The next day's scheduled picnic was postponed for a day when rain kept everyone indoors. We at Bywood Hall joined the house party at the pond for an afternoon of outdoor activity. Blankets were spread out in the grass for the ladies. A rowboat had been dragged from somewhere and rested on the bank, waiting to be used.

I tried to keep my eyes on everyone tied up in the problems that had occupied my life, but doing so only gave me a headache. Phoebe stayed as far from me as she could get, and played a game of letters with Rosamund. This, of course, did nothing to help our effort to appear like a courting couple. Miles remained near the picnic baskets, chatting with Mrs. Williamson. Philippa was content to talk with her betrothed on a blanket, becoming animated as she did so.

Though Miles wanted to rush to get an explanation from Lamotte and demand the ring from Rosamund, I managed to prevent him. Both actions would have brought trouble, and I managed to convince my friend it would be better to handle it carefully.

How we were going to do so, I had no idea.

I'd also told him my theory about the hole. The guilty expression on his face merely solidified my belief I was right. Was it cruel of me to burden him with that knowledge? Maybe, but I hoped it would serve as a lesson for the future.

By the pond, the Williamson girls began a game of Battledore and Shuttlecock, which had them laughing as soon as they started. Miss Darkin declined to join in, choosing instead to sketch in her book. Ward seemed bored with the whole situation, and the older members of the group were content to sit and chat about nothing in particular.

For a picnic, it was rather dull. No one seemed inclined to do anything remotely interesting. It was a pity, as I could recall many happy hours spent in that spot. My oldest sister, Jane, had taken every opportunity to explore the pond and the area around it. As I recalled, it was on a walk around the water that she agreed to marry Charles Castleton.

After an hour, I couldn't hide my yawn and Ward's expression betrayed that he was ready to find any excuse to take him away. The only thing keeping me at the site was the prospect of the meal. The Ramseys' cook made some of the best strawberry tarts and never failed to have them on hand for a picnic.

"Mr. Ward, we have heard precious little from you these past few days," Mrs. Ramsey said once we had all feasted on the meal provided and all other activities had slowed to nothing. "Surely you have some tale to entertain us this afternoon."

I was the only close enough to hear the growl that sounded from Ward's throat. But when he faced the rest of the picnic members, there was a friendly smile playing on his lips. "I am happy to comply, Mrs. Ramsey," he responded. "I fear, though, I have no new stories to amuse you with today."

"Well, then, you must tell everyone one of your old tales. The one about the highwayman is thrilling, and you tell it so well."

"Highwayman?" Rosamund repeated, sending a pointed look at me. "If Lucas is to be believed, there can be no harm from a highwayman."

As much as I wanted to argue the point, I settled for giving her smile instead. It was enough to turn her expression sour. "Tell us, Ward," Mr. Williamson said eagerly. "I don't think I've ever heard of you being held up by a highwayman."

"Oh, I wasn't," Ward said with a smirk. "This took place just over a year ago when I was invited to a house party similar to this one. The area, at the time, was being terrorized by a highwayman. All attempts to catch him or track him down were for naught. Many ladies, such as yourselves, lost their jewelry and men their money to this man."

He was a storyteller; there was no doubt about that. He had everyone leaning forward to hear what he would say next. Miss Darkin even closed her sketchbook to give him her full attention. I felt a twinge of jealousy at the fact.

"Tell them who it was, Ward!" Mrs. Ramsey said, her tone impatient. She glanced at everyone else. "You will not believe it when you hear it."

Ward shook his head. "Madame, allow me to tell this as it needs to be told. Fathers were forbidding their children, especially their daughters, from walking alone. This was the situation when I arrived. A groom had been injured when the occupants of a specific carriage refused to comply."

"Ward, you confirm what I told them all earlier this week," I said with a laugh. He directed a glare at me, unamused by my interruption to the tale he had been cajoled into telling. "Cooperation is the only way to go when a highwayman stops you on the road."

"Lucas, allow him to tell the story," George said sharply.

"He is correct," Ward said to my surprise and before I could express my anger at my brother's words. "The gentleman who put up a fuss was a fool to think he would win out against someone desperate to steal. He was incredibly fortunate in the identity of the highwayman; otherwise, he could have been harmed. Possibly killed."

His words cast a slight shadow across the group. "One of the families that joined the house party were robbed no more than a mile from their ultimate destination, and after that day, there was a lull in the reports of his activity," Ward continued. "Until one day, a young lady and her siblings were walking from their home to join us."

"What happened, Mr. Ward?" Mrs. Williamson asked.

"These young people crossed the place the highwayman had last been," Ward said, continuing as though he had not been interrupted. "The two young men thought they spotted some tracks in the mud, and being the curious persons they are, they set off to follow those tracks. The younger of the ladies was impatient and followed after the two brothers, being of a more intrepid spirit than her sister, leaving the other young lady alone."

By this point, even I was intrigued by his tale. "When her siblings returned to the spot a mere two minutes later, they discovered their sister had been hit over the head," Ward said, raising his voice. "The highwayman had been in the area and had felt threatened."

Rosamund gave an audible gasp. "How dreadful." She clutched my brother's arm as Philippa squeaked in alarm.

"Oh, she made a quick and full recovery, Mrs. Bywood. Have no fear. Naturally, this caused even more alarm in the neighborhood. However, it did not last forever. A young gentleman from the area couldn't bear to admit his debts to his father and had resorted to robbing his neighbors as the highwayman."

Exclamations rang out, and I frowned as I considered it. On the one hand, I could understand the feelings of the young man. I would have been reluctant to go to my own father had I incurred a great deal of debt from gambling but would I have resorted to robbing to avoid doing so?

