He leaned forward and touched her hand. "You have a very gentle heart, Sylvia," he said, gazing earnestly into her face, "but you are certainly not a weak person."

She turned her hand so that their fingers clasped. "You give me courage, Nigel," she said. "When I am with you, I feel as if I could stand up against the world."

She tried to smile, but suddenly they were looking intently into each other's eyes. Their hands involuntarily clasped more tightly.

"Oh, God!" he whispered.

"Nigel?" she said, her voice thin and wavering.

At the same moment they snatched their hands away and broke eye contact. Sylvia smoothed her dress over her knees with jerky movements. Nigel snatched up the oars and began to row. They did not look at each other or speak for a while.

"I shall have to go away, you know," he blurted at last. "Tonight."

"Please don't," Sylvia pleaded, her eyes coming back to his face. "Oh, please don't leave me here alone, Nigel."

"Alone?" he said. "You have your cousin here and your friends. You can enjoy what is left of the week."

"No, I cannot," she said, her voice shaking. "Please, Nigel, do not leave. I am mortally afraid of him."

"Of George?" he asked, incredulous. "He won't harm you, Sylvia. He may be somewhat starchy and he may scold a little, but he would never hurt you or be really cruel."

"Oh, I know," Sylvia wailed. "But I cannot be alone with him, Nigel. I do not love him. I have made a terrible mistake."

They stared at each other, Sylvia's eyes wide and frightened.

Nigel finally stopped rowing and shipped the oars again. "I believe it is quite common," he said carefully, staring down at his boots, "for people to panic before their wedding. It is such a final step, you see. But their fear may not reflect their true feelings."

"Nigel," Sylvia said, "I never did love your brother. I thought I did because he is handsome and has such presence. And it felt so wonderful to attract such a, great lord during my first Season. Cousin Edward was so pleased and thought it such an eligible match for me. Even so, I believe I would not have become betrothed so soon if he had not been your brother, Nigel."

"Did I persuade you to?" he asked aghast.

"No," she replied, "but I liked you so much and I must have felt that I liked him too just because he is your brother."

Nigel ran his fingers through his hair. "It is too late now, Sylvia," he said. "I should be shot. I was so busy courting you for George that I did not fully realize that I wished to court you for myself."

"Oh, did you really, Nigel?" she asked.

Nigel picked up the oars and once more began to row, this time in the direction of the bank. He did not speak until they were close to the small group who had stayed on the grass. "It is no good," he said finally. "I can see no way out."


***

Sir Bernard Crawleigh, meanwhile, had rowed his boat directly for the small island in the middle of the lake. Rosalind made no objection. In fact, he had noted that her eyes sparkled and her lips smiled today. Her manner was almost flirtatious.

"You look very fetching in that particular shade of orange," he said. "Quite southern. I must take you to Italy for our wedding trip, Rosalind. Do you have relatives there?"

"Yes, several," she replied, smiling. "I have corresponded with them since my parents died there."

By unspoken consent they did not converse again until the boat had been secured to a tree branch that overhung the water at the island, and Sir Bernard had helped Rosalind onto dry land.

She looked down at her feet gingerly. "I do hope this is not just a stretch of swampy land," she said.

"Not at all," he replied. "George tells me there is even a pavilion hidden among these trees that was built for him and his brother when they were children."

He took her hand and led her among the trees. Almost immediately they could see the water at the other side of the island. But the pavilion was there, cleverly hidden among the trees. It was hexagonal, its roof supported by a wooden pillar at each corner. Wooden walls closed it in chest-high, but the upper half was open. There was a doorway but no door. They went inside, Sir Bernard stooping slightly so that his head would not graze the ceiling. Dried leaves crunched under their feet.

"No one has been here for a long time," Rosalind said. "Look, almost all the paint has peeled off the walls."

"What a shame!" he sighed. "I was hoping for a nice cozy structure in which to seduce you."

"Then I am very glad that it is as it is," she said severely, with a twinkle in her eye. "That was not at all a proper plan, sir."

He ducked back through the doorway. "I never said it was," he said. "I am finding Standen's house confoundedly crowded, are you not, Rosalind? I am a frustrated lover."

