When I arrived at Father's office, I found George seething quietly in the corner. He had learned about my arrangements for the repair the Masons' roof, and Father's nod of approval only compounded his anger. "Well done, Lucas. It is better for something to be done before it is too late. There may be hope for you yet."

The complement left me feeling hollow, and I didn't have anything else to say on the subject. "How is Mama today?" I asked, bracing myself for a scolding about being responsible for her relapse. She had been sleeping when I went to her, and so I took the risk of asking my father.

Once again, Father surprised me. "She seemed a bit improved," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. "Philippa took up flowers to her this morning and brightened the room. You know how women are about those things."

George still had his arms crossed and a grim expression on his face. It seemed it would take some time for him to cease being irritated that I had acted without his permission. I tapped the desk to attract his attention. "Will you and Rosamund be joining us to dine with the Ramseys tonight?"

Immediately, George sent an anxious glance at the clock. "Yes. In fact, we should all get ready to go. Rosamund will have our heads if we are late."

"You boys enjoy yourselves tonight," Father said with a fond smile. "Philippa has already sent my regrets as I believe an evening with your mother is in order. Every moment I can spend with her is important now. George, you make sure Lucas behaves himself."

"I'm not sure anyone is up to such a weighty responsibility," George said. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "He's never listened to me before and don't think he's about to start now. Luke will do what he wants when he wants no matter what anyone says."

There would have been no use in denying it, and I held my tongue. I walked out of the office ahead of him. No matter what he said, I knew I had done what was best for the estate and for one brief moment I had my father's approval. As far as I was concerned, it had been a good day.

Taking the steps two at a time, I headed up upstairs. I could hear Philippa chatting away with her maid in her room as I went past and it made me smile. The oak door that stood at the threshold of Rosamund's room did not block the sound of my sister-in-law's shouting. Flinching, I quickened my steps until I was well away and felt sorry for whoever was unfortunate enough to be my sister-in-law's maid.

Knowing I would not need hours to get ready for dinner, I settled into a chair in my room and began reading.

****

I was in the middle of tying my cravat when there was a loud knock on my door. "Yes?" I said, keeping my eyes on my mirror. The door opened, and Philippa stuck her head in. "What's wrong, Philly? Am I keeping Rosamund waiting?"

"Yes, you are," my sister said, rolling her eyes. "She insists she has important things to discuss with Mrs. Ramsey and the Williamson girls. Are you ready now or do you want us to go ahead?"

For a moment, I considered. I refused to let Rosamund put me on a timetable that regularly changed and only she was in charge of. "I think I would prefer to walk over. Express my sincerest regrets to her, if you please."

"I will not lie for you, Luke. Just make sure you're not late. There's nothing a girl hates more than her beau to be being late."

It seemed ridiculous that to be late was what a girl would hate the most. I could think of at least half a dozen different actions that would be worse. I just laughed at Philippa as she closed the door, leaving me to finish dressing.

Ten minutes later, I was satisfied with my appearance. I made my way down to the hall where Butler had my hat and cane waiting. "Don't wait up for me, Butler," I said cheerfully. "I might be out late."

"This is not Town, Master Lucas," he said with a disapproving stare. "I do hope you will return at a decent hour."

Chuckling, I donned my hat and caught the sleek cane in my hand. "Perhaps, but you never know what kind of adventure one will have while walking. Has Mr. Russell returned from his business?"

"Mr. Russell has not."

It still puzzled me what Miles was up to, but if it brought an end to my 'courtship,' then I was happy to allow him the freedom to do as he will without any questioning from me. At least, not much questioning. I only hoped it didn't create any more of a tangle in my affairs.

If it did, I would be tempted to wash my hands of it all, break the engagement, and leave them all to sort it out without my help.

In the interest of keeping Phaeton rested before the upcoming race, I set out on foot. An evening walk wasn't what I had been planning on, but I was willing to make do. It wasn't far, even if I did take the road instead of cutting across the property. I knew the evening dew would do irreparable harm to my breeches.

There was a different kind of peace when walking in the twilight. Few birds were awake to chirp and sing their songs. Owls hooted, and small animals stirred the grass alongside the road. There wasn't a soul to be seen as I walked.

I had never honestly considered myself to be someone who enjoyed solitude, but since I had come back home, maybe the description was more accurate than anything else. I enjoyed the company of friends, and I would never turn down the opportunity of having a good time, but there did come the point when quiet was all I needed.

The crack of a gunshot destroyed the peaceful nature of the evening, and I came to a halt, listening carefully. Poachers weren't uncommon in our area, and for the most part, we overlooked them. But the shot had come from close by.

