No. No, that wasn’t it at all. Oliver smiled to let him know he hadn’t been offended on Libby’s behalf. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but there was a layer beneath the equivocating one. He could glimpse it; he just couldn’t see it clearly quite yet. “We brothers are all the time underestimating our sisters, I’m afraid.” He certainly hadn’t expected his to disappear for so long—or to have uncovered any hints of Mucknell’s treasure, come to think of it.
Sheridan meandered toward the door with him, hands still in his pockets. “Mine practically raised me. I’ve two, one thirteen years my elder and the other fifteen years. We’ve never had a very typical sibling relationship, I fear, given that they were more mothers to me. Our parents both passed away when I was only four, you see.”
“How very sad. I’m so sorry to hear of your loss—though glad you had sisters who stepped into that role for you.”
Sheridan’s smile was easy—no doubt he didn’t even remember those days. “We got on well enough. You’ve a sister too, then? Not living at home? Elder or younger?”
“Younger. She’s . . . on holiday. Though I expect her back any day now.” Please, Lord. He led the way inside, ducking into the kitchen to wash his hands. He expected Sheridan to have continued toward the dining room, but he was waiting in the corridor when Oliver emerged again, studying one of Mamm-wynn’s drawings that they’d framed and hung on the wall. It was a labeled watercolor of an Echium plant. It was really no wonder she and Libby got along so well.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Oliver asked. “Or would you like me to show you to the library?”
“Ah.” Sheridan turned his way again, that easy smile on his lips. “No rush, whatever you like. And feel free to just tell me to entertain myself if you’ve things to do. Telly’s doing that all the time. He seems to think I’ll just follow him about forever unless he dismisses me.” That self-deprecating twitch of his lips. “No idea where he got that impression.”
Oliver chuckled. And it was nice to be able to do so. For all Sheridan’s odd foibles—and his seeming acceptance of the idea that he ought to marry Libby—Oliver liked him. “How about breakfast and then the library? You can browse to your heart’s content while I check that my grandmother is comfortable again.”
Sheridan nodded, but his eyes went curiously serious. Or perhaps not so curiously. “It was good of you. Very. To take us in like this, when you’ve such concerns. You could have just told us to go back to Penzance, Telly’s high-handedness be hanged. And we’d have gone—though don’t tell him I told you so. He likes to come off as more ferocious than he really is. A bit like Abbie’s pug. That’s my sister. Abbie, I mean. Not the pug.”
Oliver laughed again and led the way into the dining room, where Mrs. Dawe had porridge and toast and jam set out, along with a bit of bacon. “I won’t tell. Telford, that is—if ever I meet this Abbie, I may just imply that you told me your sister was a dog.”
They enjoyed a cheery breakfast that only dimmed a little when Telford joined them. Primarily because the man didn’t say a word, not even in response to Sheridan’s stage-whispered explanation that Telly detested mornings that began before ten and rarely spoke a word before eleven.
Suited Oliver just fine.
He was just finishing up when Mrs. Dawe poked her head into the room. “I see the girls coming up the street. Benna must be feeling better.”
“Oh good. Earlier than I dared expect them.” They must have decided to come over early so they could get back before the usual Wednesday-afternoon delivery. He stood and moved toward the front door, opening it to receive the morning breeze even though Mabena and Libby were still a fair way off. They were walking at an encouragingly normal pace, though, which told him Mabena must be feeling more herself. And Libby had a basket looped over her arm whose lid she was holding down, which must contain Darling.
Another figure, running full speed up the incline and bypassing the girls with a greeting he couldn’t hear from here, had him digging his fingers into the door. “Beth?” It looked like Beth, except that Beth never wore trousers as this figure did, not since she was a slip of a girl, anyway. But then, no one else on the islands had hair so fair, and the braid flying out behind her certainly insisted the person was a female.
A moment later, she was close enough to remove all doubt. Oliver stepped outside, not entirely certain whether he meant to greet her with a hug or a rebuke. Or both. “Beth!” Mabena and Libby were speeding to catch up with her, though there was no one who could do so when his sister was determined to be speedy, as she was now.
As she drew near, the worry etching lines into her face told him why. She dashed up the walk, threw herself into his arms, squeezed him tight, and said, “How is she? Tell me I’m not too late.” Then she pulled away again and made for the house.
Oliver pivoted to follow her, knowing Mabena and Libby would join them momentarily. “No, not too late. She seems to be rousing a bit. I hope.”
“Oof!”
Oliver pressed his lips against a grin when he finished his turn to find that his sister had plowed directly into Sheridan, who had trailed him to the door. “We have guests,” he belatedly informed her. “Lord Sheridan, allow me to present my sister, Miss Elizabeth Tremayne.”
“How do you do?” Sheridan steadied Beth with what must be his habitual cheerful smile and slid out of her way.
She shot Oliver a baffled look. “Guests? Now?”
“Your brother’s most gracious. Also, there was the fact that we—or Telly, rather, I like to think I didn’t do it—boxed him into a bit of a corner. Or, no, we boxed Libby. Well, Telly did. And Tremayne here thought to unbox her. Because, as I said. He’s most gracious.”
Beth had turned back to Sheridan during that explanation, if it could be called such. She blinked at him. Gave her next blink to Oliver, which clearly said, Where on earth did you dig this one up? And then, with a shake of her head, she took off again with a muttered, “Do excuse me. I must see my grandmother.”
Testament indeed to her worry. In days past, Beth would have been all too eager to make a good impression on any visiting nobleman—not that they’d ever had many of them in their house, other than an occasional distant relative of Mamm-wynn’s.
Perhaps whatever she’d gotten herself involved in this summer had rubbed away a bit of that yearning for that Something Else.
Oliver cleared his throat, three different cords tugging at him. He wanted to follow Beth, greet the girls, and get Sheridan tucked safely away in the library and didn’t know which to do first. It might be a bit obvious if he shoved Sheridan down the corridor with the front door still hanging open, so he decided to wait. He’d give Beth a moment with their grandmother before following her, and then he would explain everything to her. For now, he held the door open for Benna and Libby, who were at the gate already, and sighed a bit when he saw Casek Wearne alter his trajectory toward them as well. He was still in his rowing clothes, coming up the hill at a jog. Must have spotted Mabena.
Oliver was apparently going to have a houseful this morning.
His cousin’s eyes were blessedly clear of pain. And Libby’s full of it, though more the emotional sort than physical. She smiled at him, but the smile stiffened and faded when she glanced past him and presumably spotted Sheridan.