Not My Idea (A Gentleman of Misfortune Book One (Rough Draft))

Chapter Eighteen

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.