There wasn't a second shot, but I did hear shouting. I hesitated for a moment and then plunged into the sparse woods to my right. As cautiously as I could, I moved towards the sound. I knew the trees would only provide minimal cover, but I was not idiot enough to go charging into a situation that involved guns.

Before I got near enough to have a clear view, someone came crashing through the trees. "Come back here, villain!" I heard George shout.

The man tripped on a stone and hit the ground. "Blast it!" he said as he struggled to his feet.

"Miles?" I asked incredulously. He had something wrapped around the lower half of his face and was dressed in questionable apparel. "What are you doing?"

He spun towards me and swore. "Luke, we have to get out of here." Charging forward, he grabbed my arm and jerked me around. "Come on! He's following me."

George? I wanted to ask what Miles had done but chose instead to follow him. I heard the snap of twigs underfoot as my brother drew nearer. "Your accomplice won't help you, ruffian!" George shouted furiously.

The loud crack of a pistol shot echoed through the trees and then liquid fire burned across my upper right shoulder. Crying out, I staggered, nearly going down on my knees. It took me a moment to realize what had just happened.

My brother had shot me.

Miles tightened his grip on my other arm and pulled me along. I focused on my breathing and tried not to think of the pain that ran from my shoulder down to my fingers. My friend angled us towards the road, got us across, and threw me down to the ground. He stretched out beside me and waited.

It felt as though an eternity passed until the sound of pursuit faded. Miles lifted his head and glanced around. "We lost him."

I reached over and grabbed his arm. "Miles, I hope you know this could put a damper on our friendship," I said through gritted teeth. It felt only fair to warn him.

"Ow," he said, trying to pry my fingers off. "I thought you would be happy, Luke. I got the ring."

"Do you mean to tell me you just stole a ring from my sister-in-law?" I asked, my voice rising in anger and pain. Something warm was running down my injured arm, and I knew it was blood. "Miles, how stupid are you?"

He managed to escape my grip and pulled out of my reach. "Luke, it's fine. I will tell Phoebe she will be unable to wear the ring until after we are married and then we will not be here."

A disbelieving laugh left my lips, though amusement was the furthest thing from my mind. "You underestimate my sister-in-law. You will cross paths at some point, and I know Rosamund will remember that ring and how she lost it."

Shaking his head, Miles stood up and glanced around. "Come on. We need to get changed and get to Braglow before anyone connects us to this. Why are you still on the ground? Luke, we need to move."

"Miles, I was shot!"

In the fading light, he stared down at me. "I'm sure it cannot be as bad as that." He reached down to help me up. "Your brother wasn't even aiming at us."

Ignoring his hand, I struggled up. A wave of nausea and dizziness hit. As I stumbled, Miles grabbed me by the shoulders, and I couldn't keep from yelping in pain. "Luke, are you well?" he asked in concern.

"No, I told you I was shot!"

With my equilibrium restored, I brushed him off and started walking. I dearly wanted a drink. "Why didn't you tell me you were planning something?" I asked. The pain made me more snappish than usual, but I felt I had the right to be. "I could have told you it was an idiotic idea."

"See, I knew you would have some objection," Miles said as he fell into step beside me. "How bad is your arm?"

"You don't want to know."

"I have Skriven waiting for me at the hall. I am certain he will be able to bandage you up. I hardly think summoning a physician would be a good thing."

Even though Miles wouldn't see me, I rolled my eyes. George wouldn't know whether his shot had hit one of the 'highwaymen' or not, but he would undoubtedly warn Dr. Morgan to be on the lookout for a wounded man. As much as I hated it, I would have to keep this a secret, just like everything else.

****

By the time the Hall was in view, my fingers felt sticky with my blood. Miles came up on my left side and supported me, not saying a word. He steered me towards the servants' entrance, where the door was open. We had just stepped across the threshold, and the tall, taciturn Skriven was on my other side.

"I assume there was trouble, Mr. Russell?" he asked.

"Mr. Bywood has had an unfortunate accident," Miles said, making it sound like the whole thing was my fault. I muttered my annoyance, but he ignored me. "We, of course, would like to keep this incident quiet."

"Of course, sir. I will gather what I need and meet you in Mr. Bywood's room."

Nodding, Miles pushed me down the narrow hallway to the equally narrow staircase. "If you could pick up your feet a little more, it would be beneficial," he said as I stumbled on the first step. "We don't have much time to get from here to Braglow before everyone begins to be suspicious."

"I'm sorry for being so disobliging, Miles," I said, unable to rein in my sarcasm. "I shall endeavor to make sure that the next time I get shot while trying to assist you, I do not have any pressing engagements."

My friend scowled at me, and we managed to make it all the way up to the correct area of the house. It was with relief I was finally able to sit down in my room. Nothing had changed in the half hour I was gone.

