Before I could think of a plan to reunite two lovers, I needed to determine where Talbot would stay for a few nights. Obviously, he couldn't stay in Pearsend. There was an inn of sorts in the small village ten miles to the south, but it had a questionable reputation. I couldn't in good conscience send him there.

There was only one option that would be a reasonable solution. John Ward owed

me a favor. Well, at this point I wasn't sure on that point, but I was sure he wouldn't mind if Talbot stayed on his property. In any event, this would mean I would owe Ward a favor, and he was the sort to value a favor. Hopefully, a reconciliation could happen quickly, and Talbot would not be in the neighborhood too long.

Given that Philippa was showing the stubborn streak that prevailed in the Bywood family, I knew it would be a challenge to get her to reconcile with Talbot. It was difficult to tell just how long it would take to salvage her relationship. Perhaps it would be best to keep the matter as vague as possible.

As I scribbled my note, Talbot fidgeted next to me. Ward was still in Brighton, but fortunately, I was acquainted with his housekeeper who would never turn away a guest. Besides, Ward's daughter would be delighted to have someone new to meet.

Still looking uncertain, Talbot went off with my note in hand. He'd reluctantly agreed to return for dinner. That ought to be enough time for me to work out what we could do to put this matter behind us.

But I could only make a plan if I learned my sister's side of the story. Clearly, Talbot didn't know exactly what words he'd used that had offended her. Perhaps he had been exceedingly harsh and I wouldn't want to help him win my sister's forgiveness.

That didn't seem likely, but given that I hadn't expected a break between them in the first place, I was willing to keep my mind open to any new detail.

"Philippa!" I called as I went to the library.

Strange. There was a stack of books on the corner of my desk that I hadn't placed there. I honestly hadn't believed Philippa would search for a book to read when I had invited her to do so. She was never one for much reading as far as I could remember.

Before I could pick up one and see what had interested her enough to take the book down, the sound of laughter drew my focus away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. When I turned, my eyes landed on an open window behind the desk. It didn't seem overly warm, but Philippa must have thought otherwise if she opened the window.

In the gardens outside, I spotted my sister chasing the two younger daughters of Mrs. Wallace. The three of them were full of laughter as they raced along the pathways that had been meticulously groomed by Mr. Fenton. There was no sign of the older man, who would surely disapprove of his domain being invaded.

Before I took my leave of the room, I reached up to close the window. It was surprisingly quiet for such a heavy object. "Philippa is stronger than I thought," I muttered as I pulled it down into place.

As I made my way to the side door, no one crossed my path to give me any more bad news. When I stepped outside, I found that, while it was cloudy, the day was a fine one. A gentle breeze blew through and the sky showed no signs of rain.

"Mr. Lucas! Mr. Lucas!" I was startled when I heard a small voice calling my name. Five-year-old Susan came running up to me, her tiny hands clutching onto a bouquet of white flowers. "Aren't they pretty? Miss Philippa said we could put them in a glass of water inside and Mama would be happy to see them all the time."

"Miss Philippa is absolutely right. Your mama will be very pleased with them," I told her, holding back the reminder that Mr. Fenton might not be as pleased with the removal of his hard work. The damage had been done already and I would appease the gardener. Somehow. "Why don't you take them to her now?"

With a huge smile on her face, the young girl sprinted towards the house. Seven-year-old Katherine came running past me to catch up to her sister. "Susan! Where are you going? Wait for me!" she screeched. "I picked them for Mama too! Not just you! You can't take all the credit!"

Ah. The older sibling who was responsible for the younger. How glad I was that I'd never been in that position. The closest comparison I could think of was when I had been told to keep Phoebe Ramsey out of harm's way when we had picnics together.

A task I'd failed miserably at because I hadn't tried at all.

"Do you know where those two sweet little girls went?" Philippa asked as she walked towards me. Her hair was coming loose from the pins that had been holding it back. She looked like a hoyden and immensely happy. "We were having such fun and it seems a shame to let a fine day like this go to waste."

"I sent them in to give their mother the flowers you said they could pick."

To her credit, Philippa blushed. "I couldn't say no to them. They were looking up at me with such big eyes, and I knew their mother would appreciate the gesture. Remember when we used to bring flowers to Mama? She loved them so much."

"What I remember is having Greeves chase after us every spring because we pulled the blossoms he'd been working so hard to cultivate. We destroyed his hard work without a thought for how he might feel about it. He may have intended those flowers for some purpose."

"Oh, Greeves was only pretending to be angry. He's nothing but a sweetheart once you get to know him. I think he would let me pull every plant in the garden if I asked him."

"The point is that you would ask now and Greeves would have the opportunity to give his permission because you asked," I responded, turning to glance around the garden area. Thankfully, it didn't look like there was too much damage. "I don't know that 'sweetheart' is a word that can be applied to Felton. He's had to work hard to get the gardens to look this nice. So maybe don't pilfer the flowers before we all can enjoy them?"

Philippa's expression soured into a scowl. "Oh, fine. The next time they ask, I will tell them they are not allowed to give their mother anything nice."

