The room went still. For a moment, Charles simply looked at her, studying her as though she were some particularly stubborn riddle.

Then, to her frustration, he smiled faintly as if her refusal were nothing more than inconsequential.

“I think,” he said evenly, “it would be wise for you to truly consider it.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could speak, her mother interjected. “That is most generous of you, Charles,” she said with a pointed look at Elsbeth. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

Elsbeth turned to her mother, disbelief tightening her chest. “Generous?” she repeated, barely able to keep the anger from her voice. “This entire discussion is absurd. You would have me marry my cousin?”

Her mother met her gaze with a mixture of weariness and impatience. “Elsbeth,” she said, “Charles is offering you stability. Do not be so quick to dismiss it.”

“Stability?” Elsbeth scoffed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “At what cost? I would lose every ounce of self-respect I possess. I will not marry him.”

Charles took a step back. “I am not here to force your hand, Elsbeth,” he said. “But I urge you to think about this rationally. Time may not offer you another opportunity.”

“I have thought about it,” Elsbeth shot back, her voice cracking with emotion. “And my answer remains the same. No.”

Her mother sighed heavily, sitting back down as if the weight of the conversation had become too much to bear. “You are being difficult,” she murmured, her disappointment palpable.

Charles bowed stiffly. “I will take my leave for now,” he said, glancing between Elsbeth and her mother. “But know this, I only wish to help you.”

Elsbeth watched as Charles and Mr. Strother departed the room, leaving behind a lingering tension that seemed to settle into every corner of the space. The door closed, and she turned to her mother. “How could you entertain this?”

“Because,” her mother started, “you have no other prospects. Charles is offering you a future.”

“A future?” Elsbeth whispered, tears burning at the back of her eyes. “Or a prison?”

Her mother looked away, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to answer.

Elsbeth needed a moment alone. She turned on her heel and left the drawing room without saying another word.

Niles entered the dining room and noted the scene before him. His aunt was sipping her tea while Eugenie, as always, was engrossed in a book even as she absentmindedly nibbled on a scone.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

Eugenie glanced up, her finger keeping her place in the book. “Good morning, Brother.”

Niles pulled out the chair beside her, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “A book at the breakfast table? Really, Eugenie? I can’t believe Aunt Margaret allows such scandalous behavior.”

Aunt Margaret laughed. “A young lady who carries a book is never bored.”

“Well, my mother would be rolling over in her grave to see such a thing,” Niles remarked.

“Rules are far more relaxed in the countryside,” Aunt Margaret replied with a knowing look, “and, dare I say, far more sensible.”

“Not that relaxed,” Niles argued.

Aunt Margaret lifted her brow. “I understand,” she began, her tone shifting with interest, “that you had quite the adventure last night.”

Niles met his aunt’s gaze. “Adventure?”

His sister lowered her book, clearly amused. “Oh, do not act coy. I told Aunt Margaret all about your moonlit meeting with the highwaywoman.”

He groaned softly, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. “Eugenie, must you discuss my business over breakfast?”

Eugenie shrugged, not looking the least bit repentant. “It isn’t my fault you have an odd fascination with criminals.”

“Fascination is a strong word,” Niles retorted, though even he couldn’t deny his strange preoccupation with the masked woman. “We spoke briefly until the constable showed up and scared her off.”

Aunt Margaret looked thoroughly unimpressed. “A conversation with a thief? Truly riveting, I am sure.”

Niles picked up his fork and began to prod at the food placed before him. “It is more complicated than that. She told me she was searching for something specific.”

“And you believe her?” Aunt Margaret asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he countered. Why did he feel compelled to defend the highwaywoman?

His aunt leaned forward. “Perhaps because she is a thief who robs coaches at gunpoint? You should be more wary of charming stories spun by desperate people.”

Niles held her gaze. “I don’t think she is desperate. If anything, she is… determined.”

“Well, it is a good thing I spoke to Constable West about this nonsense. If he hadn’t intervened last night, I half-expect you would have ended up at Gretna Green with this highwaywoman,” Aunt Margaret said.

Niles huffed. “I assure you, I have no intention of marrying a highwaywoman.”

“That is a relief,” Eugenie chimed in. “Though you must admit, it would make quite the story.”

“Enough,” Niles muttered, rubbing his temple. “Can we discuss something else, please?”

Aunt Margaret appeared ready to press the subject further when the butler entered the room. “Lady Elsbeth has come to call, my lady.”

A pleased smile replaced Aunt Margaret’s solemn expression. “Ah, that does save us a trip to her manor today. Please inform Lady Elsbeth that we will join her momentarily.”