A glass was put into my hand. "Drink that," Miles said as he pulled on my jacket. "You look like you could use it."

Shrugging my uninjured shoulder, I swallowed the brandy in one go. It burned going down and sent a warm feeling through me. I leaned forward so Miles could pull my jacket off me. He quickly stripped me of all my clothes from the waist up. "These can never be used again," he said, tossing my shirt and jacket into the fireplace.

The flames that had been dying down flared up as my clothes caught on fire. I wouldn't miss them, but I did feel a twinge of guilt at the waste. I hissed in pain and jerked away when my friend poked at my wound. "I'm going to need another drink if you're going to do more of that," I said, holding the empty glass out to him.

Miles took the glass from my hand. "Not too much, though." Skriven entered with a fresh bowl of water. "Your brother would be suspicious if you were to be a trifle disguised given he left you sober and it would be offensive to the Ramseys."

"As if George has never seen me drunk before." Twisting my head, I shifted my attention to the wound. The sight of the blood oozing from the crease in my shoulder made my stomach clench, and I had to look away. "You do remember he gave us both brandies for the first time, don't you?"

As the valet began cleaning my arm, which made me even more queasy, Miles chuckled. "I remember being sick the next morning. And your mother made us spend the morning with her, and we tried so hard not to be sick in front of her."

The memory made me smile, but my mirth vanished as a needle pierced my skin. With a yelp of pain, I dared to glance over. "My apologies, sir," Skriven said, insincerely. "But needs must."

Swallowing hard, I leaned my head back and stared up at the ceiling. "You may have the ring now, but it doesn't change anything else," I said, focusing on our dilemma. "You still have to repay the debt to Lamotte, and he's going to refuse to take the payment because he cannot give you the ring."

"Why are you concerned about that?" Miles asked. "Now I can propose to Phoebe with a clear conscience."

His logic made my head spin. He still had a debt to repay, and couldn't know that Lamotte needed to that money to compensate Ward, who needed the funds. I sighed and tried not to flinch away from the needlework Skriven was doing on my arm. "I will be sure to praise the advantages of living in foreign lands when I am at supper tonight," I said. "Phoebe will be free to receive your addresses soon."

"Then you haven't changed your mind?"

Surprised, I lifted my head to look at him. He was steadfastly avoiding my gaze, choosing instead to stare at my window. "Why would I have changed my mind? I gave you my word I no desire to marry Phoebe, and despite what everyone seems to think of me, I am a man who keeps his word."

My friend cleared his throat. "Of course," he said quickly.

"I assure you the time I have spent with Phoebe Ramsey has not changed my opinion of her." If anything, I was even more convinced she was a hen-witted girl and had no hope she would ever overcome it.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Never mind."

Miles' glare said he did mind it. "Sometimes I don't understand you, Luke," he said, leaning against the bedpost. "You've been ruder since you got back from your trip. Is that what travel does to a person?"

"I hardly think anything I've said can be construed as rude." Well, maybe one or two things. Clearing my throat, I shook my head. There was a painful tug on my arm, and I glanced over to find Skriven tying off the thread. "You have an unusual skill set, if I may say so, Skriven."

The valet gave a slight smile. "Perhaps," he said. He wound a pristine length of neckcloth around the stitched wound. "Will that be all, Mr. Bywood, or will you need my services in dressing for the dinner party?"

I considered the effort it would take to dress without causing further injury to myself. "If it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate the assistance." I could hardly believe I said those words after my determination to be independent of such help.

With a nod, Skriven hurried to dispose of the materials he had used and then went to my wardrobe. "You'll be coming with me for dinner," I said to Miles as the valet pulled a fresh shirt and jacket out.

"I refuse to throw off Mrs. Ramsey's table arrangements," Miles said immediately. "They do not expect me until after the meal."

"Well, I'm sure Mrs. Ramsey would understand I met you on my way here, we stopped to exchange news, and I convinced you to have a meal with everyone else, instead of the mediocre offerings at the inn. It will explain why we arrived later and so we will, hopefully, avoid being suspected as highwaymen."

Grimacing, Miles considered it as Skriven got me dressed. "I suppose it would be good to see Phoebe," my friend said thoughtfully as the valet tied my neckcloth into a Mathematical knot. "I have not had a chance to speak to her in some time."

"There you go." I glanced at the mirror and grimaced. My face was paler than usual, no doubt from the blood loss. "Miles, at least allow me one last drink to fortify myself for the walk to Braglow."

Miles poured a measure of brandy for himself and me. We both drank and then Miles led the way to the back staircase. I determined that, somehow, I would make it to the Ramsey's house and get through the dinner party.

How had my life come to this?