That wasn't what I meant, and she knew it as well as I did. "You've been in a terrible mood ever since you arrived, Philly," I commented, moving the conversation to the subject I wanted to discuss. "Why don't you tell me what Bartholomew Talbot said to you that put you in such an ill-temper?"

Her narrowed gaze fixed on me. "What do you mean?" she asked in a chilly tone of voice. "Mr. Talbot has said a great many things to me since we have been acquainted."

Though my sister was doing her best to be haughty, I could see tears shimmering in her eyes. I should have known this conversation would lead to tears! Awkwardly, I moved to stand beside her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders in an attempt to provide comfort.

"There's no reason to pretend everything is well if it is not," I told her. "I've spoken to your Mr. Talbot, and heard his side of the story. Now I want to hear your thoughts on the matter. Why are you so upset about this disagreement? This can't have been the first time you have quarreled."

"Why should I even bother? You'll only take his side. That's what gentlemen always do. It doesn't matter what the lady says, if the men are in agreement that is all that matters." Her voice shook as she tried to sound angry. "I have no wish to waste my breath."

Taking a step forward, I tried to guide her towards the stone bench that had been uncovered among the weeds. "Perhaps it would be more comfortable for you to sit," I suggested.

Philippa dug her heels into the ground and refused to budge. "I don't wish to sit."

"Philly, I wouldn't have bothered asking for your side of the story if I didn't intend to listen," I told her, giving up the matter. So, leaving her to stand, I sat down. "Now. I know you had dinner with the Larkins and they had their granddaughter visiting. So tell me about the evening. What happened?"

With a huff, Philippa started pacing back and forth in front of me. "Everything was going well," she said without looking at me. "We were all enjoying our meal and everyone was having a good time. Miss Everard told me about her younger siblings and the mischief they get into at their home."

It was exhausting to watch her. Where did she find the energy to be angry and march back and forth with so much vigor? Why wouldn't she sit down and discuss the matter like an adult?

"We were laughing most of the time," she continued, her tone taking on a defensive note. "There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It is good to laugh and have fun. It's the mark of a good evening."

"I wasn't there to observe but in general, I believe it is considered good to enjoy yourself when it is not at the expense of another person." Remembering Talbot's description, I added, "And it is good manners not to overshadow the entire table's conversation by being too boisterous."

Philippa scoffed. "Well, as you said, you weren't there. No one minded that we were laughing. Mrs. Larkin joined in most of the time. If the hostess does not disapprove, no one else is in a position to do so."

I bit my tongue to keep from commenting about Mrs. Larkin. She was a kind woman and dedicated to her family. At the same time, though, she was inclined to be silly. Everyone knew not to take her too seriously.

"Father didn't even scold me for how I was behaving," Philippa continued, "and you know what a stickler he can be. So I can't have been behaving too awful."

"If your Mr. Talbot brought it up, he must have minded or at least noticed that you were louder than usual," I couldn't resist pointing out. "Do you disregard his opinion in general?"

"Stop calling him my Mr. Talbot!" Philippa snapped. "After this, he is nothing to me."

The intensity of her anger was unmistakable in the way she spoke and looked at me. I quickly lifted my hands in surrender, trying to diffuse the situation. "Alright, alright. He doesn't mean anything to you now. But I am curious about what he said to you that evening that made you so angry with him."

"Oh, he started off with an order that I should mind my surroundings and learn to moderate my tone," she said, waving her hand. "Who does he think he is, dictating what I can and cannot do? It was-"

"No. I'm going to stop you right there," I interrupted. "You are rushing through an entire conversation. What did he say? Exactly. What words did he use?"

She shook her head. "He said he was surprised at how loud I was with Miss Everard," she answered. "Loud? We were simply laughing! One cannot properly laugh if you're trying to keep quiet."

I really wanted to reason with her, but she was in no mood for that. "You didn't like what he said."

"Of course I didn't. It was unnecessary and rude. What kind of gentleman comments on what a lady enjoys? How dare he stand in judgement of me when I did not ask for his opinion?"

"Was he judging you? Or is he the gentleman who loves you and wants you to be the best person you can be?" I couldn't resist asking.

Her jaw dropped and she stared at me. Then she spun away. "Oh, what would you know? I said you would take his side and you are."

"I haven't taken anyone's side. As to what I know...well, I can concede that I don't know anything. I'm only your brother, after all." The last statement was supposed to be a joke, but Philippa didn't laugh.

"When I told him I had done nothing wrong, he had the gall to get angry with me. He said I had been immature and embarrassed the family with my behavior. Who is he to say something like that?"

"He is the man you agreed to marry," I remarked. It seemed strange that this was the first time Talbot had noticed my sister's high spirits. Had he ignored them before or had he assumed she would calm down in time? It just went to show that making assumptions about other people would only lead you astray.

Scowling, Philippa began pacing again. "Well, not anymore. This has completely changed the way I see him. I pity the woman he marries in the future! He is no gentleman."

It was hard to imagine that she really believed that. Why was she so quick to assume the worst about Talbot? There had to have been something that appealed to her if she had agreed to marry him in the first place.

