“That would be lovely,” Elsbeth replied.

“I’ll see to the arrangements,” Clara said with a nod before slipping out of the room.

Alone, Elsbeth lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the morning replayed in her mind. She longed for rest, but her thoughts refused to quiet. She loved her cousin; she knew he loved her in return. So why was she questioning whether he’d ever hurt her?

Drat.

Niles had gotten into her head, planting seeds of doubt.

Niles sat in the darkened coach, the gentle sway of the conveyance doing little to settle his restless thoughts.

Across from him, his sister Eugenie stared out the window, her face a mixture of curiosity and contemplation, while Aunt Margaret remained silent beside her.

He was grateful for the quiet, though he doubted it would last.

Sure enough, Aunt Margaret soon broke the stillness. “I am so pleased that you two are friends with Elsbeth. She’s such a delightful young woman.”

Niles bristled slightly, careful to keep his expression neutral. “We tolerate one another.”

Eugenie smirked, turning away from the window to fix him with a knowing look. “You two do more than tolerate each other.”

“Fine,” he admitted reluctantly. “We are… friends. But if there are stages of friendship, we’re at stage one. It’s barely worth mentioning.”

“I’d say Elsbeth and I are at stage five. I find her to be utterly charming,” Eugenie said.

Niles pressed his lips together, unwilling to prolong the conversation.

He didn’t want to talk about Elsbeth—not when thoughts of her already consumed him more than he cared to admit.

Thankfully, the coach slowed and stopped in front of the manor.

He exited first, stepping onto the gravel drive, and turned to help Eugenie and Aunt Margaret down.

As they approached the entrance, the main door opened, and they were ushered inside by the butler.

The drawing room was warm and inviting, with a fire crackling in the hearth.

Elsbeth sat on the settee, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

When she turned and saw him, her eyes seemed to light up. Or perhaps it was his imagination.

“Lord Westcott,” she greeted with a small smile.

“Lady Elsbeth,” he replied, inclining his head.

She rose and closed the distance between them. “I have the key,” she whispered.

Niles’s brows lifted in surprise. “How?”

“My lady’s maid retrieved it for me,” she said, a glint of excitement in her eyes. “My stepfather is out. Shall we open his desk?”

“Now?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Elsbeth asked with an arched brow.

Niles glanced back at his aunt and sister, who were deep in conversation and paying them no mind. “Very well. How do you propose we sneak away?”

Elsbeth’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “I have an idea.”

“Is it a good idea?”

“I believe so.”

“Then I’ll trust you,” he said, though he couldn’t help teasing.

Her smile widened. “That’s rather bold of you. But sometimes the simplest plans are the most effective.”

There was something about her smile, so unguarded and genuine, that made it hard for him to look away. It drew him in, stirring something he wasn’t entirely ready to name.

Raising her voice, Elsbeth asked, “Lord Westcott, would you care to accompany me to the study to select a book?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Niles replied, hoping not to sound too eager.

“Wonderful,” Elsbeth acknowledged.

As they left the drawing room, Niles followed her down the corridor. “What’s the plan once we’re there?” he asked.

“I’ll search the desk,” Elsbeth said. “You keep watch.”

“I can manage that.” His gaze drifted to her bandaged arm. “How is your injury?”

“It aches now and then, especially at night,” she admitted. “I do not recommend getting shot.”

“Duly noted.”

They reached the study, and Elsbeth paused at the door. “Stay here and alert me if anyone approaches. ”

“Understood.”

Taking a deep breath, she added, almost to herself, “This is it. Let’s hope I was right, or this will be a colossal waste of time.”

Niles placed a reassuring hand on her sleeve. “No matter what you find, you’re following your convictions. That’s what matters.”

“But I don’t want to be wrong.”

“No one does,” he replied. “But sometimes, being wrong leads to answers we didn’t know we needed. Now go, before we’re caught.”

Elsbeth didn’t hesitate. She slipped inside the study and crouched behind the desk, pulling open the drawers. Niles kept watch, his ears straining for any approaching footsteps. A gasp from inside the study made him turn.

“What is it?” he asked, stepping into the room.

Elsbeth held up a file, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “It’s a collection of clippings from the newssheets. They are all about my father’s death.”

“All of them?” Niles asked, moving to her side.

She flipped through the articles. “It seems so. Why would Alfred keep these?”

Niles took the file, scanning its contents. “Did your stepfather know your father?”

“I don’t think so,” Elsbeth said, her voice uncertain. “I’ll have to ask my mother.”

Placing the clippings back into the file, Niles asked, “Did you find anything else?”

Elsbeth shook her head, her shoulders sagging. “No. Just this. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Keep looking,” he urged. “I’ll return to stand watch.”

Elsbeth nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. “There has to be something else here. There has to be.”

Niles returned to his post outside the study. As he scanned the corridor, the steady sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. He straightened as Mr. Stockton appeared, his face betraying a hint of curiosity.

