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T hank heavens the Almighty had granted them a pristine day with no more than a few fluffy clouds setting off the sparkling blue of the sky.

A teasing but most welcome breeze rustled through the trees and rhythmically swayed the tall grasses.

The pristine white tents and table coverings gently billowed as if brought to life by the meadow fairies.

Grace craned her neck, overseeing Carson gathering her hounds and leading them away so they wouldn’t be a bother to the guests.

The huntsman, which was a ridiculous title for the man, was the only one she trusted to look after her pups.

Even poor Gastric, Hector, and Sissy’s condescending cat Galileo had joined the ranks of the beasties barred from the festivities.

The servants had enough to manage with maintaining the bounty of food and drink that had to be kept either warm or cool, and, more specifically, bug free.

They didn’t need the additional worry of shooing away the animals.

The long banquet tables sheltered within the tents nearly groaned with everything a discerning guest might desire.

Cold joints of not only roasted beef but boiled as well, shoulders of lamb, roasted fowl, lobsters, lettuces, and stewed fruit were just the beginning of the offerings.

Additional tables in an adjoining tent held turnovers, cheesecakes, jam puffs, and cold cabinet puddings in molds.

Every bread, biscuit, and cake imaginable was artfully arranged where tea would be served.

Grace smiled at her sister Felicity fussing over the items she had personally prepared. Dear, sweet Felicity adored food, both eating it and preparing it. Thank heavens for the talented seamstress from the village who had already repaired several of her gowns whose seams had given way.

“What did Felicity make this year?” Joy asked as she came up beside Grace.

“I managed to find out right before she ordered me out of the tent,” Grace said, then counted off on her fingers.

“Salmagundi with the freshest shallots from Cook’s garden.

Of course, she used chopped chicken and duck, so I won’t be trying that.

Cold pigeon pie, and I can’t imagine how she could be so heartless to those poor little birds.

Rout cakes and fool—both blueberry and raspberry. I’ll most definitely try those.”

“Did Connor approve them?” Joy asked with a laugh. “That young man has become quite the connoisseur.”

“I believe he did.” Grace pointed the child out, running down the hillside with his sister and a few children of the same age from the village.

Everyone was invited to the Broadmere picnic, no matter their station in life.

“Do you not think he’s grown since staying with us?

It must be from taste-testing Felicity’s recipes. ”

“Possibly.” Joy made a show of glancing all around. “And where is your intended?” she asked with a coy wink.

“Joy!”

“Do not scold. Everyone knows.” Joy adjusted her gloves, straightening the seams between her fingers. “Has His Grace’s solicitor spoken to you know who yet?”

“I wish I knew.” And that was the crux of it.

Until matters were handled as delicately as possible, even though Wolfe and the ladies Longmorten were not on speaking terms, Grace had to play the part of nothing more than the Duke of Wolfebourne’s neighbor.

She could hardly be seen walking with Wolfe and behaving as though they belonged to one another, and that also made overhearing any pertinent information about his engagement to Lady Margaret a great deal more difficult.

“We could go welcome the Longmortens,” Joy suggested with a wicked grin.

“Chance and Serendipity are welcoming the guests as they arrive—remember?” Grace scanned the grounds, making note of who was where and talking to whom.

She spied the Longmortens and their ever-present guard, Sir Andrew.

“Our persons of interest are over there beside the willow, already seated at one of the tables. Lady Longmorten looks ready to bite through iron spikes, Lady Margaret appears to be misery itself, and Sir Andrew is either angry or taken with a fever. Have you ever seen so much color in the man’s cheeks before? ”

“He is her lover,” Joy said with such conviction that Grace turned and stared at her. Usually quite adept at reading individuals, almost to the point of being labeled as gifted, her sister almost always knew more about people than they knew about themselves.

“Did Lady Margaret confide in you?”

Joy rolled her eyes. “She didn’t have to. All you need do is watch her. There . Right there. She looked at him again as if wishing they were anywhere but here. See it? And if you wait but a few moments, she will repeat the action, as will he.”

“He does appear to be smoldering a bit whenever he looks at her.” Grace studied the pair. What a miserable way to live—denying your love for another all in the name of riches and social standing. “I wish we could help her.”

