Page 25
Story: An Improbable Scheme (Courting the Unconventional #1)
T he moonlight seeped through the curtains as Elsbeth entered the back door of her manor, her footsteps muffled against the stone floor.
Her mind raced as she ascended the servants’ stairs, eager to reach her bedchamber without anyone noticing her late return.
However, the moment she opened the door, she froze.
Charles.
He was sitting on her bed, his expression thunderous. His penetrating gaze bore into her, and his voice was sharp. “Where have you been?”
Elsbeth closed the door behind her, her hand lingering on the handle as she prepared herself. “I can explain.”
“Can you?” he asked, his tone dry. “I’m all ears.”
She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, trying to maintain composure. “I went to the village to see who Alfred was meeting with?—”
Charles threw his hands up. “Not this again! This obsession of yours is becoming more than troublesome.” His voice rose with each word. “You can’t just go to the village alone at night...” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “You were alone, weren’t you? ”
Elsbeth hesitated, knowing her answer would only fuel his anger. “I was with Lord Westcott.”
Charles’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Are you mad?” he barked. “Traipsing around in the dead of night with Lord Westcott? Have you lost all sense of propriety? You must think of your reputation!”
“My reputation is already in tatters,” she replied, her voice tinged with defiance. “Why should it matter?”
His gaze softened momentarily, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t truly believe that, do you?” He stood, pacing the room. “You still have a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds?—”
She cut him off. “And who would want me? A fortune hunter?”
Charles stopped pacing and turned to face her. “You don’t know what the future holds,” he said. “But you must stop actively ruining your prospects.”
“I am doing no such thing,” she argued. “My stepfather is not who he claims to be. He was meeting with Mr. Strother at the coaching inn.”
Charles’s brows knitted together. “That’s impossible. Mr. Strother returned to Town a few days ago.”
“I know what I saw,” Elsbeth said. “Why would Alfred meet with Mr. Strother in secrecy?”
Charles crossed his arms. “It was hardly secret if they were meeting at the coaching inn in plain view of anyone who cared to look.”
“Yes, but?—”
“This has to stop!” Charles shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet room. “I think it’s best if I take you away from here for a while. We’ll leave for my country estate tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “No, I can’t go. Not now.”
“And why is that?” he demanded. “And don’t say it’s because of Alfred.”
The thought of leaving Niles tightened her chest, but she couldn’t admit that. Instead, she scrambled for another excuse. “What about my mother’s soiree? We can’t leave before then.”
Charles sighed heavily, clearly displeased. “Fine. But we’ll depart at first light the next morning.” He strode to the door. “This is for your own good.”
Elsbeth’s temper flared. “My own good?” she repeated. “You claim to be protecting my reputation, yet here you stand—in my bedchamber. Alone.”
He barely spared her a glance as he reached for the doorknob. “We are cousins.”
She scoffed, folding her arms. “Did you not propose marriage to me only a few days ago?” Her sharp tone halted him mid-motion. “Furthermore, what will the ton think when I take up residence with you in Town? Do you honestly believe they will accept such an arrangement without question?”
“My mother resides with me. That should be enough to appease the gossips.”
Elsbeth frowned, her mind racing. He was being infuriatingly pragmatic, as always. But she wasn’t done yet. “Don’t you want to know what secrets my stepfather is keeping?” she asked, her voice laced with challenge.
Charles turned, his expression both weary and exasperated. “Alfred is a good man, and you’d see that if you took two seconds to get to know him.”
“I know he’s hiding things?—”
“Enough!” Charles’s shout silenced her. “You’re hellbent on proving Alfred is a terrible person. For what purpose? Your mother is happy for once. Let her have that.”
“My mother was happy with my father,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. She needed to believe that was true.
Charles huffed. “There’s so much you don’t know.”
“Then tell me.”
“No,” he replied. “I’m trying to protect you. I don’t want to ruin the memories you have of your father. ”
Elsbeth straightened her shoulders. “I’m not a child. I can handle the truth.”
“Can you?” Charles asked, stepping closer to her, his expression grave. “Well, here’s some truth for you: Alfred is twice the man your father ever was.”
“That is not true!” she shot back, her voice breaking.
Charles’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m sorry, but it is. In time, you’ll see that.”
Elsbeth shook her head, her voice trembling with conviction. “Alfred has secrets, and I will uncover them. You’ll see he’s deceived you all.”
