Page 40 of The Nature of a Lady
Libby had never gone to the horse races, never cared much for the football matches Bram attended now and then. She’d never honestly been much interested in any sport. But there was something interesting here that she’d never accounted for when thinking of a game or competition—something that had nothing to do with the sport itself and everything to do with the community cheering it on. By simply joining in, bouncing on her toes in time with Mamm-wynn and lifting her voice along with Mabena, she became part of something.
It was a lovely feeling.
And it grew all the lovelier when Oliver Tremayne’s team glidedin a second before the other, the five men whooping their victory and jumping out into the surf with arms pumping the air and slaps on each other’s backs. Oliver himself at the center of them all.
He was an odd sort of alpha. She couldn’t help but watch the interplay with fascination. He wasn’t the largest, probably wasn’t the strongest—though he was clearly quite fit. If he was the dominant male in his group, it wasn’t from his physical stature. No, it must rather be because of the way he laughed with the men, spoke to them, directed them with a hand on a shoulder or a gesture to the right or left.
Casek Wearne, on the other hand, must have won his place as captain of his gig from sheer muscle power. While his men laughed off their loss and joked easily with the winning team, he was glowering about it. At least until he glanced toward the shore. Something in their general vicinity must have caught his attention, because he straightened, and his face brightened.
“Benna, my lady—will you two take these to the winners?” Mrs. Gillis was shoving steaming mugs at them even as she asked it.
Libby took two, and Mabena somehow balanced three with total ease, though Mamm-wynn plucked one away from her. “I’ll help too.”
Mrs. Gillis had already turned to press a few others into delivering sustenance to the Wearne team, so Libby didn’t bother replying, just struck out through the sand. The men saw them coming and met them a few feet away from the gig.
She couldn’t even have said who took the mugs from her. She was too busy watching the care with which Oliver accepted the one from his grandmother’s outstretched hands, the warm smile he gave his matriarch.
“Mamm-wynn. What are you doing down here?”
“Libby was cold. I had to bring her a shawl.” She stated it simply.
But when his gaze shifted to her in a way that made her think—probably foolishly—that he’d been waiting for an excuse to do so, it didn’t feel so simple. Libby trailed her fingers down the edges of said shawl. “She was my hero this morning.”
His smile was certainly warmer than the sunshine just beginning to burn away the mist. “And how have you enjoyed your first gig race, my lady?”
She found herself grinning back. “I think I need to convince Moon that our weekly garden visits always need to happen on Tuesdays, so we can be here Wednesday mornings.”
“Oh yes, you don’t want to miss any of them. Our Ollie can’t win them all, but they’re always such fun.” Mrs. Tremayne turned, then, to answer the greeting of one of Oliver’s teammates.
Oliver shifted a bit closer to Libby’s side. “Are you staying the day or ...?”
“We’ll be leaving midmorning. We want to get back before the storm.”
He shot a pointed look at the blue sky, brows raised.
Libby grinned. “Mr. Moon’s big toe insists an afternoon squall will be coming.”
“Ah. Well, no one argues with Jeremiah Moon’s toe, to be sure.” He’d taken his knit cap off at some point and now raked a hand through his damp hair. “Mr. Gale and I have solidified our plans for me to fill in at St. Mary’s the Virgin this Sunday, so I’ll be coming over on Saturday. I thought ... that is, I know you said yesterday that no one else has mistaken you for Beth. But I thought I’d drop by when I get there. To make sure it’s still the case. If that’s all right.”
“Oh yes. Please do.” She bit her lip to keep any other assurances from spilling out. She could just imagine Mama across from her, waving a hand and telling her without words that she sounded far too eager. But ... “We can show you the remaining things we found in the cottage, and you can let us know if they’re Beth’s—books, mostly. We weren’t certain, so we didn’t bring them.”
“That will be lovely. Mrs. Polmer promised me a batch of sticky buns from the bakery that morning. I’ll bring them with me.”
“I could hardly turn that down. Moon brought two home the other day, and they deserve to have songs written about them.” She smiled at his laughter, then bit her lip again. It had been on the tip of hertongue to invite him to return to their cottage for dinner Saturday night. But he’d probably already been claimed by a parishioner.
Andshehad been claimed by the Wights. Which was enough to eclipse the happy glow in her chest and replace it with dread. She didn’t want to break out one of her evening gowns, have Mabena dress her hair, and spend the evening trying to remember the right thing to say to a viscount and his rich cousin. She wanted to lounge about in her braid and her cotton and talk about unfinished fairy tales and the slides she’d made for her microscopes and listen to his stories about whatever mischief Mamm-wynn or Tas-gwyn Gibson would have found by then.
“You’d better come with me, Mrs. Tremayne.” Mrs. Gillis had appeared while Libby was trying not to say anything more. She flashed them each a smile and held out a hand toward the grandmother. “Mrs. Dawe said she needs to get the bread in the oven.”
The lady turned placidly around, still chuckling over whatever Enyon had said to her, and put her hand in Mrs. Gillis’s. “My toesarea bit cold.” Though rather than walking immediately away, she instead held Mrs. Gillis there, facing Libby and Oliver, and gave a contented little smile. “Aren’t you glad our Ollie finally found someone? And don’t they make a handsome pair?”
Now Libby had to bite her lip to keep the laughter from spilling out at the way Oliver Tremayne’s eyes yet again went wide with panic. “Mamm-wynn! We’re not—Mrs. Gillis, she’s—”
But Mrs. Gillis chuckled and winked at them. “I know, lad.” Though to Mamm-wynn she added, “Aye, they certainly do strike a fine pair. I always did like seeing the dark and the fair together like that. Though as I’ve said many a time, Mr. Tremayne, you could do with a visit to my brother.” She made a snipping motion with her hand, aimed at his hair. “Don’t you agree, my lady?”
Her opinion, she suspected, was solicited solely to pressure him to the barber. But Libby shrugged and grinned up at him. “I rather like it long.”
Mrs. Gillis tossed her free hand into the air and nudged Mrs. Tremayne forward. “Now he’llnevercut it.”