"How did you come to know this all?" Mr. Talbot asked, raising his eyebrow. "I would hardly think this the kind of story a family wants to get out."

Ward shrugged his shoulders. "The young man was an acquaintance of mine. And Miss— the sister of the young lady attacked told me all when I pressed her for the information. I have, you noticed, kept quiet on the identity of these people."

"It is too bad of you even to tell it in the first place, Mr. Ward," Miss Darkin said, a note of righteous indignation in her voice. "Suppose the young man were to make a change in his behavior and come to regret his youthful actions? How will he feel if he returns to society only to hear everyone laughing about this story?"

"Olivia, none of us will go off and retell the story," Phoebe said. "It is meant to entertain."

When I glanced at Miles, I saw a strange, thoughtful look on his face and wondered what had caught his interest. "Well, I didn't mean to stir up a debate," Mrs. Ramsey said in agitation. "I thought it an amusing tale, no more."

"Lucas, you ought to take Phoebe out onto the pond," Rosamund said, getting my attention. "And we will speak no more on this subject."

"Well—" I struggled to find some valid excuse not to be trapped in a small boat with her. If she intended on doing her best to avoid me, I would do so in return. I knew she wasn't fond of the water from all the times I had pushed her into the pond in retaliation for many things she had done to me first. "I don't think Phoebe enjoys—"

At the same time, Mrs. Ramsey said, "What a marvelous idea, Mrs. Bywood! You are an absolute genius. Phoebe, darling, would you like to go out in the rowboat?"

"Oh, of course," Phoebe said promptly. She glanced at me and realized I had been the one chosen to row the boat. "Olivia and I had talked yesterday about how much we wished to go out on the water. Olivia put down your sketchbook and come along."

"Phoebe, my dear, Lucas will take you, and then I am sure Mr. Russell can take Miss Darkin afterward," Rosamund said, her tone a persuading. "It is just the thing."

She was intent on arranging Miles and Miss Darkin as a match. Of everything she did that annoyed me, this particular thing got to me the most. "No, I know Lucas hates to be on the water," Phoebe said cheerfully. I blinked at her surprise. I didn't like the water? Since when? "Mr. Russell can take Olivia and me together. There is plenty of room."

Miss Darkin appeared startled, her eyebrows going up, but she set aside her book. She got to her feet and allowed herself to be pulled to the rowboat. Miles followed them, a delighted expression replacing the calculating one. I caught Rosamund and George frowning in my direction, no doubt unhappy with my failure to persuade Phoebe I would take her out of the boat.

George apparently had forgotten the last time I had done so; she had pushed me overboard because I tossed her doll into the water. I had been twelve, and I hadn't even wanted to be in the same boat with her.

"Even if you hadn't told me your engagement was arranged, I would have guessed something was not quite right between you and Miss Ramsey," Ward said quietly when he moved to stand next to me. "You and she have to be the most ill-matched couple I've ever seen. I wish you great happiness in the future, Bywood, and hope you find a good mistress to liven up your days."

I leveled an unamused look in his direction, annoyed by the suggestion. It was generally accepted among those accustomed to Town standards that a man would have a mistress, especially if he were married. All that was expected was he be discreet about it, and his wife would turn a blind eye to the situation.

However, I had every expectation I would find a wife I would want to be faithful to. Maybe that was a naive hope.

"Or perhaps you should find a way to get out of the engagement," Ward said. "You already have the reputation of being unreliable. Use it to your advantage."

"That is a reputation I protest." That I already had a plan to break the engagement had nothing to do with it. "You may think how one is spoken of is of no consequence, but I do. I have done nothing to warrant these tales being told of me and I tire of hearing them."

A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Sadly, now you have this reputation, there is nothing you can do to fight it off. My advice would be to embrace it and stop caring about what others think of you."

Opening my mouth to object, I was interrupted by the sound of a loud splash, a simultaneous panicked cry from the pond. Twisting my head around, I spotted the rowboat, bottom side up and no sign of the occupants. Phoebe and my friend surfaced a moment later, Miles supporting the coughing and struggling girl.

"Good God!" Mr. Ramsey said as I scrambled to my feet. "Phoebe!"

Tearing off my jacket and waistcoat, I made quick work of untying my cravat and then bolted for the edge of the pond. I dove in and swam towards the overturned boat, where Miss Darkin had come up and clung to the boat. I passed Phoebe and Miles, who were not working well together.

"Just relax, Miss Darkin," I said as I reached the boat. I put my arm around her waist. "I have you now."

"Indeed," she said in a breathless voice. She pushed the sagging brim of her hat away from her face, giving me a better view of her sparkling blue eyes. "You are prompt to rescue a lady, I see."

I pulled her to the safety of shore. Mr. Ward was up to his knees in the water. The ladies were ready with blankets, so I didn't have the opportunity to admire the sight of Miss Darkin in a wet, clinging dress. As I regained my breath, I told myself I was a gentleman and needed to focus on something more appropriate.

As Phoebe sobbed in her mother's arms, Mr. Ward asked Miss Darkin how the accident had occurred. She sent a sideways look at Phoebe but shook her head. "I am not sure. One minute all was well and the next we were in the water."

The accident brought the picnic to an end. As Phoebe and Miss Darkin were hurried to the carriages, Rosamund frowned at me. "I do hope neither of you expects to return with us. You're soaking wet and will quite ruin the fabric in the carriage."

"Not to worry, dear Rosamund," I said with a sigh. "Miles and I will walk."

A fitting end to an unenjoyable afternoon.