"I and my honor are eternally grateful for the crowd," Rosalind assured him.

"Well, for the moment at least you are my prisoner," he said with a grin, and circled her waist with his arm.

Rosalind laughed and punched him lightly on both shoulders with her fists. The next moment she was being very thoroughly kissed and clasped against the full length of him. She felt the kiss change tone after the first teasing moments. His mouth became urgent, his breathing faster. His hands roamed her back, molding her to him, and finally pressed down on her hips. Rosalind deliberately allowed the experience. She did not flinch even when his mouth trailed a hot path to her throat and his hands came up to cup her breasts through the thin muslin of her dress. But it was a clinical experience. She could not force herself to feel part of the embrace.

"A frustrated lover indeed," he said ruefully, and nibbled at her earlobe. "I cannot do any of the things I wish to do, love, in this standing position. And there is no grass on which we may lie down. Was ever such a pair of star-crossed lovers?"

"We almost rival Romeo and Juliet," she replied, pushing herself away from him in some relief. "And there are going to be several suspicious people on the bank opposite if we do not reappear soon."

"Ah, the voice of reality and common sense," he mocked as he took her arm and led her carefully back down to the boat.


***

The picnic proceeded with a great deal of gaiety when all members of the party had returned to the starting point. Sylvia's unusual quietness and Rosalind's forced high spirits did not attract any particular notice.

Sir Bernard Crawleigh, it seemed, was far from satisfied with the events of the afternoon. When the whole party arrived at the house, Rosalind would have ascended the staircase with the rest of the ladies to rest and freshen up for dinner. Her leg was feeling uncomfortably sore after the rather long walk. But her betrothed caught her by the hand and pulled her unnoticed to a reception salon opening off the main hall. He led her inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He drew her to him and kissed her.

"I begin to think it was a mistake to accept the invitation to come here," he said, holding her head against his shoulder. "I find being this close to you more disquieting than seeing you only formally in London."

"Well, in a few more days we will be back there, Bernard," she said, raising her head and lightly kissing his chin.

"Love, let me come to you tonight," he said, clasping her to him again urgently. "I shall make sure that I am not seen, and I can promise you a night of great pleasure."

Rosalind bit her lip painfully. "We are not married yet," she said.

"But we will be soon," he argued. "What difference can a couple of months make, love?"

"Bernard…" she began.

"Hush," he said, stopping her lips with his again. "Don't say no. I know it is only that maidenly modesty of yours that makes you hesitate. You want me, I know it. I shall come tonight and we will make love in peace and comfort."

"Over my dead body," a quiet but cold voice said.

Rosalind jumped away from her companion as if she had been scalded. Where was he? Sir Bernard Crawleigh cursed under his breath and stood with fists clenched at his sides, staring at the high back of a chair above which the top of a blond head was just visible.

"What in thunder are you doing here, Raymore?" he said tightly.

"I am here by invitation," the earl answered, rising to his feet and turning to face the couple who stood just inside the door. "I was shown in here to await Standen's return home. It seems the butler did not quite know what to do with me when I arrived two days earlier than expected."

"You might have made your presence known a great deal sooner," Sir Bernard said testily.

Raymore's face hardened. "It seems to me it was a good thing I did not decide to interrupt a lovers' tryst sooner than I did," he said coldly. "Miss Dacey is my ward, Crawleigh. I am responsible for her conduct until she marries. I find your behavior quite reprehensible. Were you not betrothed to her and within a few months of your marriage, I should feel obliged to call you out for the words you just spoke."

"I think it is well that you remember that Rosalind will soon by my wife," Sir Bernard said, obviously making an effort to hold on to his temper. "And remember, too, Raymore, that she is not a girl from the schoolroom. She is old enough to decide for herself the degree of intimacy she will allow between herself and her future husband."

"Please!" Rosalind interrupted. "Let us end this argument. Bernard, I gave you my answer. And, Edward, I would thank you to at least try not to treat me like a child. I resent your constant interference in my affairs. Soon I shall owe complete loyalty to Bernard."