Clearing his throat loudly, Niles greeted him. “Good evening, Mr. Stockton.”

Mr. Stockton stopped in front of him. “Good evening, Lord Westcott. Dare I ask why you are loitering outside my study?”

Niles offered a casual smile, though his heart beat a little faster. He hoped Elsbeth had managed to restore everything to its rightful place. “Lady Elsbeth is collecting a book from your study. I thought it prudent to remain in the corridor, for propriety’s sake.”

“Ah,” Mr. Stockton replied.

Before either could say more, Elsbeth emerged from the study, holding a book in her hand. Her expression was serene, but Niles caught the subtle tension in her posture.

“I found the book I was searching for,” she announced, holding it up.

Mr. Stockton glanced at the book in her hand, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “Farming machinery? I didn’t realize that topic was of interest to you.”

Elsbeth didn’t appear fazed. “Yes, I find it utterly captivating,” she said with a practiced smile.

Mr. Stockton chuckled. “I must admit, I found that particular book rather dull, but to each their own.”

The distant chime of the dinner bell echoed through the manor, breaking the moment. Mr. Stockton glanced over his shoulder at the study door before pulling it shut. “It seems I won’t have time to work before supper,” he remarked, gesturing down the hall. “Shall we?”

They began walking towards the drawing room, the corridor quiet except for the sound of their footsteps. The silence stretched until Elsbeth broke it.

“It’s a fine evening, isn’t it?” she asked .

Niles bit back a groan. The weather? Of all topics? Still, he decided to play along. “Yes, it is a fine evening indeed.”

Mr. Stockton shifted his attention to Niles. “How long do you plan to stay in our village, Lord Westcott?”

“My sister was hoping for a fortnight,” Niles replied. “But, of course, it depends on whether my aunt grows tired of us.”

Mr. Stockton chuckled lightly. “I’m sure she’s enjoying the company. It’s not every day she has visitors from London.”

Niles nodded. “It has been a welcome reprieve, though my responsibilities at my estate call for my return soon.”

“I can only imagine the weight of those responsibilities, being a lord and all,” Mr. Stockton said with a hint of admiration.

They arrived in the entry hall, where the rest of the household was assembled. Lady Isabella watched their approach with a warm smile. “Dinner is ready to be served,” she announced.

Elsbeth held up the book. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just place this in the drawing room.” Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared into the adjacent room.

When she returned, Niles offered his arm, and together they followed the others towards the dining room. As they walked, he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Did you find anything else?”

Elsbeth let out a quiet puff of frustration. “No.”

“What were you hoping to find?” he pressed.

Her gaze flickered away. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But I was hoping for something that would prove my stepfather is not who he claims to be.”

“Perhaps he isn’t hiding anything,” Niles suggested.

Elsbeth’s lips tightened. “Everyone is hiding something.”

Niles came to a stop, turning to face her. “Is it so hard to believe that your stepfather might not be hiding anything? That this suspicion might be misplaced? ”

Her eyes burned with defiance. “Then why would he have all those clippings about my father’s death?”

“I can’t answer that,” Niles replied. “But there might be a simple explanation. Perhaps one you haven’t considered yet.”

Elsbeth’s expression was a mix of frustration and doubt. “No, I am right about my stepfather. I have to be.”

Her voice held an edge of desperation, and Niles studied her for a moment, noticing the tension in her shoulders and the fire in her eyes. She wasn’t just trying to convince him, but rather she was trying to convince herself.

“Elsbeth…” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I understand why you feel this way. But sometimes, our emotions can cloud our judgment.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “This isn’t just a feeling. He’s hiding something, I know it.”

Niles sighed. “And if you’re wrong?”

She flinched at his words, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before rising again. “I can’t afford to be wrong,” she whispered. “If I am, then everything I’ve done… everything I’ve risked… would have been for nothing.”

Her vulnerability struck a chord within him. Niles couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy, but alongside it was a growing unease. Was this pursuit of the truth truly worth the potential cost?

“You’re certain about this, then?” he asked.

She lifted her chin with stubborn resolve. “I am.”

Niles hesitated, glancing down the corridor towards the dining room where the rest of the party waited. He had promised to help her, and he was a man of his word. But doubt gnawed at the edges of his conviction.

Was this truly the right course of action? Or were they barreling towards a truth that might shatter more than it would heal ?

“Very well,” he finally said. “I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. But promise me one thing, Elsbeth.”

Her brow furrowed. “What is that?”

“If it turns out you’re wrong—if your stepfather’s secrets aren’t what you think they are—promise me you’ll let this go. Promise me you’ll allow yourself to move on.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but she stopped herself. After a long, tense moment, she nodded. “Fine,” she said. “But I won’t be wrong.”

Niles didn’t reply, but as they resumed walking, a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind. Was he helping her uncover the truth or merely enabling a dangerous obsession?