Later than usual the next morning, I dragged myself out of bed. Lukewarm water awaited me, and when I splashed it on my face, it helped drive the sleepiness away, though it did nothing for the headache that pounded behind my eyes. I checked the stitches and found the skin reddened around them. I wound a bandage around it to protect it, hoping for the best.

Dressing was torture, and I felt shaky by the time I was done. I spent several minutes seated on the edge of my bed, trying to steady myself.

I knew I had to keep up the pretense that everything was as it should be. Forcing myself to my feet, I made my way downstairs where I found the dining room empty. Once I filled a plate with food I had no intention of eating, I sank into a chair and reached for the coffee.

Barely five bites into the meal, the dining room door opened. Miles appeared, and his expression became stormy the moment he saw me. "It's about time you were up. It would have served you right if I dragged you out of your bed."

"In case you've forgotten, I was shot last night," I said, keeping my voice low. One never knew when a servant was nearby to overhear. Even speaking of the incident was a bad idea, but I had lost all patience with my friend. "I believe I am allowed to sleep in after such an occasion."

"How can you sleep knowing you have stolen the girl I intended to marry?"

My fork fell from my hand. "I beg your pardon?"

"Phoebe is insisting that she will keep her word and marry you," Miles said, drawing closer to the table. His hands were balled fists at his sides, as though he were trying to control himself. "She refused to see me this morning and sent Miss Darkin to tell me to leave her in peace."

I should have guessed. "Phoebe said she had no wish to marry me, and I have not made her an offer of marriage!"

"She has changed her mind."

That explained her attempts to make me cease speaking of living abroad. Groaning, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "I will not marry her."

"I will not allow you to ruin her reputation."

Lifting my head, I opened my eyes to glare at him. "Miles, pay your debt to Lamotte, find a way to corner Phoebe somewhere, and propose to her. "

Miles shook his head. "I'm of a mind not to repay Lamotte. After all, he lost the security, and I was forced to recover it myself. He should have accepted my payment earlier for he cannot force me to pay him now."

My thoughts went to Ward, who was waiting to be paid by Lamotte who in turn could not pay because he needed the payment from Miles. Could things get any more complicated? "Miles, I never imagined you would do anything so dishonorable. Go to Lamotte, tell him you have the ring, pay the man, and be done with the whole affair."

"And confess how I acquired the ring? Never! He would blackmail me for it; I am sure."

Peace and quiet were all I wanted. With desperate times calling for drastic measures, I made a swift decision. Perhaps I would regret it, but I'd had enough. "I will be engaging the cottage in France, and I will be moving there by the end of the year."

My friend's jaw dropped in shock. "Phoebe does not wish to live in France!"

"Well, as I am not marrying Phoebe, I don't see how it concerns her."

"Philly is right. Travel has changed you."

With a frustrated growl, I pushed my chair back and stood up. Moving so quickly made everything spin, and I grabbed the table to steady myself. "I wish everyone would stop blaming my journey when they believe I am disagreeable."

"Well, what else could it be?"

This time, it was my turn to stare at him. "Can you not guess? You know everything that has happened since I returned home. I learned of my mother's injury and poor health. I found myself expected to court and marry a silly, disagreeable chit of a girl for whom I have no fond regard. I have been shot. With all of this, everyone expects me to behave as though nothing is amiss."

"Do not speak of Miss Ramsey in such terms!"

If I had not been in such pain, I would have thrown my hands in the air. "Even now, you do not even try to understand. I am done with our friendship, Miles. When you begin to use your brain once again, I will be happy to speak with you."

Shock crossed Miles' face, and I walked out.

****

It had been years since I had been up to the nursery, but as Rosamund was insisting on improvements being made to many parts of the Hall, I felt the urge to go up before it was changed beyond recognition. It was, thankfully, the quietest area in Bywood Hall, now that there were no children in the house. I knew I would have some peace there.

