Daphne laughed, too. “If that’s the case you must allow me to try after you’re done, Miss Lowndes.”

“First of all, you must call me Jane,” she said to the younger woman. “Secondly, you cannot possibly have any enemies at your age, dear.”

“You’d be quite surprised,” Daphne said. “I may be nineteen, but there is someone I’m quite peeved at presently.”

“Do tell.” Lucy stepped closer, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “And you must call me Lucy, too, dear. None of this ‘Your Grace’ nonsense.”

Daphne sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t tell. But suffice it to say, I have good reasons for wanting to shoot him.”

“A lady of mystery? I like that.” Lucy nodded slowly.

“Him?” Jane arched a brow. “That’s the part I like.”

Daphne gave her a small smile and a shrug.

Jane watched the girl. Daphne was a tiny little blond thing with a plethora of energy. She’d made her come-out last year and suffered a horrible bout of sadness after her elder brother died the following autumn. It was impossible not to like Daphne. “Pretending to shoot at men or not, I’m pleased you’re out today, Daphne. The fresh air is good for you,” Jane said.

“I must thank you both for making me smile, and laugh. It’s been so long,” Daphne replied, a faraway look in her sparkling gray eyes.

Lucy crossed over the lawn and gave her a quick hug. “My dear Daphne. We’re happy to make you laugh. In fact, it’s our specialty. Besides, we’re practically sisters. You’re one of us. Jane and I love Cass as dearly as if she were our sister.”

“Thank you, Jane and Lucy.” Daphne’s mouth quirked up in a shy smile. “I couldn’t be happier to have Cass joining our family. Mother and I adore her.”

“Julian too,” Lucy replied with a wink.

“Of course,” Daphne agreed. “Julian too.”

Jane faced the bull’s-eye again, pulled back the bow, closed one eye, and let it fly. Another direct hit. It nearly split the previous arrow in two. “Take that, Lord Bartholomew.”

“Well done,” Lucy said.

Daphne clapped her hands. “Why, the only other person I’ve seen shoot an arrow so precisely is Captain Cavendish.”

Jane and Lucy exchanged a glance over Daphne’s head. Daphne had mentioned Captain Rafferty Cavendish, her brothers’ friend who had been with Donald when he died, on several occasions of late.

“How is Captain Cavendish doing, dear?” Lucy strolled to where Daphne stood near Jane.

“All better, or so he says. He’s recovered from his wounds in such short order, the doctors are amazed.”

“Will he be able to attend the wedding?” Lucy prodded while Jane readied another arrow.

“I do hope—I mean, I think so.” Daphne tugged at her gown.

“You’re not peeved at him, are you, dear?” Lucy ventured.

Jane took a quick look at Daphne. The poor girl was blushing.

“No, wait. Don’t answer,” Lucy continued. “I’d hate to deprive you of your mystery.”

Daphne’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”