Dead silence spread across the yard at Rosamond's exclamation. I cleared my throat, trying to think of some way to escape the sudden scrutiny. "That's a ridiculous accusation, Rosamund. Why would I need to hold you up and steal an inconsequential ring?"

Rosamund's chin came up with defiance. "You have never liked me," she said, a sob coming into her voice. She covered her face with her hands. "You want only to torment me!"

"A fine reason to risk getting shot," I said, lacing my voice with all the scorn I could muster. As I glanced over the crowd, I realized that Miles wasn't where he'd been standing not five minutes earlier. Had he left me to deal with this on my own? "If you ask me, Rosamund, you have been reading too many novels."

Ward gave a loud, exaggerated laugh and said, "Had I known my little story last week would send the ladies' imagination running wild, I would have kept it to myself. Now, Mrs. Ramsey, have you some refreshment? Bywood and I are famished from our ride, and I'm sure everyone else is parched from waiting for our return."

At least I had someone on my side. Mrs. Ramsey, though, made no move to offer refreshments. No one seemed to pay Ward any heed. "There's an easy way to prove it wrong," George said. "Remove your jacket, Lucas."

Dread ran through me. Ward met my eyes, and he shook his head. Feeling as though I had been backed into a corner, I said, "I will not." It would prove nothing, only that I had been shot. "I am not the highwayman."

My quiet statement seemed only to confirm my guilt in their minds. Rosamund let out a scream and proclaimed she always knew I was good for nothing. Mrs. Ramsey began fluttering her hand in front of her face and gasped for breath as Mrs. Darkin tried to assist her. Mr. Talbot pulled Philippa away as though proximity to me would infect his wife-to-be with dangerous tendencies. Phoebe stared at me as though she was confused and George shook his head mournfully.

"I didn't take the ring," I said, raising my voice to be heard over the din. "I have no need for it or any desire to have it."

"If you are not the highwayman, as you claim, then why do you not show your arm?" Rosamund asked. She stepped forward to jab her finger into my chest. "I want my ring back, you thief!"

Irritated, I swatted her hand away as I would an annoying insect. "Did you not hear me? I. Didn't. Take it."

"Lucas, you will come home with me now," George said in a low voice. "I'm sure our father will want to hear a full account."

Miss Darkin stepped forward. "Someone must go for the doctor, first. Mr. Bywood is still bleeding, which cannot be good."

George grabbed onto my uninjured arm as though I were planning on escaping. "Thank you, Miss Darkin," he said, making her bristle with his dismissive tone. "I know how to take care of my brother. Mr. Ramsey, if it is not too much trouble, please have Phaeton delivered to our stable and send someone for Dr. Morgan." The older man gave a nod, his expression one of disappointment.

"You cannot mean to take the criminal in the carriage with us!" Rosamund said, aghast.

"I can see no other alternative."

"I can ride Phaeton back myself," I said. "I have no intention of fleeing the country. I have done nothing wrong."

George's fingers tightened. "No."

"It would be my pleasure to escort Mrs. Bywood and Miss Bywood home once they have had a chance to recover from this shock," Mr. Talbot said. "Mrs. Ramsey, no doubt, could use their company for a few hours."

"Thank you, sir." With more force than was necessary, George pushed me towards the carriage. He remained far too close for comfort as I climbed in. He was quick to get in and close the door.

"Will you listen to reason now?" I asked as the carriage began moving. "I swear I did not take the stupid ring. Yes, I was in the trees, and yes, you shot me. I had nothing to do with Rosamund's ring being taken from her, though."

His silence gave me my answer. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the cushion. How had everything gone so wrong, so quickly?

Miles had better be on hand when I arrived at the Hall to set things right.

****

George kept a grip on the back of my jacket, ignoring my objection, and marched me into the Hall. "Butler, is my father in his office?" he asked.

"He is not," Butler said, his face barely registering surprise. "He went to inspect the Millers' new roof. Is there a problem, Mr. Bywood?"