“Help her?” Joy swatted Grace’s skirts with her closed parasol. “Not two days ago you were ready to thrash the woman and her mother for threatening Connor and Sissy.”

“I still am.” Grace swatted Joy back with her own lacy parasol that matched the regal blue of her new spencer.

Far be it from her to allow her younger sister to get the better of her.

“But if we helped Lady Margaret run away with Sir Andrew, would that not get both the women permanently away from Wolfebourne Lodge?”

“Must you two pick at each other as if you were still children?” Serendipity asked as she came up behind them. “I mean, really!”

“Calm yourself,” Grace told her. “The picnic looks to be a roaring success, and everyone is enjoying their outing and has you and Felicity to thank for it. Joy and I were just discussing Lady Margaret and Sir Andrew. She claims they are lovers.”

Serendipity opened her pale yellow parasol and rested it on her shoulder, shielding that part of her face not protected from the sun by the brim of her matching bonnet.

She nodded at Grace and Joy. “Your creamy complexions, ladies. Parasols up, please.” Then she casually turned and studied the Longmorten women and their knight.

“I believe you might have something there, Joy. They do keep glancing at each other when they believe no one sees.”

“It’s a wonder Lady Longmorten has not had an attack of apoplexy,” Joy said while twirling her parasol on her shoulder. “She came here today to do battle. See the murder in her eyes?”

“Well…” With her parasol properly in place, Grace caught up her white skirts so she might walk faster without staining her hem on the green grasses of the meadow.

“I say we make the first move by going over and speaking with them. What say you, sisters?” But she hadn’t taken two steps before she was blocked by Connor and Sissy, hopping up and down and chattering at the same time.

“Calm down, sir and madam,” she told them, bending to bring herself to their eye level. “One at a time. I can’t help you if I can’t understand you.”

“Wait,” Serendipity said. She and Joy casually moved around and placed themselves and their parasols so the Longmortens couldn’t see the children. “Carry on.”

“Lord Middlebie is foxed,” Sissy said in a worried whisper. “He’s shouting all sorts of things.”

“Jug-bitten badly,” Connor added. “And even louder than usual. He’s done told all the men that you didn’t give him a second glance ’cause you got your sights set on a duke and couldn’t care less that the man’s already promised to marry another woman—the woman he feels he should rightly have.”

“Oh, dear heavens, what a mess.” Serendipity stretched to look around the area. “I told Chance to watch that man. We all know how Middlebie gets when he overindulges. It is beyond me why our bacon-brained brother even invited him here for the summer after I expressly asked him not to.”

“Give over, Seri,” Grace said, searching the sprawling picnic for the drunken Scot. “You know as well as I that Chance wants us all married off and probably thought if an eligible male stayed under our roof, one of us might surrender.”

“Not bloody well likely,” Joy said. “We all know what Middlebie is like.”

“Joy! Language!” Serendipity gathered the children closer. “Where is Lord Middlebie putting on his show?”

Connor pointed. “On the far side of the pond. Over there, behind them trees. He even stripped off his shirt and started picking up big rocks and throwing them in the water to show everyone his strength.”

Serendipity looked ready to collapse in a dead faint, and Joy snickered so hard her face went red as a boiled beetroot. Both the children turned to Grace.

“What you want we should do?” Sissy asked her. “We don’t want him to spoil Lady Seri’s party.”

“No, indeed,” Grace said. “We wouldn’t want that.

” She waved Connor forward. “I need you to find Chance and fetch him as quick as you can. Bring him to the pond. Joy, you and Sissy come with me. It will take all three of us to keep Lord Middlebie confused and distracted until Chance comes to lead his sotted friend away.”

“What should I do?” Serendipity asked, looking so lost and despondent that Grace’s heart hurt for her poor sister who always had the answers.

“Start the lawn games and keep the rest of the guests as far away from the area around the pond as you possibly can.”

“I shall hang Chance by his braces if this day is ruined.” Serendipity left in a flurry, muttering about everything she intended to do to her brother if Middlebie soured the picnic.

“How are we going to distract a drunkard determined to put on a show?” Joy asked. “And if he sees you, he’ll probably get even louder. Did you happen to consider that?”