illiam and Philip had told their mother that they would return in time for the ball she was hosting. But it was the day before the ball, and neither of them had made an appearance.

That afternoon, I sat in the drawing room dutifully working on some embroidery while Cecily and Louisa played a duet on the pianoforte. From my position near the window, I was the first to notice the carriage pulling up the drive. I tried not to give in to the hope and excitement bounding through me, but I recognized the carriage. It was the same one Betsy and I had ridden in to come here.

It was Philip’s carriage.

He had come home, after all, just in time for the ball, just as he’d promised. My hand shook, causing me to make an uneven stitch. I set aside my embroidery and took a steadying breath. What would I say to Philip? How would I know his feelings for me? And could I dare to offer him some encouragement, as Rachel had suggested?

I heard men’s voices outside the door; then the door opened and William walked in. He looked around the room and said something in greeting, but I hardly heard his words, I was so distracted by wanting to see Philip.

Lady Caroline looked up from her writing desk, and Rachel crossed the room to her husband with a smile. Cecily and Louisa stopped playing the pianoforte. I craned my neck, trying to see beyond William. What was taking Philip so long?

Then William asked, “Where is Philip?”

I stared at him.

“Philip?” Lady Caroline said. “Is he not with you?”

William frowned and looked at me, then quickly looked away again. “No. He said he had something else he had to do. But I thought he would have returned by now.”

We could give him no answers, as none of us knew that they had separated.

William shrugged off the mystery, saying, “I daresay he’ll be home tomorrow. I think he planned on being back for the ball.”

That he could dismiss Philip’s absence without telling us anything about where he might be or what he might be doing was completely unsatisfactory. William didn’t even offer any explanation as to why he looked at me and frowned. I worried that Philip had stayed away because he didn’t want to see me again. It was an unbearable thought.

I left the drawing room and asked the butler to find Betsy for me and send her to my room. I was pacing back and forth in front of my fireplace when Betsy threw open the door and ran into the room.

“What is it, miss?” she asked, out of breath.

“I need you to find out where Sir Philip is, and why he did not return with his brother.”

Her eyes lit up with a gleam of excitement mixed with determination. “If there is something to be learned, I will learn it, never fear, miss!” She flew out of the room.

Less than half an hour had passed when the door opened and Betsy ran back into the room. I was accustomed to her dramatic entrances, so it didn’t alarm me.

“What have you learned?” I asked.

“Nobody knows where Sir Philip has gone, miss.” She pressed a hand to her chest as she panted, trying to catch her breath. “The coachman said that he left Newmarket four days ago. He said that Sir Philip was acting strangely, hardly paying any attention to the races, and after two days of it, Mr. Wyndham said to him, ‘I can’t bear any more of your moping. Go win her.’ And that’s when Sir Philip left, not saying anything about where he would go or what he would do.” She stared at me with wide eyes. “What do you think of it all?”

I shook my head, dumbfounded. “I have no idea.” But I did know one thing. If Philip was going to win someone, I wanted it to be me.

Later that morning, I left the house with my sketchbook and made my way to the orchard; I was restless with impatience to see Philip and I could not sit inside with the other ladies another moment. I couldn’t bear to listen to Cecily fretting about her plans for Philip to propose at the ball, and how they would be ruined if he did not return in time.

I still didn’t know what I would say when I saw Philip again. But I had come to a conclusion: I would not run a different race simply because I was afraid of losing to Cecily. If Philip truly was the gentleman I thought him to be—and the one Rachel swore he was—then Cecily did not deserve him.

Sitting with my back against the trunk of a tree, I sketched a cluster of apples hanging from a thick branch. Concentrating on my subject, I initially did not notice the sound of footsteps in the grass. But suddenly a flash of a dark coat from the corner of my eye caught my attention. My heart leaped. It was Philip. He had come home in time for the ball, just as he had promised. And he had found me here, in the orchard, because he knew me so well.

What would I say to him? What would he say to me? I set aside my drawing and stood up, smoothing my skirt, then my hair. I didn’t need to pinch my cheeks, because my face was already warm with the nervousness that flooded me. He had to be nearby. I heard more rustling, and then I saw him emerge from the trees. I turned to him with a hesitant smile.

My smile immediately faltered. “Mr. Beaufort,” I said, disappointment coloring my voice.

He bowed. “Miss Daventry. You look so beautiful here, among the blossoms.”

“What are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound rude, but I had no patience for polite conversation right now.