George groaned. "Dr. Morgan should be arriving soon. Tell him that my unfortunate, impetuous brother was shot a few days ago and that we await him in my father's office"

I managed a grin when Butler's eyes widened with astonishment as he glanced towards me. "They're making too much of a small thing," I said. I did not doubt that Dr. Morgan would put two and two together and figure out what had happened. "In fact, you could just send Mr. Russell's valet, Skriven, down and he will patch me back up in no time."

"I'm afraid Mr. Russell left no more than fifteen minutes ago," Butler said, stoically. "He did not say if he intended to return, but he did take his luggage with him."

Before I could question the butler anymore, George pushed me towards Father's office. I didn't put up a fight as I analyzed the news. Miles had just left? There was no possible way he could have missed that his idiotic highwayman scheme had landed me in trouble. Under the circumstances, I felt I had every right to explain his part in the whole thing.

"Sit down and stay there," George said, shoving me into the closest chair. "We are going to stay here until Father returns."

"And while we wait, I can explain to you—"

"You will say nothing! I am in no mood for any tall tale of yours."

Pressing my lips together, I settled myself more comfortably in the chair. George paced in front of me, sending anxious glances at the door. Much to my relief, we didn't have long to wait. "What is this about?" Father asked as he entered. "Lucas! Are you bleeding?"

"Butler is sending someone for the doctor," George said before I could respond. "Lucas has been keeping secrets from us. He was one of the two men I saw among the trees the night Rosamund, and I were held up."

Father's eyes flicked from George to me and seemed to make the connection. "Are you telling me you shot your brother?"

Flustered, George sputtered for a moment. "No! Well, yes, but that's not the point." He waved a hand at me. "Lucas was one of the highwaymen who took Rosamund's ring. He has been foolish, irresponsible, and everything we feared he would be."

It took all my self-control to keep from taking offense at the last statement. I needed to remain focused on the topic at hand and resolve this misunderstanding. "I have told you I'm not a highwayman," I said, straightening myself in the chair. "It was Miles."

"You cannot blame Miles when he isn't here to defend himself." Father frowned at me as he spoke. He moved closer and reached as though he would take my arm. His hand dropped before he touched me. "Lucas, George, what is this all about? I believed you to be risking your safety on a race with one of the Ramseys' guests."

"Oh, I was," I said before George could cause any damage. "Until children from Oakcrest—I think they were Charles Simmons' children, but I did not have a good look—ran into our path and I fell from Phaeton. Ward and I agreed to postpone our race until another time. We returned to Braglow, and suddenly I'm the highwayman."

"If you're so innocent, why didn't you agree to remove your coat at Braglow?" George asked, his tone frustrated. "You're not treating this matter with any degree of seriousness. Have you no idea what the consequences are for committing highway robbery?"

"I didn't! How many times must I repeat myself?"

Heaving a sigh, Father said at the same time, "I hardly think this has to go beyond the ones who already are aware of it, George. Lucas will return the ring, and we will say no more about it."

Why was I not surprised Father did not believe me? "I don't have the ring."

George crossed his arms. "You can't have sold it already, Luke. You've not gone anywhere, so do not think you can pull the wool over my eyes."

"Search my room. You won't find it."

"Because you've hidden it somewhere."

My anger growing, I pushed myself up, hissing as pain warned me I was using my arm too much. "Why will you not believe me? Miles is the one who took the ring."

"And why would he do that?" Father asked. "Sit down, Lucas, before you fall over."

I was not on the verge of collapsing, but I sat down anyway. "I don't know why Miles would do something so idiotic," I said, even though I did know. Miles had thought it the only option to get his ring back and to be able to offer for Phoebe finally. "It's quite a tangle. I don't know how Rosamund ended up with it since he used the ring as security for a debt he owes Mr. Lamotte."

The office door opened, interrupting our 'discussion.' "Dr. Morgan has arrived, sir," Butler said.

