Maybe he intended it to be a jab at Bram’s presence. She couldn’t be entirely certain, though she rather hoped it was.
And her brother clearly felt it as such, given the way his posture stiffened still more.
Another shadow filled the doorway, this one the frowning, hulking form of Casek Wearne. “I thought we were meeting at the boat, Tremayne. Why are you . . . ?” He trailed off as he stepped inside. And his frown rivaled Bram’s. “Who are you blokes? Everything all right, Benna? My lady?”
Mabena pressed her lips together over what Libby suspected was another laugh. Or at least a grin. She tipped the teapot over a cup and handed it to Sheridan. “Everything’s fine, dearovim.”
“I beg to differ.” Bram looked as though steam might spill out of his ears to match the kettle at any moment. “I don’t care for the fact that strange men just waltz into my sister’s holiday cottage without so much as a by-your-leave.”
Casek didn’t shift at all upon realizing Bram was a lord, not just a bloke. He looked, in fact, utterly unimpressed. “You’re the lady’s brother?” She could have hugged him for his sneer. “You don’t seem much like her.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“That she never lords over anyone. Fit right in, did our lady. You seem more cut from Tremayne cloth.”
Insulting both him and Oliver in one fell stroke. Libby didn’t know whether to be impressed or panicked.
Her brother didn’t seem too conflicted. Just annoyed. “Hardly.”
“Oh, look, her door’s open!” A new voice drifted in from outside and made her decide on panicked. Not Lottie too. She didn’t need anyone else crowding in here, and—drat it all, Charlotte Wight never did know when not to stick her nose in. She burst through the open door, the dual shadows of the viscount and Mr. Bryant behind her. “Libby, you’re back! I was hoping you would be soon. I have the absolute best news—Emily is returning! Only there are no cottages left to let, so I . . .”
Someday, this would all be very amusing to look back on. Someday, Libby would no doubt laugh at how many times the same pattern was played out, with guests coming in unannounced and then stammering to a halt upon spotting Bram. Someday, perhaps, she would even joke with her brother about the effect he had on people.
Someday seemed very far away just now. Now she just had to marvel at the sheer bad luck of it. And somehow find the gumption to make introductions. She began with a loud clearing of her throat. “Bram, you may recall that I mentioned my friend from the Château. This is her, Miss Charlotte Wight, along with Lord Willsworth and his cousin, Mr. Bryant. Everyone, my brother, Lord Telford. And his friend, Lord Sheridan.”
The fellows had crossed paths before, as evidenced by Sheridan’s cheerily trying to place where they’d done so. Bram no doubt recalled, but he’d lapsed into a frown again after an obligatory greeting, gaze flicking from the viscount to Libby to Oliver. She could all but read his thoughts—he was wondering if his little sister hadn’t managed to find a decent fellow to spend time with after all, and then doubting she had the sense to follow up on it. He’d be noticing how awkward Lord Willsworth looked as he edged into the cottage—into which he’d clearly never stepped foot—versus how comfortably Oliver had let himself in.
While Sheridan chattered at Willsworth and Bryant, Lottie turned to Libby with wide eyes that all but screamed, Your brother is here! “Anyway,” she said as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Emily. There’s nothing left to let on St. Mary’s, and our cottages are positively bursting already—my aunt and cousins just arrived, you see, which I hadn’t known they’d be doing when I extended the invitation to Lady Emily. So, I was rather hoping you could put her up here? You’ve two bedrooms, haven’t you? And if the maids prefer it, they could room with ours. Or we could lend a couple cots for them, if you prefer they stay nearby. Though to be sure, I hadn’t realized your brother was here. Where is he staying? Did he find a room somewhere? We’ve had absolutely no luck finding anything, though perhaps it’s because he swooped in and let the last ones.”
Bram shifted to Libby’s side, fingers gripping her elbow. “Your friend can have the whole cottage. Libby is coming home.”
Lottie’s face fell. “Oh, but she mustn’t! I had such fun planned for the three of us! And it was probably quite a task for Em to convince Lord and Lady Scofield to let her join us and—”
Porcelain clattered as Sheridan’s cup met his saucer. Odd, that. He didn’t usually lack for grace. “Did you say Scofield? I mean, pardon me. Not to interrupt.”
Not that Lottie minded, given the fact that it was another eligible bachelor who did the interrupting. She dimpled, nodded. “That’s right. Lady Emily Scofield, one of my dearest friends. Along with Libby, of course. It shall be properly wonderful, having all three of us together!”
Bram had at least turned his narrowed eyes on Sheridan, though his fingers didn’t loosen any on Libby’s elbow. “I do apologize for disrupting your plans, Miss Wight. But my sister is needed at home.”
“No, I’m not.” It came out as little more than a squeak though, covered by another loud gush of wordy displeasure from Lottie. Libby squeezed her eyes shut, wincing a bit when Darling’s claws bit in as he tried to climb a little higher onto her shoulder. He was no doubt as fond of the crowd as she was.
Sheridan’s voice won out next over the din. “Oh, we’ve been staying in Penzance the last two days, ferrying over. You’re right—there’s absolutely nothing here to let.”
Libby forced her eyes open, trying—and failing—to pull her elbow free from Bram’s hand. “Then you had better get back to the ferry. The last one’s leaving soon, I believe.”
Bram glared down at her. “You’re absolutely right, Libby. So you had better start packing. Moon can help you with that, and I’ll see to your . . . guests.”
“I told you.” Not only was her voice still too faint to be heard above the other chatter in the room, but it was quavering now too. “I can’t leave right now.”
Her brother let out an exasperated sigh. Then, miraculously, his face softened. A bit. “You can bring the cat, you know that. Have you a basket or something to put him in? He is a pretty little thing.”
He had always had a soft spot for animals—at least the ones he could claim as pets, as he didn’t share her fascination with the wild creatures of the world. But she shook her head, throat going tight. “It isn’t Darling, Bram.”
His eyes darkened.
“We’d probably have room for one of you—don’t you think, Bryant?” Willsworth was saying. “Or, hmm. You probably have your valets with you?”
“Yes, in Penzance still though. No point in them coming over with us every day,” Sheridan replied. “And that’s very kind of you, my lord. Though—I say, Telly—what do you think? Give your sister a day, couldn’t we? We could get along all right for a day without our valets.”
All the noise was making her head buzz in a way it hadn’t done since she’d escaped the London ballrooms. “A day will not be enough. I need the rest of the summer.”