Later that night, once Philippa had retired, Davison shook his head over the scene. "This is unexpected," he commented. "I never would have expected them to try and break in again."

"I don't know whether to be glad I asked you to secure the window or not," I responded, leaning against the fireplace mantel. "If you hadn't, maybe I would have an intact window. Why would they try to get in here again?"

"Perhaps he felt he had been interrupted earlier and wanted to complete the search," Davison suggested. "I will have Mr. Walton board over the window until he can get the glass replaced."

Yet another unexpected cost. Could nothing go smoothly in this house? Taking a deep breath, I pushed the negative thought away. Things had been going well lately, so it was almost inevitable that something bad would occur.

"Did the magistrate offer any suggestions on how to proceed?" My valet asked, turning to me.

"He suggested I play into the situation and make a show of searching for it myself," I explained in a low voice. I didn't want the rest of the staff to know it was a pretense. "He believes that if I pretend to find something, it will draw out the trespasser."

"That only works if the trespasser believes the story," Davison remarked. "You were vocal about what you thought of the idea. Might it not be seen as suspicious that you suddenly changed your mind?"

Shrugging, I straightened up. "I'll just put the blame on Philippa. She is stubbornly persistent, and I gave in to get some peace."

"A family trait, I take it?" Davison asked, his tone completely serious.

"Indeed. Nevertheless, regardless of what my sister tries to tell you, I do not give her permission to tear out the shelves or anything else in the house in her search. Do not believe her if she tries to tell you otherwise."

Davison's gaze flicked to the wall. "It is a clever suggestion."

"No," I said firmly. "No destruction. You are as bad as she is!"

"No destruction," the other man repeated, nodding sagely. "I will keep it in mind, Master Lucas. Am I to assume we are keeping the true nature of the search to ourselves?"

Even though I despised the thought of deceiving others, I nodded in agreement. The fewer who knew the truth, the fewer chances there would be of someone accidentally spilling the truth.

"And stop calling me Master Lucas," I told him. "It makes me feel like I'm in short pants."

"Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?"

"No. Just ensure the house is closed up tonight."

"Of course," Davison said, his expression becoming offended. "I have never forgotten that important part of my responsibilities."

"I know, but a reminder never hurts." If he started getting offended with everything I said, I'd saddle Phaeton and ride away.

~*~

For the second night in a row, I was unable to sleep. It almost felt too risky to even try. Was there some other way into the house? Would those responsible try again when the lights were out and all was quiet?

Why had the intruder resorted to breaking the window? He must have known we would hear it. Had he been angered by the window being secure?

I groaned as I forced myself out of bed shortly after dawn, my head pounding. This was all too similar to late nights in London. How could people do this on a regular basis and enjoy it?

Once I'd gone through my morning ablutions, I made my way down to the kitchen. Mrs. Wallace was already busy cooking at the stove. "Good morning, Mr. Bywood," she greeted. Her expression became sympathetic. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes, please," I said, not even trying to rein in my need for the restorative drink. I could smell it in the air. "I wish I could say that I slept well, but after what happened the previous couple of nights, it was impossible."

Nodding seriously, Mrs. Wallace poured a cup of steaming coffee and handed it to me. "It is a concern," she responded. "But knowing you, Mr. Warren, and Mr. Davison, I'm confident that you are doing all that is possible."

"I hope it is enough, but after last night, I'm afraid it's not." I inhaled the scent of the coffee before sipping it. I was going to need every drop to get through the day. "I hope the maids are not too frightened by it all?"

"I'm afraid a strong gust of wind would frighten Molly," Mrs. Wallace said with a sigh. "She knows what's happened but I don't know what she's thinking beyond that. Lizzie, on the other hand, is more irritated than afraid. She's the one who has dusted the library the most, so she's understandably livid that her efforts were for naught."

The thought of the twelve-year-old girl being angry made me chuckle. "Perhaps I ought to set her as a guard instead."

A small smile appeared on Mrs. Wallace's face, but she shook her head in a gentle manner. "I'd rather not encourage that."

"Since you've been down here, have you come across anything unusual or out of the ordinary?" I asked.

The woman raised an eyebrow, and tipped a lump of bread dough out of a bowl. She proceeded to work it with her hands, kneading it until it was smooth. "Nothing comes to mind. You think something is hidden in the kitchen?"

"Honestly? I don't think there is anything of any importance hidden in this house or on this property," I said honestly before I remembered my decision to keep this bit of truth to myself. I shook my head. "But my sister insists that there must be some truth to the story."

"Girls her age are fascinated with romantic tales."