Sadly, I discovered that the furniture had already been removed. The toys I remembered from my childhood were gone as well. I had expected for there to be some sort of odor that would reveal how unused it was, but there wasn't. Mrs. Jenson, the housekeeper, had been meticulous in keeping it clean.

I took a moment and just stood in the middle of the room, remembering my childhood. When I made to leave, I spotted a small object half hidden by the door. Walking over, I crouched down and picked it up.

"One of my wooden soldiers." I examined it, turning it over in my hand. It was one of twelve that I had often played with, right up until they disappeared when I was about seven years old. How often I had lined them up to fight some imaginary villain, especially when George had no interest in spending his time with me. "I wonder where you were hiding."

"I hid them."

Startled, I glanced over my shoulder. My older brother was leaning against the doorframe.

"I was fond of these toys," I said to him. "Why did you hide them from me?"

"I once overheard our father remarking to Mother how fortunate it was that you enjoyed playing soldier since you would likely become one. I didn't like the idea of my only brother going off to fight a real war and potentially being killed. So, I hid them and encouraged you to find some other pastime."

Amazed, I shook my head. "I cried about these for weeks."

"Yes, I know. I was disappointed that you were such a baby about it."

His tone was teasing, and we both laughed. "Too bad nothing else ever took," I said. There had been many games through the years that had entertained me, but I knew I would always look back on my toy soldiers as the most fun. My sisters' penchant for dolls had made them poor playmates for me, and George had enjoyed his lessons. "Maybe then Father wouldn't be so disappointed with me now."

"Or you'd be dead," George said bluntly. He walked over to look out the window. "You should have stuck to your books more."

Keeping the toy soldier in my hand, I joined him. "Perhaps. But you have to admit it was pretty dull stuff."

"Let's not argue, Luke."

I sent a glance at him. "If you are planning to berate me about my behavior as of late, I warn you that Philippa and Miles have already tried. Neither of them liked the outcome of such a subject."

George's jaw tensed, and he shook his head. "That they both tried should tell you something."

"Is that so?" I dropped my gaze to the soldier in my hand. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that you hid my toys from me. You always did want to control everything I did. Maybe I would have been better off becoming a soldier."

Spinning towards me, George grabbed my arm. "Don't say that," he said. I glanced at the tight grip he had on me and felt thankful he was on my left and not my right. "If anything had happened to you—"

"Everyone would have mourned the loss of 'the spare,' but you would have provided your own heir in no time." I pulled away from him. "What is this about?"

"Philly told me what you said to her last night."

I couldn't hold back a laugh. "She said she was going to Mama."

"I warned her long ago not to worry Mama about trivial matters," George said, waving his hand. "I want you to be honest with me. Do you honestly hate us all so much that you would live abroad?"

My reluctance to marry Phoebe was considered a 'trivial matter'? Hardly a flattering thought. "I don't hate anyone, George. I do, however, dislike everyone trying to tell me how to live my life."

"Then, you don't hate Phoebe?"

A frustrated growl rose in my throat, and I wrenched my arm out of his grip. "Phoebe Ramsey is a silly girl. It would be beyond useless to hate her."

"Yet you're courting her. Or is this rude behavior a ploy to force Phoebe to turn her attention elsewhere?"

Scoffing, I shook my head. There was that word again. Disagreeable was fast becoming a hated term I wished never to hear again. "Did Mama not speak to you about how you describe me? You only ever say I am 'disagreeable' when I choose to have my own opinion on a matter."

George's jaw tensed, and his gaze shifted away. "I should have guessed it would be useless to try shielding you from harm," he said, his tone on the verge of bitterness. "School made you independent, and your inheritance has only made your attitude worse."

Blowing out a breath, I wandered to the window. Looking down, I saw Philippa walking. "I am a grown man, George, and not a child with no notion of how to get on in the world. If I did not make my own decisions, what kind of man would I be? You and Father must realize this, and the sooner you do, the more peace we will have in this family."

