“We saw someone running in the opposite direction. Enyon’s chasing him down.”
Lorne snorted. “Good luck. That one’s slippery as an eel.”
“We catch eels all the time.” The constable moved with practiced ease over the rocks toward them, handcuffs at the ready and eyes taking everything in. He frowned at Oliver. “You’re injured?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Telford rolled his eyes. “He was shot. Saving that one.” He motioned at Casek.
“Really.” The constable looked from Oliver to Casek and back again. “High time you lads learned to get along.”
Libby pressed herself a bit closer to Oliver’s side. And Telford didn’t even scowl at her. Just sighed and said, “I suppose if that’s how you treat your enemies, I’m looking forward to seeing how you behave with your friends. And,” he added quickly when Libby drew in a breath, “I imagine we’ll be taking the rest of the summer here to see it. There won’t be any prying Sheridan away now. Nor Libby. So we’ll see how patient you really are with that ‘as long as you like’ offer of staying with you, Tremayne.”
Libby made the sweetest little squeak. “You mean it? We can stay the rest of the summer?”
“I suppose.”
She abandoned Oliver to dart around him and throw her arms around her brother. Which brought a grin to his lips—and to Telford’s too, though he tried to smother it.
“Well.” Mamm-wynn accepted Mabena’s help out of the boat, onto the rocks. “Perhaps we might continue this conversation in the daylight? It’s a bit chilly in here. And I’m famished.”
No one objected, so the crowd of them made their way up to the entrance and out into the warm sunshine, the mist having vanished as stealthily as it had descended. The constable and Lorne emerged first, and two deputies took him none too gently in hand. Oliver blinked at the onslaught of light when they emerged, glad to spot Beth, Sheridan, and Lady Emily safely on the sand a small distance away.
Not quite as glad to see Enyon jogging back to them, alone. His best friend was waving a hand and shouting, “Ollie! You all right? When I heard a gunshot, I about charged in then and there! But then when that bloke charged out—he was fast! Gave me the slip.”
“I’m all right!” More explanation than that he wasn’t going to shout for the whole island to hear.
Especially since his sister had just spotted their grandmother and had some shouting of her own to do. “Mamm-wynn! What are you doing out of bed? And here, of all places?”
Their grandmother laughed. “Saving the day, of course. I had to. All my favorites were here.”
It only took Oliver a few steps to realize that the adrenaline was ebbing away—and his side was absolutely on fire. He pressed a hand to it, wincing, and looked down to see blood seeping through the shawl.
Telford’s hand gripped his arm again. “Feeling it now, are you, old boy?”
“Perhaps a bit.”
He eased closer. “Well. I don’t imagine it’s life threatening.” He pitched his voice to a whisper too low to be heard by anyone else, given the dozen conversations going on all about them. “Which means you’ll be wanting to propose sooner or later this summer. I won’t object. And I won’t cut her off—emotionally, I mean. I couldn’t. She’s my sister.” He sent a hard glare up the beach in the direction Scofield must have disappeared. “Some of us know what that means.”
Libby had taken a step away to answer someone’s question about something, but she stepped close again now, smiling up into Oliver’s face. “Are you all right? Does it hurt? We’ll get you to a doctor straightaway.”
He smiled right back at her. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.” How could it? Telford had just handed him the most precious gift in the world. That sort of joy didn’t leave any room for pain.
Libby breathed in deeply of the riot of floral scents on the evening breeze, her gaze feasting on the colors available to it in the Abbey Gardens. Mr. Menna had ushered all the other tourists out an hour ago, but he’d let Oliver and her come in for a stroll, just instructing Oliver to lock the gate when he left.
Her hand was tucked into the crook of his elbow. And pure contentment flowed through her veins. “Do you think they’ll come to an agreement while we’re gone?”
Oliver laughed and led her onto one of the first paths she’d walked here, with Mamm-wynn. They were moving slowly, as a nod to the wound in his side from two days ago. The bullet had only grazed him, but still. It had required stitches, and he probably should have chosen rest over an evening stroll with her, though she was selfishly glad he hadn’t.
“Not a chance,” he said. “I think it infinitely more likely that Beth and Sheridan will come to blows first.”
Libby chuckled too. It seemed that the more they’d pieced together about the silverware—once a gift to Queen Elizabeth, but which had been purchased by a nobleman in the days of Cromwell for his wife, only to be stolen by the pirate for his—the more heated Beth and Sheridan’s arguments became. “Beth does have a point, that the silverware has no connection to Prince Rupert of the Rhine, and so why should he have it for his private collection?”
“And Sheridan has a point, that it shouldn’t be entrusted to a museum, not given the Scofields’ influence in those circles. If what Lady Emily fears about them is true, it may never see a museum display if we were to donate it somewhere. It would end up in the hands of the American willing to pay for it.” Oliver shrugged. “We have time to decide. It’s safe enough for now.”
Safe in the small hidden chamber in Tas-gwyn Gibson’s foundation, where Beth had found the map to begin with. Matching the one on the opposite side where the letters had been stashed. Between the two, there was just enough room to store the silverware.
If there was more to Mucknell’s treasure, it hadn’t been buried in the same spot. But the sheer amount of silver made it a valuable haul, and all the more so when one considered its provenance. More collectors than Sheridan and the American would be willing to pay handsomely for pirate loot once owned by a queen.
“And we have the rest of summer to make our decision.” She leaned into his arm, still not quite capable of taking that in. Bram had relented. They were staying here, both of them. Lorne was safely housed in Tresco’s single jail cell and would be shipped to the Cornwall magistrate soon, and the authorities would be keeping a keen eye out for any yacht called Victoria.
Not that the American who presumably owned it had necessarily done anything wrong, but Scofield could reappear if it did. Thus far no one had reported seeing him, including the ferry operator. But then, he hadn’t taken the ferry here that morning either. According to Lady Emily, he had several friends with yachts and had probably come and gone by himself. There had been a pleasure craft docked at the port in Hugh Town for a few hours the other day, which gave credence to the thought.
“I still can’t believe that telegram Lady Emily received.” Oliver shook his head, eyes troubled. “They can’t have meant it, can they? That she isn’t welcome home until she’s sorted things out with her brother?”