"Send him in," Father said. "George, while your brother is being seen to, search his room. If you find the ring, bring it to me."

Part of me wanted to protest the intrusion into my personal space, but I had challenged them to do it. And, it was slightly encouraging that Father had used the word 'if' and not 'when.' Perhaps he wasn't entirely convinced of my guilt.

Scowling, George said, "I will take a few of the footmen to help with—"

"I think the fewer who know about this, the better."

I couldn't keep the smirk from my lips as my brother stormed out. "And you ought not to look so amused, young man," Father said sharply. He rose from his seat and moved around his desk. "I don't understand what you have gotten yourself into, but I do know you are in the middle of something."

Dr. Morgan entered, carrying his medical bag. "I'm told young Lucas has had something of a mishap."

"You could call it that," Father said, extending his hand. "The fool boy got himself shot two days ago and said nothing."

"I'm sitting right here," I said, objecting to being talked over.

"It's a wonder you're even doing that if the bloodstain is anything to go by," the doctor said as he set his bag down by my chair. "A fool is the only one who would even try to hide a bullet wound."

The following hour was even worse than when Skriven had stitched the wound shut. Dr. Morgan ruthlessly scrubbed my arm before he threaded a needle. Father relented enough to hand me a full measure of brandy, which eased some of the pain.

George slunk in halfway through Dr. Morgan's needlework and admitted that he had found nothing in my room. His disappointment was obvious, and I couldn't decide if I should be relieved he had found nothing or offended he had been so sure of my guilt. He poured himself a drink and held his silence.

Dr. Morgan wrapped my arm, and then left, leaving behind a sleeping draft for 'the shock.' I was faced once again with my father and brother. "So, now what?" I asked. It wasn't merely the alcohol that made me flippant. "Do we begin again? I say I am innocent and you proclaim me to be a liar? Because, to be honest, I've had quite enough of that already."

"Lucas, enough," Father said with a sigh. He drew his hand over his eyes, and I noticed for the first time that he was looking older. The lines around his eyes and the creases in his forehead were from stress. "No one is accusing you."

"He could have hidden the ring," George said, his tone defensive. "How else do you explain him getting shot?"

"He has already said he was in the trees," Father said, much to my surprise. "No doubt he heard you shooting and thought he ought to look into it. Hardly a smart idea, but absolutely the foolish sort of course I can see Lucas taking."

Again, I didn't know whether to be flattered he knew me so well or offended at being described as foolish. It took too much energy to feel anything at all. Father faced George with a determined expression. "One way or another, we will get to the bottom of this."

"Don't tell me, after everything Lucas has done, you trust a word he says," George said with disbelief.

My irritation dissipated as my gaze met Father's. "However irresponsible he may have acted in the past, he has never been a liar," he said. "George, send a message to Mr. Lamotte and request a moment of his time."

Finally, it was not all in my shoulders. I blew out a sigh of relief. "And what about Lucas?" George asked, his tone almost amusing with how petulant he sounded.

"Lucas is going to his room, and he will stay there until I have learned the truth."

With the effects of falling from Phaeton —and getting my arm resewn—clouding my mind, I couldn't find any annoyance at being sent to my room like a child. My room meant my bed, where I could sleep.

With any luck, when I woke up, this whole situation would be resolved.

****

A five-hour nap did wonders for restoring my mood. Given how long it had been since I had last eaten, my stomach rumbled as I sat up. With a yawn, I pushed myself out of bed and made myself respectable before I walked to the door. Strangely, I found a letter on the floor and knelt down to pick it up.

With one hand, I broke the seal, and with the other, I made to open the door. It didn't budge.

"Odd," I said aloud, jiggling the latch. I blamed fatigue for how long it took me to realize the door was actually locked. "I don't believe this."

I hit the door with my fist. "Hey! Is there anyone there?"

No one answered me. I had been locked away like a criminal.