Page 17 of The Nature of a Lady
Oliver spun on Mabena, making it quite clear why he’d hesitated but decided to ask—to buy him a few more minutes to questionheras the lady gathered things up in the other room. “What in blazes are you about, Benna?”
“Exactly what I said. She wanted to visit, so we came.”
His eyes, nearly black, snapped at her. “Don’t lie to me. I know very well coming here couldn’t have been her idea.”
Everyone knew her so well, did they? First Casek Wearne, and now Oliver Tremayne. She planted her hands on her hips, then huffed out a breath. They had a point, after all. “Fine.” She shifted a bit so she’d see the moment Libby reappeared in her doorway. “If you must know, Lady Elizabeth had a rather urgent need to escape her family. And I knew of no other place to recommend she go.”
There. That had enough of the truth in it that he ought to hear it in her voice and believe her.
Which he must have done, given the way he frowned and eased closer, darting a glance at where Libby had gone. “What? Why did she have to escape them? She wasn’t in any danger, was she? Hurt in some way?”
That was Ollie—always ready to play the hero.
No, it was more than that. Always quick, so quick, to care. This time her exhale was more sigh than huff. “Nothing like that. Her brother was trying to convince her to marry his best friend, Lord Sheridan—a marquess. And the lady wanted nothing to do with his plans. That’s all.” Libby wouldn’t be happy she’d shared that, probably, given her inclination toward privacy. But she couldn’t very well let Ollie worry over her too, could she?
His shoulders eased back down to a normal position, rolled back. He nodded. And reached for her elbow. “Mabena—”
“Oh no you don’t.” She leapt away from his touch. “None of that elbow-magic of yours, Oliver Tremayne. I’ll keep my heart to myself, thank you.”
He breathed a laugh and slanted a look at her that made his next words redundant. “I don’t need your elbow to know your heart.”
Probably true, but still. Everyone in the Scillies knew that when Oliver Tremayne took hold of your arm and looked deep into your eyes, he saw right down to your soul. A few of the old biddies whispered that it went beyond the natural. Mabena didn’t know aboutthat, but she granted it had made him the easy choice to fill the role of village vicar. Everyone had already loved him. Trusted him.Wantedto share their secrets with him and receive in turn his encouragement and counsel.
But Mabena wasn’t in need of any spiritual guidance, thank you very much. She just needed to know where Beth was. “Can we focus, Ollie? She’ll be back out any moment.”
“Certainly. You can begin by explaining why you don’t want your employer to know that we—”
“Because,” she said with exaggerated articulation, just to interrupt him, “it would raise more questions than I care to answer about what took me to her home in response to their advertisement about a position. Beth, if you recall, provided my recommendation.”
And why was the look he gave her bordering on sad? Or worse, disappointed? “Benna.”
“Don’t chide me. That’s a bed I made long ago, and I’m happy enough to lie in it. So play along, will you? Pretend I’m just another parishioner.”
He opened his mouth, but before he could argue—which was clearly what he intended—Libby appeared in her doorway, her arms full of scientific whatnot, giving Mabena the perfect excuse to rush forward. Away from Oliver Tremayne. “Oh, my lady! Let me help you with that before you drop something.”
Libby relinquished a basket full of papers she was juggling, though she kept the microscope firmly in hand. At least the grin she gave Mabena assured her that she hadn’t heard any of the furious whispering. “How was the visit to your parents, Mabena? You weren’t gone all that long.”
“I wanted to be back in time to help prepare dinner.” She smiled too, though it didn’t feel as effortless as Libby’s looked. “And there was much fussing, as anticipated.” A few too many tears in her mam’s eyes, too, and Tas had threatened not to allow her to leave again as he held her tight to his chest in an embrace as strong as a bear’s. She’d not struggled free either. Just closed her eyes and breathed him in—salt and sea and sawdust. For a moment, she’d actually entertained the notion of letting him convince her of coming home.Stayinghome. Going into his shop again to watch him craft the vessels that connected the islands. Helping Mam weave her silver and stones and the occasional gem into jewelry to sell to the tourists.
Running into Wearnes every time she turned a corner.
No, the memory of the hour she’d spent in Casek’s boat had been enough to remind her why she’d left to begin with.
“I came back with other holiday-goers staying here on St. Mary’s.”Notwith the obnoxious headmaster of the National School. She turned, aiming a smile at where Oliver still stood. “You know what would make the trip faster? If the locals would invest in a few of those motorboats to run the tourists around.”
Oliver snorted his opinion of that. “Right. And we should all bring automobiles over from the mainland too and string electricity.”
“My next suggestion.”
He shook his head. But any levity the idea brought faded as his gaze caught on the basket in her hands. He met them halfway into the sitting room and took it from her, reaching with a frown to pull out a book. Specifically, a well-worn Bible. Mabena couldn’t readily recall if it was Beth’s or not, but Oliver clearly recognized it. He set the basket onto the low table before the sofa and stood there, flipping through it.
Libby put her microscope and slides onto the table, which left Mabena with little to do other than examine the strange collection. Some of the items made perfect sense for Beth to have brought here—books, paper, clothes. But others made her frown. A small concretion. A ragged edge of parchment. From the basket, a piece of driftwood that looked like it came from a board rather than a branch.
Items Beth had collected over the years as she explored the islands. Of sentimental value, yes ... but why bring them here just for the summer?
Oliver set the Bible down, holding up in its place a piece of paper. Perhaps it had been tucked into the pages. He flipped it over to check the back, revealing the front to her.Oliver, written on it in Beth’s hand.
Mabena’s breath caught. A note? Would it have some explanation? Or was it just Beth pouring out her frustrations in something she’d decided not to give him? Or, perhaps more likely, one of the letters she was supposed to send him twice a week. Unfinished, maybe.