"So. Pistols at dawn then," I said with a heavy sigh. If Philippa wanted to jump to extremes, I was more than ready to do the same. "I will have Davison find me a pair. Someone in the county must have a set that they would be willing to loan me."

That brought her to a halt. "What?" she asked, a frown furrowing her brow.

"If you believe this man has acted so boorishly that he can no longer be considered a gentleman, then challenging him is what a brother should do, isn't it?" I asked, widening my eyes for dramatic effect. "I only know the rudiments of swordplay and Talbot didn't seem like the type to have taken lessons at all. So pistols it is."

Philippa's eyes were fixed on me, her expression one of shock. "You can't do that!" she exclaimed, her voice rising. "Dueling is illegal! You could get yourself killed or worse! You could get arrested!"

Strange that she considered arrest somehow worse than death. "Don't worry. I'm considered competent enough with a pistol," I assured her. "And Phaeton is the fastest horse in the neighborhood. I won't get caught by the authorities. How would they find out, anyway?"

"What about Mr. Talbot?" she demanded at an almost screech. "You cannot murder him!"

"Oh, I wouldn't kill him," I told her. Her jaw dropped again as I spoke. "I would just give him a wound to remind him that a lady doesn't like to be reminded of propriety and manners. He'll be fine after some time recovering. And he will always have a scar to remind him of what he did to offend you."

Actually, that statement was far from the truth. Any gunshot wound, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, must always be treated as serious. Even a slight graze could develop into a dangerous injury if a person wasn't careful.

"You cannot be serious!" Philippa said, still screeching. "Lucas! Have you taken leave of your senses? You cannot have a duel. You'll ruin everything!"

"But didn't you just say that he had offended you? You also accused me of not taking your side, so here I am. Taking your side as you wanted."

"Well. Yes. He did offend me, but—."

"You have been complaining that I am a terrible brother to you," I continued, cutting off her protest. "Clearly, the only way to resolve both issues is for me to challenge Talbot to a duel. Immediately after dinner tonight, I will do so."

"You will not!"

It took all my self-control not to laugh. If she thought I was being serious, then she didn't know me at all. Duels were ridiculous things. Miles had tried to challenge me to one in the spring and I hadn't let him do so. In fact, I didn't think there was anything I felt strongly enough about that I would duel another person to defend it.

Clearly she still had some lingering emotions for Talbot if she was concerned about him getting hurt. Now. How could I use this to my advantage?

"Very well. I will not challenge him to a duel, but I must say you are confusing me, Philly," I informed her. "First, he has offended you so badly you cannot marry him, but now you say it is not as bad as that. Which one is it?"

"He did offend me, but I will not let you get yourself killed over it," Philippa said, crossing her arms. "What kind of sister do you think I am? I will just never see him again and it can all be forgotten. That is the respectable way to handle when someone offends you."

"Hmm. Interesting. I thought the respectful course of action would be to resolve the situation like an adult. Talk the matter out. Try to see things from his point of view and then explain your side. That is what Mama always told us to do when we had an argument."

Philippa tore her gloves from her hands and threw them at me. "I never want to speak to that man again! The very idea offends me!"

Well, that was going to make things difficult. "I hope you are prepared to have dinner in your room this evening, then," I remarked dryly.

Midway through her pacing, Philippa stopped abruptly and turned to face me. "What? Why? Lucas, you are making no sense this morning!"

"If I am not to duel Talbot for offending you, then I have no reason to ignore him. He will be in the neighborhood for some time, and I have invited him for dinner tonight. It is the polite thing to do when friends are in the neighborhood. Mama would expect it, you know."

Philippa shrieked. "Lucas! You didn't!" Her face had become an intense shade of red. "You are by far the worst brother in all of history!"

"Excuse me." An uncertain voice interrupted our conversation. I turned to spot Mr. Walton at the edge of the garden. "If this is a bad time, I can come back later, Mr. Bywood."

"Not at all," I said swiftly. "You couldn't have arrived at a more opportune moment. Philippa, this is my steward, Mr. Frederick Walton. Mr. Walton, my younger sister Miss Philippa Bywood. You must have heard she came for an unexpected visit."

The man snatched his hat off his head and made an awkward bow. "Miss Bywood."

"Pleasure," Philippa snapped out. She then turned abruptly on her heel and marched away.

Mr. Walton took a few steps forward, looking embarrassed. "I hope I didn't offend her," he said, his tone anxious. "I truly didn't mean to interrupt your...discussion."

"Right now, my sister seems to take offense at everything," I told him with a sigh. "She and her betrothed are having something of a lover's quarrel, and I have found myself as the mediator between them."

"Ah. An unenviable position to be in," he responded, a look of understanding dawning on his face. "My older sisters often found the path to matrimony to be a troublesome one, almost as troublesome as being married. They often tried to involve me, but I have learned my lesson well. I stay out of it all."

"Indeed. Now. What did you want to tell me?" I assumed there had to be a reason he had approached when my sister's voice had been raised.

His expression became serious. "Someone has been digging holes in the stable yard."