Hidden treasure was considered romantic now? At best I would have thought it was an adventure. Shaking my head, I drained my coffee cup. "I wish she would focus on her own romance," I muttered, not expecting Mrs. Wallace to hear.

"Heartbreak is its own kind of romance," she commented. She smiled at what must have been my look of pure confusion. "Every girl can get engaged, you know. But if she can be crossed in love, she gets to stand out."

"Philippa can't want to be in the situation she is in!"

"The poor thing is probably confused about what she wants," Mrs. Wallace said, her tone sympathetic. "An argument when you are in throes of love can feel like a horrible betrayal."

Eyeing her, I wondered just how much she knew about Philippa's situation. My sister and I had not exactly been discreet with our arguments. "Do you have any suggestions on how to make her see reason?"

"That is a difficult thing to do," Mrs. Wallace responded. "There's a fine line when it comes to dealing with people, especially siblings. It's important not to let her dwell on her misfortune, but pushing her too hard to resolve it may only make her more stubborn."

Wasn't that the truth!

"I wish our parents were here," I said with a sigh. I poured myself a second cup of coffee. "Mama always knows how to handle my sisters and what to say to them. I'm just her brother. She won't listen to me."

"You wrote to them, didn't you? I don't expect you can do any more than that. They'll come to fetch her as soon as they can."

It wouldn't happen soon enough for my taste. And who knew what Philippa would do once Father arrived. Would she continue to be stubborn? Refuse to discuss what had happened? I couldn't imagine my father letting that kind of behavior slide without addressing it

"While I'm here, I want to discuss the prospect of a picnic," I said, changing the subject.

Mrs. Wallace's hands paused. "A picnic?" she repeated warily.

"Yes. I'm not sure what kinds of things need to go into a picnic. My mother and sisters have always made the arrangements and planned the details," I admitted. "Would it be difficult to organize?"

"It really depends on what kind of picnic it is going to be, and what kind of food you expect," she said without losing the wary expression. "I didn't think you were planning on entertaining, Mr. Bywood."

Gritting my teeth, I wished the magistrate had thought of some other plan. If only I hadn't been so adamant about not believing the treasure existed! It would have made this so much easier.

"A picnic would be less complicated and less stressful compared to a dinner party, correct? My sister has set her heart on having some kind of entertainment," I said. That, at least, was true. ""I thought maybe it would provide a distraction from everything else that's going on in her personal life."

Mrs. Wallace raised an eyebrow. "I've heard tales of picnics being elaborate things," she answered. "But if you keep the food and drink simple, I suppose it could be done."

"How soon can it be done?"

She dusted off her hands and then put them on her hips. "Again, that depends on the kind of refreshments you want served and how many guests you plan to invite. Are you planning to have a picnic?"

There was no mistaking the annoyance that had crept into her tone. She had already dealt with surprise visitors and a last-minute dinner party. The party may have been small, but it had been unplanned and stretched the budget.

"Maybe. It would be small, since I haven't met the neighbors, but I would invite the Campbells and Mr. Ward," I said, wishing I'd made a specific list with Ward the day before. "And of course, the magistrate and his family should be on there as well. I suppose I'll have a list by the end of the day."

"I see. When are you planning to have these guests?"

Again, I had no idea how long it took to plan these kinds of things. Part of me wanted to get it over with quickly, but at the same time, I didn't want to overwhelm my staff with an impossible workload.

The door of the kitchen swung open and Molly stepped in. Her eyes widened and her smile faded. "Mr. Bywood," she said, bobbing a shaky curtsy. She twisted her hands in her apron.

"Good morning, Molly," I greeted before focusing back on Mrs. Wallace "Would it be possible to arrange something in a few days? I'll have the details for you later today, Mrs. Wallace, but if you could organize a simple menu of treats and things like that, I would appreciate it. "

"Yes, sir," she said, the corners of her mouth turning down. "I'll see what I can do."

As I left the kitchen, a sense of guilt gnawed at me. While Sir George's plan seemed the most likely way to put an end to this tangled mess, it was an inconvenient one for me. I suppose I should be willing to do anything to put a stop to the intruders, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it might not be worth the trouble in the end

~*~

Later that morning, Mrs. Campbell replied to my message with an understanding one of her own. She assured me that while they were disappointed I was unable to join them, they would be delighted to have Philippa to dinner and would send their carriage for her. She ended with the hope that they would meet me soon.

Satisfied that one crisis had been averted, I made my morning ride. As I was crossing a pasture that had gone fallow, I spotted a solitary figure walking along the tree line.

"Good morning to you!" I called out, curious to know which neighbor it could be.

Instead of lifting a hand in greeting or calling back, the figure bolted for the trees. In a moment, the brown clad person had vanished from sight. Reining Phaeton to a halt, I stared in that direction.