Rising, Eugenie remarked, “I wonder what brings her here so early. Do you suppose something is wrong?”

“No doubt it is merely a social visit,” Aunt Margaret assured her. “Lady Elsbeth frequently joins me for walks in the gardens in the morning.”

Niles stood as well, his movements slow and deliberate to hide the conflicted emotions swirling within him. He told himself it was mere curiosity that made him eager to see Lady Elsbeth. Nothing more. But the woman occupied his thoughts far too often for his liking.

Eugenie gave him an expectant look as she tucked her book under her arm. “Are you coming?”

Feigning indifference, Niles placed his napkin down. “I suppose I shall. I wasn’t particularly hungry anyway.”

“That is convenient,” Eugenie teased. “I do hope Lady Elsbeth brought along a book to discuss.”

“Which book?” he asked, but he already suspected he knew the answer.

“Does it matter?” Eugenie asked with a smile .

Niles chuckled as they followed their aunt down the hall. “You are incorrigible.”

Eugenie laughed, just as he had intended. But Niles could no longer focus on her chatter. His thoughts returned to Lady Elsbeth. Last time they spoke, she had a vulnerability about her that captivated him.

As they entered the drawing room, Niles noticed Lady Elsbeth standing by the window, her back to them.

The soft light streaming through the glass highlighted the pale pink gown she wore.

It was an absurd dress with far too many frills and ridiculous puffy sleeves.

Still, it did little to distract from her beauty.

She turned at the sound of their approach, and Niles knew that something was wrong. Her brow was furrowed, and the usual fire in her eyes was replaced with something more fragile—worry, perhaps, or unease.

Before he could stop himself, Niles asked, “What is wrong?”

Lady Elsbeth’s lips tightened, and she tilted her chin slightly, her voice clipped. “Why do you suppose something is wrong?”

Niles faltered. “You seem rather…” He searched for the right word, then settled on one. “Preoccupied.”

“I assure you, I am perfectly fine,” she said firmly, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Aunt Margaret gestured towards the settee. “Come, my dear. Sit with us and tell us what troubles you.”

Lady Elsbeth hesitated, then moved stiffly towards the settee. Niles noticed the faint grimace that crossed her features as she lowered herself onto the cushion.

Was she in pain?

Once they were all situated, Eugenie reached for the teapot and poured four cups of tea. She extended one to Lady Elsbeth.

“Thank you,” Lady Elsbeth murmured .

They all sat in silence, sipping their tea, until Aunt Margaret cleared her throat. “Now, what has you so troubled?”

Lady Elsbeth exhaled softly. “My cousin, Charles, the Earl of Bedford, came to visit.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Aunt Margaret exclaimed.

“No, not delightful,” Elsbeth countered. “He has a ridiculous notion that we should marry so he can use my dowry to save his estate.”

Aunt Margaret blinked in surprise. “But he is your cousin.”

“As Charles reminds me, he is my second cousin, once removed,” Lady Elsbeth corrected with evident disdain.

Eugenie moved to the edge of her seat. “What did you say?”

“I told him no, but he thinks I will change my mind,” Lady Elsbeth replied. “Which I won’t. My mother even invited him to stay at our manor.”

Niles set his teacup down, hiding the sudden discomfort that rose within him. The thought of Lady Elsbeth marrying anyone—much less her cousin—left an inexplicable weight on his chest.

Lady Elsbeth continued. “What is worse is that my mother isn’t opposed to the idea,” she shared. “She thinks it might be my only chance to receive an offer of marriage.”

“That is awful,” Eugenie muttered. “You can’t marry your cousin.”

“I know,” Lady Elsbeth said.

Aunt Margaret turned to Niles, her sharp gaze landing on him. “What do you say about this, Niles?”

He gave her a blank look. “Why should my opinion matter?” he asked. “This is Lady Elsbeth’s decision, and hers alone.”

Rather than expressing gratitude, Elsbeth shot him a glare, her words dripping with sarcasm. “How generous of you, my lord.”

Niles frowned, utterly perplexed by her reaction. What had he done now? He thought they were past this disdain for one another.

Eugenie reached for the teapot and refilled Lady Elsbeth’s teacup. “More tea? Tea makes everything better.”

“Tea won’t help this,” Lady Elsbeth said.

Aunt Margaret leaned forward, reaching out to lightly touch Lady Elsbeth’s left sleeve. In response, Lady Elsbeth flinched and let out an audible gasp.

Aunt Margaret withdrew her hand. “Is something the matter?”

Lady Elsbeth quickly straightened in her seat. “It is nothing. I fell off my horse yesterday. My left arm is just a bit tender.”