"Decisions have consequences. You may be grown, Luke, but you behave like a child. You do not stay in one place, and you do not consider how others may view the matter."

The conversation felt as though it were going around and around, with no end in sight. Neither of us was willing to bend. Not ten minutes earlier, we had been having such a pleasant conversation. "Did you come up here for a reason, or was it simply to argue about something we will never see eye to eye on?"

"It is not my fault that you choose to argue about everything."

My fault. Somehow, it was always my fault. Maybe the pain throbbing, not only in my head but my arm, was making me lose my patience quicker, but I was done. "Well, this has been fun, but I need to put Phaeton through his paces now. He is up against Ward's Tesoro tomorrow."

A race I was not looking forward to.

Scowling, George shook his head. "I don't like this friendship with John Ward. He has a poor reputation. I don't think you've heard the stories of what he's done in London."

"If everyone is to be believed, I have an equally bad reputation among our neighbors," I said with more sharpness than I'd intended. I slipped the toy soldier that had sparked this whole thing into my pocket. "As I do not deserve it, I reserve my opinion on Ward until I know his character."

My words sent another flash of annoyance across George's face. I patted his shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner tonight."

"You're just going to run to our mother to complain some more, aren't you?"

Though I had planned on visiting Mama to apprise her of the situation, the implication that I only complained nettled my already frayed nerves. "I said I have to exercise Phaeton and that's exactly what I intend on doing."

As I strode out of the nursery, my muscles were tight. I tried to tell myself the situation wouldn't last much longer, but given how much had happened in the last week alone, the thought wasn't as reassuring as it should have been.

****

When I arrived at the stable, I knew I would not be able to ride Phaeton. The pain in my arm had grown with every jostling step I took. Instead, under the guise of desiring his opinion, I charged Geoff to take charge of my horse's exercise. Leaning against the fence, I watched with pride as they raced across the field.

If I lost the race, it would not be from any deficiency in Phaeton. The blame would rest solely with me.

"He's in fine form, Mister Lucas," Geoff said when he rode Phaeton back. The groom dismounted and handed Phaeton's reins over to a stableboy. The boy led my horse off to cool down. "He'll give that Tesoro a run for his money."

Pleased he agreed, I nodded. "He has never let me down in the past."

"Where will the race be taking place?"

I outlined the course Ward and I had agreed to: from the front of the Ramsey house to the road that stretched between Bywood Hall and Braglow and then circling back across the open country. Geoff nodded, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Shall I ride the course early tomorrow to ensure no mischief has been done?"

The question startled me. My first instinct was to protest that neither Ward nor I would do anything so dishonorable. Before I could voice those words, though, I recalled my mother's 'accident.' "If you would, Geoff," I said, keeping my voice low. "I shall give you my pistol to take with you. Just in case you need it."

"I appreciate it." Geoff shook his head. "I don't understand what's happened these past few months, Mister Lucas. First the mistress, then the break-in at Oakcrest, and now a highwayman? It just isn't right."

Surprised, I faced him. "Break-in? This is the first I've heard of this."

"It happened two weeks after the mistress and Sprite fell," Geoff said, sadness crossing his face. "Someone broke into Oakcrest and stole some valuables of Mr. Lamotte's. He dismissed the staff and brought new servants from London."

"That must have been a blow to many of the families in the neighborhood. Surely none of them stole from Lamotte."

"Nothing was ever proven."

Thoughtfully, I allowed my gaze to shift in the direction of Oakcrest. Was it possible the robbery had been an invention of Lamotte? I returned my attention to the old groom. "What was taken?"

"Silverware, candlestick holders, some food. A ring." Geoff glanced at the sky. "If there's nothing else, I'll be about my work."

With a nod, I dismissed him to his work. As I walked to the gardens, I thought about the new information. Had Lamotte invented the story to explain how he had lost Miles' ring? If that was the case, though, why had he not told Miles?

I thought everything had been sorted out, and now I couldn't be sure what this detail meant. I heaved a sigh. "Just typical."