“Absolutely not.” Now her brother’s gaze scorched the entire company, as if he wasn’t sure who to blame but knew one of them must be responsible for this seeming daftness in his usually pliant little sister. “You’re coming home.”
“I am not!” This time she actually shouted. Her—shouted. And the whole room fell silent.
Bram stared at her as if she’d grown a second head and named it Alice. Clearly he didn’t know what to make of her. Never in her life had she contradicted him about something like this, even when they were children. He cocked his head to the side. “If you’re staying . . . then I’m staying.”
Her stomach positively heaved. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she muttered into Darling’s stripes. To prove it, her knees wobbled, and she might have crumpled to the floor if not for Bram’s hand on her arm.
Oliver was at her other side, somehow. Bram’s fingers gone and his leading her backward a step, to the sofa. She sank down onto it without quite knowing how he’d performed that magic trick and not really caring. It let her lower her head and drag a few soothing breaths into her lungs.
“It’s all right,” he was murmuring to her. “You’ll be right as rain in a moment. Too many people, I’m guessing?”
Too many people here. All wanting something of her, none of which she knew how to give without compromising the one thing she needed. “I can’t leave. I can’t.” Her voice was still shaking, sounding embarrassingly near panic. And why? She’d never even felt this flustered at a ball. Close, but there she’d known what was coming. And there, most people ignored her. They weren’t all crowding into her rooms, demanding she house this one and leave with that one and abandon the only people who had ever made her feel at home while the dearest woman in the world lay unconscious nearby. “Mamm-wynn.”
“Who the devil is Mamm-wynn?” Bram, hovering over her.
Oliver cleared his throat. “My grandmother. We found her unconscious yesterday, and she’s yet to awaken. She and your sister took a fancy to each other, my lord.”
Bram hissed out a breath. “That’s why you don’t want to leave? For heaven’s sake, Libby, why didn’t you just say so? Am I such a monster that you think I’d force you from the sickbed of an old woman you’re fond of?”
She didn’t rightly know. It had never come up.
Oliver stroked a comforting hand over her back, once. Enough to still a few of the tremors. Probably enough to earn more of Bram’s ire too. “I’ll do what I can here,” he whispered to her. Then he stood, cleared his throat. “Lord Sheridan, Lord Telford—you’re both welcome to lodge at my house on Tresco for as long as you like. We’ve the room. For your valets too, if you send for them tomorrow. Miss Wight, I’m certain I can help your other friend find somewhere to let. Why don’t you all go ahead home for now, and I’ll ask around a bit. When is she arriving?”
“Friday.”
“Lovely. That should be enough time. I’ll send you word tomorrow. Casek, would you run down to Mrs. Gilligan’s and ask if she’d consider letting someone stay in the flat above her shop this summer, since her daughter isn’t using it after all?”
Within a few seconds, he’d somehow ushered Lottie, Willsworth, and Bryant out the door—and they were thanking him for it, not seeming at all like they felt pushed out. Libby breathed a bit easier when they were gone. Casek went too, though with a bit of grumbling and a snarl that he’d meet Oliver back at the boat.
Oliver also stepped toward the door. “I won’t impose any longer. I’ll just . . .” He held out the bottle of aspirin as a finish to his sentence and slid it onto the table, his gaze moving to Mabena. “Don’t let your headache get out of control, Benna. Take it, and then to bed with you.”
Mabena had managed to fix her own cup of tea during the chaos. She leaned against the wall now, sipping it. “I’ll be well again tomorrow. Well enough, anyway, to take Libby back over to Tresco to see your grandmother.”
“If not, I’m happy to ferry you both. Let’s say if you’re not there by ten o’clock, I’ll come and fetch you, shall we?”
Mabena tilted her head. “That seems reasonable.”
It didn’t escape Libby’s notice that Bram hadn’t agreed to Oliver’s plan. But even now, with no one left in the cottage but the five of them, he didn’t object. He just regarded Oliver evenly for a long moment and then asked, “I suppose your boat is at the little quay in Hugh Town?”
Oliver nodded, and Bram mirrored it. “We saw it when we were exploring the town yesterday. Sher, why don’t you go down with Mr. Tremayne now, and give me a moment with my sister?”
Sheridan, of course, agreed easily. He swigged the last of his tea and stood. Oliver nodded his agreement too, shooting one final look at Libby. It said a lot, that look. More than words ever could. And made her stomach settle enough that, after dragging in a deep breath, she could stand again. “Thank you, Mr. Tremayne. For all your assistance.” The mister felt odd on her tongue after having used Oliver for the last few days. Silently she added, You didn’t have to do this. I appreciate that you did.
He must have received her unspoken message. His eyes twinkled at her. “It’s truly my pleasure, Lady Elizabeth.”
He and Sheridan departed, and Mabena slipped discreetly to her room. She’d no doubt still hear every word, but it gave them at least a pretense of privacy.
Bram didn’t linger long in silence. He sat again, without taking his gaze from her face. “Is it really about the grandmother?”
She sank back onto the sofa. “Yes.” It was the truth, if not the whole truth. But she couldn’t tell Bram about the mysteries and dangers holding her here—he’d forcibly drag her back to the mainland. And she certainly couldn’t tell him that she couldn’t imagine leaving Oliver or the islands. He’d have her over his shoulder in a heartbeat, carrying her off kicking and screaming.
He let out a long exhale, eyes still narrowed a bit. “I don’t know that I believe you. He walked in here as if he owned the place. And what happened to Moon that he came barging in with aspirin and orders to rest? She’s never been prone to headaches, has she?”
She had her doubts that he’d have known it if she were. But she shook her head. “She slipped in a cave and hit her head rather badly. It’s why we were on Tresco an extra night.” If he’d been chatting with Mrs. Pepper already, he’d have learned that she ought to have been back yesterday. Though with a bit of luck, thoughts of Mabena would distract him from thoughts of Oliver.
Wishful thinking, that. “I knew the moment he showed up at Telford Hall that he was trouble.”
Libby rolled her eyes. “You did not. And he isn’t. He’s . . .” Wonderful. Dream worthy. The best man I’ve ever met. “. . . very kind. He answers all my questions about the flora and fauna of the islands with endless patience.”
He grunted. “I imagine he does. But put those thoughts I can see you thinking out of your head straightaway. You’re marrying Sheridan, not some—”
“I am not!”