“Oh, my poor girl!” Aunt Margaret exclaimed. “That must have been dreadful. Is that why you are wearing that hideous dress?”

Lady Elsbeth smoothed her hands over the frills. “Yes. Unfortunately, it is the only gown I own with sleeves full enough to hide the bandage.”

At the word bandage , Niles’s attention sharpened. He set his teacup down with deliberate care. “A bandage? For a bruise?” he asked.

Lady Elsbeth turned her gaze towards him, her eyes flashing with barely concealed annoyance. “Not that it is any of your business, my lord, but when I fell, I landed on a jagged rock, causing a scrape.”

Niles frowned. Something about her explanation didn’t sit right with him. A rock? A scrape? It seemed far too mild for the visible pain she’d displayed when Aunt Margaret had barely touched her arm. He leaned back in his chair, observing her carefully. “Where, exactly, did you fall?”

Before Lady Elsbeth could answer, Aunt Margaret turned a scolding look on him. “Niles, really. Why are you interrogating the poor girl like she’s a prisoner at the Tower of London?”

Lady Elsbeth forced a weak smile. “It’s all right, Lady Margaret. I fell along a path in the woodlands. It was near dusk.”

“Near dusk?” Niles pressed, a suspicion flickering in his mind. He kept his voice even, but his sharp eyes were locked on her face, searching for any sign of deception. “Why were you out riding so late?”

Lady Elsbeth’s hands tightened where they rested in her lap. “It doesn’t matter why, my lord,” she replied curtly. “The question is irrelevant.”

“I disagree,” Niles countered. “It’s rather odd, wouldn’t you say, that you only injured your left arm after a fall? Most riders would have more extensive bruising or at least a few scrapes elsewhere.”

Lady Elsbeth’s back grew rigid. “I suppose I was spared that fate.”

Niles tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as a thought occurred to him. Could Lady Elsbeth be the highwaywoman? The idea was absurd, and yet it seemed entirely probable.

He pressed on, his tone deceptively casual. “Tell me, Lady Elsbeth, were you perhaps riding in the woodlands in the dead of night?”

A flicker of something—shock, guilt, fear—passed across her features, so brief that most wouldn’t have caught it. But Niles did.

“Why would I ever do such a foolish thing?” she replied.

Eugenie interjected. “I agree with Lady Elsbeth. No sane young woman would venture into the woodlands at night. That would be madness.”

Niles ignored his sister. He leaned forward slightly, his tone hardening. “Then let me see your wound.”

Aunt Margaret gasped. “Niles! Have you lost your senses? Asking such a thing of a lady is entirely improper!”

Lady Elsbeth’s chin lifted. “I agree with Lady Margaret. It would be highly inappropriate for me to undress my arm for you.”

Niles paused, studying her carefully. “Who treated your injury?”

“Morton, our groom,” she replied, her voice tight with irritation. “He served in the Royal Army, and he has experience stitching wounds. I’m fortunate to have his skill at hand.”

“How very convenient.” Niles decided to try a different tactic. “I assume your mother was terribly worried?”

“I didn’t inform her. I saw no need to worry her over something so trivial,” Lady Elsbeth replied.

“How gracious of you,” Niles replied dryly, though his mind whirled with possibilities. Her explanation sounded plausible enough, but something about it rang false.

Aunt Margaret interrupted with an impatient shake of her head. “Dear heavens, Niles! You’re being positively unbearable this morning.” She turned to Lady Elsbeth. “I do apologize, my dear. I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

Niles rose abruptly, pushing back his chair with a scrape against the floor. “Forgive me, but I believe the stuffiness of the drawing room has clouded my judgment. A turn in the gardens might clear my head.” He turned his attention to Lady Elsbeth. “Would you care to accompany me, my lady?”

Lady Elsbeth held his gaze, her expression guarded. “It’s rather cold outside, my lord.”

“I would be happy to lend you my cloak,” Niles replied, unable to resist adding, “assuming, of course, that you’ll return it.”

Her lips pressed together, pulling downward at the corners. “You need not worry for your cloak, my lord. I have no desire to keep it.”

Just his pocket watch.

Niles extended his arm towards her. “Shall we?”

For a moment, she stared at his proffered hand. Then with a sigh, she placed her hand lightly in his. Niles couldn’t help but note the tension in her grip, as though she were bracing herself for battle. And perhaps she was.

He led her towards the door, his mind already plotting his next move. If Lady Elsbeth was the highwaywoman, he would find the proof. And if she wasn’t?

Well, then he had an entirely different problem.

Because either way, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her.