What was that about?

Had it been a farmer taking a short cut? If so, why did they run away as if they were afraid of getting caught? That made no sense. Did I have a reputation in the neighborhood for being unkind?

Or had it been the intruder, making a search of my land?

I gave into my first impulse and rode in the direction of the trees. I kept Phaeton at a slow pace, studying the ground as I went along. A pasture seemed an odd location to think someone would hide a treasure, but I didn't want to take any chances.

There were no holes. Or, at least, none that I could see. By the time I reached the tree line, I knew there was little chance of seeing who the person had been. Still, I made a thorough examination of the trees.

Storms and winds over the years had twisted many of them, and at some point, I would have to bring them down before they took out the fence.

However, that was a problem to tackle another time. I had enough on my hands already. I rode around the perimeter of the pasture, keeping an eye out for anyone else on the property who wasn't supposed to be there. That made the ride less restful than I was hoping it would be.

"Mr. Bywood! Mr. Bywood!"

The young voice caught my attention immediately, but it took a few seconds for me to place who it belonged to. It wasn't until I saw the boy's face as he scaled the fence that I was certain. "Master Jack Little," I greeted, bringing Phaeton to a halt. "What are you doing out here?"

The eight-year-old boy grinned, showing off a gap in his teeth where he'd recently lost a tooth. "I'm searching for treasure. Ma said you said we could search."

I opened my mouth, intending to argue that I'd only meant he was to look around their farm, but I stopped myself. It was only natural for a young boy to jump at the opportunity to search for treasure. I would have done the same when I was his age.

"Are you enjoying the search?" I asked.

"I found something," Young Jack announced with pride.

Astonished, I stared at him. "You did? When?"

"This morning." Jack teetered on the top rung of the fence. "I haven't even told Ma and Pa. Do you want to see?"

"Be careful," I warned. If he fell and hurt himself, I wouldn't be surprised if his mother didn't forgive me for it. "And, yes. I want to see what you found. Where did you find it?"

Jack jumped to the ground with the ease and carelessness of a child. "This way," he said, waving his hand.

Dismounting, I tied the reins to the fence and then climbed over. Jack was bouncing impatiently. "Follow me!" he urged. "It's not far."

I had a feeling I knew where he was going to take me. There was an old barn nearby, not belonging to any particular farm. According to records, there used to be a cottage on the property, but it had been destroyed by fire many years ago.

The perfect place to hide something?

The boy wove his way through the grass towards the crumbling structure.

"Slow down," I said. I'd glanced over the barn once with Mr. Walton and we had agreed that there was no use trying to salvage it. The damage from years of neglect was beyond repair, and nature had already started reclaiming it. "I don't think your mother would be happy if she knew you were here."

"Come on," Jack insisted, ignoring me. He charged through the open doorway without hesitation. "You have to see this."

For the first time, I felt a stab of curiosity. Could he have actually discovered something? I had written it off as a fairytale and nothing would come of it.

Treading carefully, I followed Jack into the barn. The stench of decaying wood and decomposing manure filled the air. I couldn't fathom how the boy had managed to thoroughly search the building when the smell was so overwhelming.

He darted into what was once a stable stall. I let out an exasperated sigh as I carefully maneuvered around a pile of dirt and animal waste to catch up to him. Jack crouched on the ground next to a hole.

"Well, what have you found?" I asked, crouching down. I balanced on the balls of my feet to keep from getting muck on my trousers. Davison would disapprove if I returned muddy.

"Look," Jack said, reaching into the hole.

Leaning forward, I saw his fingers scratch against something solid. There was something under there. Giving up on my attempt to remain out of the dirt, I went down on my knee.

"Why did you choose to dig in this spot?" I asked, putting my fingers in the dirt. "Did you bring a shovel with you?"

"No." Jack produced a stick. "I didn't think Pa would let me have it, so I found a stick. I saw the footprints in the dirt, so I thought I should see what was here."

Pausing, I glanced over my shoulder. I could see where I had walked in the dirt. If there had been other footprints, they had been trampled beyond recognition now. "You saw footprints? Fresh footprints? Like someone had just been here?"

"I suppose." Jack kept digging with his stick. "Someone was digging around in here, so it wasn't very hard for me. It seemed like a strange place to hide something. Then, I heard you, so I decided that you ought to know what I found."

"It might be nothing," I warned.

The boy glanced up with an expression that said he knew better. "Someone wouldn't dig in this place for no reason," he argued.

"Right." The boy wouldn't understand my concern. All he thought was that he was in search of treasure, and he clearly had found something in the stable. I just was worried that it wasn't a treasure, but something more dangerous.