Sometimes when they got protective of him, sound arguments weren’t really their specialty.
He turned again, just in time to see Mamm-wynn easing through the door. He rushed to her side so he could steady her and help her to a chair. Her chuckle said she didn’t need the help, but he would give it anyway. Sometimes she tottered a bit on uneven parts of the path. Other days she walked all the way to the Abbey Gardens and back, it was true, but he didn’t know which sort of day this was yet.
“Thank you, dearovim.” She clutched two neatly rolled bundles of yarn to her chest, setting them on the table after she settled into the chair beside her grandson. “They’ll be coming up the path about now, I think. Go round and bring them back here, Theo.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. And sure enough, the moment he rounded the corner of the house, he saw his three favorite women coming under the trellis. They were laughing together, which was surely a good sign and not a warning to brace himself for how much harder the blow would strike if their admiration turned to scorn upon realizing he intended Beth to be the next marchioness.
“There you are!”
They all looked his way, not a one of them seeming the least bit chastised by the clear note of frustration in his tone. Beth led them off the path and toward him.
He made himself keep scowling. “I say. I expected you hours ago—”
“Well, that was silly of you.” Abbie reached up as she drew near and patted him on the cheek. “You know we like to see a place in its entirety before we settle into one destination.”
“Or as much of its entirety as we reasonably can.” Millicent stretched up to kiss him on the cheek opposite the one Abbie had patted. “What lovely islands, Theo! It’s no wonder you’re content to spend the summer here.”
“Well, I—”
“Though we ought to be put out you waited so long to invite us.” Abbie slid her hand around his elbow and tugged him after Beth, who was still walking round the house. Though she was shooting a grin at them over her shoulder. “Trying to keep it all to yourself?”
“Of course not. That is—”
“Perhaps he knew how we’d complain about those holiday cottages.” Millicent laughed and took his other arm. “Really, dearest, they’re minuscule! I wasn’t certain at first if there would even be indoor facilities, though praise the Lord there are.”
“Well, they are designed for tourists. That is, just not—”
“I suppose we’re not your average . . . what is it the Cornish call us again, Beth dear?”
Beth turned, walking backward. Still grinning like Alice’s Cheshire cat. “Incomers.”
“Right.” Abbie nodded. “And we are most certainly incomers, and perhaps exacting ones. But we do also have a reputation for appreciating the true beauty of each place we visit. Isn’t that so, Millicent?”
“Absolutely. And so, tiny cottages notwithstanding, brother dearest, you ought to have invited us to join you sooner.” Millicent gave him a playful—mostly—slap on the arm.
He sighed. And looked behind them. “Where’s the—”
“The trunk? Oh, some local fellow offered to bring it up for us. Beth called him En-something.” Abbie gave a small tug on the leash when her pug stopped too long to sniff at the flower bed. “Don’t worry, she assured us he’s responsible and wouldn’t make off with all your pirate loot.”
“Actually, I believe she said he’d term it junk and was more likely to toss it into the sea than try to steal it.” Millicent chuckled. “We told him it was fragile, part of your collection, but didn’t mention what it contained.”
Sheridan blinked his way through all the information. “Ah. Enyon?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Abbie said with a nod. “I do love the Cornish names. They have such a ring to them, don’t they?”
He’d never really given them much thought. “Enyon is Oliver’s—”
“Best friend, we know. That’s what Beth said.”
Beth had vanished around the back corner of the house, but it took them only a few steps and one more pull of the leash to join her and her family in the back garden.
“Oh, how beautiful.” Millicent let go of his arm in favor of stepping closer to the climbing roses and leaning in for a long whiff.
Beth was grinning at him from behind Mamm-wynn at the table, and Oliver had stood. Beth set her gaze on his sisters. “My ladies, allow me to make introductions. This is my brother, the Reverend Mr. Oliver Tremayne of Truro Hall, and this is our grandmother, Mrs. Adelle Tremayne.”
As how-do-you-dos were exchanged, Mamm-wynn stood, holding out both hands to his sisters, who had the good grace to step forward and each take one. She smiled up at them with perfect delight.
“How lovely that you could join us. I do believe I knew your great-grandfather in my childhood.”
Well, that was news to him. While Sheridan frowned at Oliver, who shrugged, his sisters made questioning exclamations. Mamm-wynn, chuckling, motioned them to take seats and sank back into her own. “I just pieced it together this morning as I was contemplating your names. You see, my father and your great-grandfather were good friends, and my older cousin Millicent was the marquess’s first wife. She died within a year of marriage, poor thing. But the next marchioness had been a friend of hers, and when they wed some years after Millie’s death, she insisted upon naming one of their daughters Millicent. That would be your great-aunt, I believe?”
Millicent looked astounded. But she nodded. “We have a portrait of Great-Grandfather’s first wife in the gallery, haven’t we, Abbie?”
“A beautiful young lady. And your cousin, you say!” Abbie smiled. “I am constantly amazed at how small our world is. Theo, why are you just standing there? Pull out a chair for Beth.” She leaned close to Mamm-wynn across the table. “I promise you, we taught the boy manners.”
Now that he considered it, Telford might have had a point about them taking over everything the moment they arrived. And though he shot an amused-and-annoyed glance at Oliver for commiseration, his new friend couldn’t offer quite the same amount of it as his old. He only grinned.
Sheridan pulled out a chair and presented it to Beth with a flourish.
She gave him the absolute prettiest smile as she sat. “Why, thank you, my lord.”
He took the chair beside her and leaned close enough to whisper, “What in blazes took you so long? Where did you take them?”
They were still talking to Mamm-wynn about the original Millicent and Great-Grandmother Lucille, so they didn’t hear him. Luckily.
Beth kept her gaze on them. Perhaps to make sure they didn’t look their way—she was, after all, clever enough to realize they’d steal the conversation if they heard it happening. “Everywhere but the eastern isles. Around St. Agnes and Gugh, then Annet, which meant we passed Samson on our way here, so I showed them where I’d been staying and how I hid the Naiad while I was there.”
A huff of protest slipped out. “You’ve never shown me that.”
Now she looked at him, with light dancing in her storm-grey eyes. “Well, they aren’t nefarious marquesses with vile-intentioned henchmen.”