and held out a hand toward the grandmother. “Mrs. Dawe said she needs to get the bread in the oven.”
The lady turned placidly around, still chuckling over whatever Enyon had said to her, and put her hand in Mrs. Gillis’s. “My toes are a bit cold.” Though rather than walking immediately away, she instead held Mrs. Gillis there, facing Libby and Oliver, and gave a contented little smile. “Aren’t you glad our Ollie finally found someone? And don’t they make a handsome pair?”
Now Libby had to bite her lip to keep the laughter from spilling out at the way Oliver Tremayne’s eyes yet again went wide with panic. “Mamm-wynn! We’re not—Mrs. Gillis, she’s—”
But Mrs. Gillis chuckled and winked at them. “I know, lad.” Though to Mamm-wynn she added, “Aye, they certainly do strike a fine pair. I always did like seeing the dark and the fair together like that. Though as I’ve said many a time, Mr. Tremayne, you could do with a visit to my brother.” She made a snipping motion with her hand, aimed at his hair. “Don’t you agree, my lady?”
Her opinion, she suspected, was solicited solely to pressure him to the barber. But Libby shrugged and grinned up at him. “I rather like it long.”
Mrs. Gillis tossed her free hand into the air and nudged Mrs. Tremayne forward. “Now he’ll never cut it.”
“Tremayne! Are you going to help with this gig or just stand there flirting all morning?”
Flirting? Were they flirting? Libby turned along with Oliver to see his friend’s teasing gaze and raised brows, knowing she was the one blushing now.
Oliver grinned. “Well, if you’re giving me a choice—I’ll take the flirting.”
His friend roared with laughter and waved him over. “Come on, Ollie. Some of us have work to do yet today.”
She expected him to simply follow, but instead he looked down at her, eyes still sparkling with amusement, and his fingers cupped her elbow, squeezed. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Her stomach did a lovely little flip. “I look forward to it.”
He released her and stepped away. Her elbow shouldn’t have felt so cold after a short three seconds of warmth from his tea-heated fingers, should it? He pivoted, took his next step backward so that he was facing her. “And my lady? Purple suits you.” His gaze brushed over the shawl before returning to her face.
The flip turned to a dance. “I know.” She grinned. “Mamm-wynn already told me so.”
She might have stood right there, watching him turn to his teammates and listening to his laughter, until the tide swallowed her up, had Mabena not obscured her view and all but pushed her away.
For a moment she thought it genuine horror on her friend’s face—but no, it was teasing. And her words were loud enough to be overheard by all the men. “Now you’ve done it—you’ve let him work his elbow-magic on you. You’re doomed now, my lady, to spill all your secrets to him.”
The group all laughed, even Oliver. Though he also shouted back, “Watch yourself, Mabena Moon. I’ve known yours since I was three years old!”
Libby chuckled with Mabena as they started back up the beach. Maybe it hadn’t been actual flirting, then. Probably not. After all, if it had been, she wouldn’t have held her own. Nothing made her tongue tie in knots and her stomach start aching like flirtation. Well, unless it was disapproval.
Mabena bumped their arms together. “I think the islands have been working their charm on you. I’ve never heard you flirt so effortlessly.”
“You mean it was flirting?” Laughter bubbled out. “I’d just convinced myself it must not have been! Oh, Mama would be proud.”
Mabena snorted. “Aye—at least until she realized who it was that you’d managed it with.”
She might as well have tossed a pail full of the cold Atlantic over her. “You don’t think she’d like Mr. Tremayne?” Dash it all—and why did she ask? Why did it matter?
“Oh, she’d adore him. Everyone does. She just wouldn’t like you liking him overmuch.” Mabena sighed. “That Wight girl had that much right, my lady. Society won’t accept his family, not fully, thanks to his mother and her family.” Her lips curled up in a self-deprecating smile. “There are members of it in service, you know. And they all work with their hands.”
“And what of it? It doesn’t make a person any less.”
“Most people would disagree.”
“Well, they’re wrong.” She surveyed the group of islanders, all drifting back along the path, carrying empty mugs and laughing together. “Everyone here knows that.”
Mabena’s sigh was as gusty as the air. “Maybe. And maybe they respect him the more for his mother. But that’s here. Your people, your place—”
“Mabena!” The voice was deep, clear, and totally unfamiliar. To Libby, though, the way Mabena stiffened said she recognized it perfectly well. And didn’t mean to acknowledge it, since she lifted her chin and kept herself facing forward rather than turning to greet its owner.
Its owner didn’t seem inclined to be ignored. His footsteps pounded, and a moment later he jumped in front of them, walking backward like Oliver had done a few minutes before. And yet not at all like Oliver.
Casek Wearne, that’s who it was. Libby recognized his breadth if not his face, which she hadn’t seen clearly before. And he barely glanced at her before directing the full wattage of his smile at Mabena.
He had nice teeth—straight and white. But the showcasing of them didn’t soften her friend’s posture any. “I hear you’re going back to St. Mary’s today,” he said. “Do you need a lift? I’ve another delivery coming on the ferry and need to run over anyway. I’d be happy to take you and the lady.”