Charles sighed deeply, placing a hand on her sleeve, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “This is my fault. I was so consumed with running the estate that I failed you. You deserved so much more.”
Her back grew rigid. “I’m not wrong. Niles believes me.”
“Niles?” Charles’s brow furrowed in displeasure. “You are calling him by his given name?”
She realized her mistake too late. “He gave me leave to. We are friends.”
His jaw clenched. “You need to stay away from Lord Westcott.”
“Why would I do that?” she countered. “He’s the only one who believes me, the only one who’s stood by me.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Charles said.
“Niles won’t hurt me.”
Charles’s eyes narrowed, his voice hard and cutting. “Instead of talking you off a cliff, he’s encouraging you to jump. That’s no friend.”
Elsbeth’s lips pressed into a firm line. “You’re wrong.”
“There can be no future between you and Lord Westcott. You do realize that, don’t you?” he asked, his gaze unyielding.
She stiffened at his words. “I never said anything about having a future with Niles. ”
“No, you haven’t,” Charles replied. “But your actions suggest otherwise. Lord Westcott will eventually leave, Elsbeth. He’ll return to his estate and his life, leaving you behind.”
She turned her face away, unwilling to let him see the flicker of pain in her eyes. “I am well aware of that fact.”
“Good,” Charles said firmly. “Because Lord Westcott is not the man I envisioned for you.”
She was done with this conversation. It was going nowhere, and she wanted to be alone. “Goodnight, Charles,” she said curtly.
He hesitated, as if he had more to say, but eventually stepped back. “In time, you’ll see that leaving with me is the right thing to do.”
“I doubt that,” she murmured under her breath.
Shaking his head, Charles exited her bedchamber, finally leaving her in peace.
Elsbeth waited until the sound of his footsteps faded before walking over to her dressing table.
She opened the top drawer and retrieved Niles’s pocket watch.
Running her fingers over the smooth surface, she let out a sigh.
She needed to return it to him. But a small, selfish part of her wanted to keep it.
To have something of his, a tangible reminder of the time they had shared.
She cared for Niles far more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.
But Charles was right about one thing: Niles would leave.
He would return to his world, and she couldn’t allow herself to pine after him.
Resolving herself, she decided she would return the pocket watch tomorrow.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and her brow furrowed. Had Charles come back to argue further? Before she could answer, the door opened, and Clara slipped inside.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” her lady’s maid began, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Lord Bedford was insistent that I tell him where you’d gone. ”
Elsbeth placed the pocket watch back in the drawer and gave Clara a reassuring look. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Clara winced, wringing her hands. “I may have been eavesdropping outside your door. I’ve never seen Lord Bedford so furious.”
“He wants me to leave with him for his estate after my mother’s soiree.”
“That is a good thing, isn’t it?” Clara asked, stepping closer. “You’ll be leaving this place, going back to your home.”
Elsbeth shook her head, a tinge of sadness in her voice. “It’s not my home anymore, Clara. Not really.”
Clara’s brows knitted together in concern. “What do you want to do?”
Sinking into the chair at her dressing table, Elsbeth replied, “I want to uncover my stepfather’s secrets, but I fear I’ve run out of time.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Clara suggested cautiously as she picked up a hairbrush, moving to stand by her.
Elsbeth’s shoulders slumped. “My poor mother. She’ll continue to be deceived by a man she claims to love.”
Clara carefully removed the pins from Elsbeth’s chignon and began brushing her hair with gentle strokes. “By all accounts, your mother seems happy with him. Perhaps there’s no deception at all.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Elsbeth countered.
A comfortable silence stretched between them until Clara broke it hesitantly. “Do you not want to leave because of Lord Westcott?”
“Lord Westcott has nothing to do with this,” Elsbeth lied, but the faint warmth that spread across her cheeks betrayed her.
Clara set the brush down and reached for a delicate lace cap. “You have been spending a lot of time with him lately. ”
“We are merely friends.”
“Pardon me for saying so, but you two appear much closer than just friends.”
Elsbeth remained silent as Clara carefully placed the cap on her head, adjusting it to sit just right. “Niles is helping me uncover my stepfather’s secrets. That is all.”
Clara tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “But why did he agree to help you in the first place?” she asked. “This was never his fight, yet he’s been by your side since he arrived.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 25 (Reading here)
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