He walked toward me, smiling, and said, “I have come to change your mind.” He grabbed me around the waist, pulled me to him, and pressed his mouth against mine.

I pulled my head back and pushed against his chest. “Unhand me at once!”

I was no match for his strength, though. He only pulled me more tightly against him.

“Listen to me carefully,” he whispered, his mouth too close to my face. “We are madly in love and we are going to run off together. By the time we’re discovered, your grandmother or father or whoever it is that cares about you will be happy to have me marry you. And then we will live very happily together on your fortune.”

I froze. He knew about my inheritance? “Fortune?” I laughed. “There is no fortune.”

His eyes glinted. “You think to make a fool of me? I know very well there is a fortune of forty thousand pounds waiting for you to inherit. My good uncle, Mr. Whittles, overheard your grandmother say as much while he was in her house.”

I remembered the day my grandmother had told me about the inheritance, and how I had found Mr. Whittles outside the door.

I shook my head. “It has not been made official. My grandmother will leave me nothing if you ruin my reputation.”

He smiled. “I think she will. But there is no need to ruin your reputation. Just accept my offer. Think of the enticements, my dear. I will shower you with gifts, give you everything you want, even your freedom, as long as you allow me my freedom in return.”

“You’ll give me everything I want with my own money?” I laughed at him. “You’re absurd.”

His hand gripped my waist so tightly it hurt. “Do not speak to me like that.”

I suddenly recognized that this was no game and that I was literally in the grip of an unscrupulous man.

“You don’t need to do this,” I said, fear pounding with every beat of my heart. “My grandmother will give you money, like a ransom. You don’t need to take me anywhere.” I smiled at him, but his eyes stayed hard.

“Whatever amount she offers, it cannot be more than your inheritance, and so I will have to reject that idea. Now. We are going to hold hands and run off to the carriage I have waiting down the road. If anyone sees us, they will believe we are two young people desperately in love.”

I shook my head. “You’re mad. I won’t go with you.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something gold, which he let slip through his fingers so that it dangled from a chain.

I gasped. “My locket!” My thoughts went reeling as I tried to make sense of what was before me. “You were the highwayman? The one who shot my coachman?”

He smiled and cold chills ran down my spine.

“What did you do to James? Why did he leave the inn?”

“Don’t worry about him. Once I learned from him exactly where you were going, I convinced him to leave the area and seek other employment. I thought it would be better if he wasn’t around to interfere with my plan. He was sensible.” He frowned. “Unlike you. I had hoped to convince you to marry me based on my own merits. But you were unable to appreciate what I had to offer. And so it has come to this.”

He put the locket back into his pocket and then pulled something else out. “You remember this, do you not?”

It was a pistol. I nodded my head, very carefully.

He smiled. “Good.” He slipped the gun back into his pocket. “Now, let’s be off, my love!”

He grabbed my hand and started to run through the orchard. I tried to pull my hand out of his grip and opened my mouth to scream. He stopped abruptly, clamped his hand over my mouth, and whispered, “It will be much simpler if you go along with the plan. You see, I have somebody waiting for you in the carriage, and I believe she is the one who shot at me last time. You do not want her to be hurt the way your coachman was hurt, do you?”

He had Betsy. More than my own life depended on my actions right now. I carefully shook my head.

He smiled. “I knew you would be able to see reason.” He pulled on my hand again, and this time I did not resist. Just beyond the orchard was a short path that cut through the woods. After several minutes, we emerged onto the road where a closed carriage stood, with the horses tied to a tree.

Mr. Beaufort opened the carriage door and bowed. “I hope you have a comfortable journey.”

I saw immediately that the carriage was empty.

“You lied to me!” I tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed me around the waist and threw me into the carriage. He leaned in and said, “I would not try to jump out if I were you. People have been known to have their brains dashed on the rocks when they try it.”

“Wait!” I lunged for the door, which he was already closing. “Where are you taking me?” I shouted.

He smiled at me through the window. I was beginning to suspect that he was mad. “To Dover, my love!”

I felt the carriage sway as he climbed up to the coachman’s box. He was going to drive, which meant there was not even a coachman who might come to my rescue. I flung myself at the door and yanked on the handle. It was broken. I tried the other door, but it did not have a handle at all.

I screamed in frustration and beat at the door. Mr. Beaufort had only been tricking me with that comment—giving me the hope of escape if I but had the courage to take the leap. I thought I heard him laugh, and then the carriage swayed, and I was being driven away, swiftly, with no one to hear my screams.