W ith a purposeful stride, Elsbeth left the stables, her boots crunching against the gravel path as she headed towards the manor.

The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and pine, but she barely noticed it.

Her mind was fixed on one thing: speaking to Alfred and uncovering the truth about her father’s death.

But what if he was involved?

The thought tightened her chest, but she refused to waver. She had spent too long standing idle, waiting for answers that would never come on their own. If she was to find the truth, she had to seize it, even if it meant putting herself in harm’s way.

As she reached the back entrance, she felt a firm yet gentle grip on her arm. Turning swiftly, she found herself face-to-face with Niles.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, concern etched on his features.

Elsbeth straightened her shoulders. “I do,” she replied. “I need to know the truth.”

His hand lingered for a moment before dropping to his side. “ Be careful,” he urged. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

Her lips parted, a reply hovering on the tip of her tongue. But before she could speak, Charles appeared beside them, his expression solemn.

“This is a terrible idea,” Charles said, his voice clipped. “You’re walking into a lion’s den without even knowing if there’s a lion inside.”

“I need to do something, Cousin,” Elsbeth retorted.

“I agree that action is necessary, but this is not the way,” he insisted, his gaze darting towards Niles as if seeking an ally.

Elsbeth placed a hand on Charles’s sleeve. “You must trust me. Besides, you and Niles will be right outside the door, ensuring I’m safe.”

Charles’s frown deepened as he turned his gaze to Niles. “You seem awfully familiar with Lord Westcott, calling him by his given name so freely.”

Niles offered a faint smile. “I gave her leave to do so.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Charles muttered, shaking his head.

Elsbeth’s voice grew determined. “I will be fine, Charles. You’ll see.”

“And if Alfred is behind the attempt on your life, as I suspect he is?” Charles pressed.

“Then you and Niles will keep me safe,” she stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Shall we?”

A footman stepped forward and opened the door, and Elsbeth walked inside without hesitation, though her heart was pounding. Her steps echoed in the quiet corridors as she made her way to Alfred’s study, each one a mixture of courage and fear.

Reaching the door, she peered inside and saw Alfred hunched over his desk, sifting through a stack of ledgers .

Elsbeth glanced back at Niles and nodded. She knocked lightly before stepping inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Alfred looked up from his work, a smile spreading across his face. “Good morning, Elsbeth,” he greeted, his tone warm but tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She forced a smile in return. “I was hoping to speak with you for a moment.”

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.

Elsbeth perched on the edge of the chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She inhaled deeply, steadying her nerves. She could do this. She had to do this.

But before she could speak, Alfred rose and crossed the room, closing the door with an ominous click.

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that. Now Niles and Charles wouldn’t hear if something went wrong.

Returning to his desk, Alfred folded his hands and studied her with an unreadable expression. “Now, what is it you wish to discuss?”

Her mind wavered, caught between caution and determination. “I… I was wondering…” she began, faltering under the weight of his gaze.

“You can be honest with me, Elsbeth,” Alfred encouraged.

The irony of his words almost made her laugh. Summoning her courage, she met his gaze. “I was wondering what you know about my father’s death.”

The smile faded from Alfred’s face, replaced by a guarded expression. “And why, may I ask, are you curious about that?”

Her heart raced as she scrambled for a plausible response. “I’ve been thinking about him lately,” she said, her voice steady despite the lie. “That’s all.”

“You shouldn’t be asking such questions,” Alfred replied, his tone carrying a subtle edge .

“Why not?” she challenged, her tone firmer now.

Alfred leaned back in his chair, studying her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. “Your father’s death was an unfortunate accident, nothing more.”

“Is that what you believe?” she pressed, unwilling to let him dismiss her so easily.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Alfred said. “It’s what the coroner concluded.”

Elsbeth’s resolve wavered for a moment, but she refused to back down. “Sometimes coroners are wrong.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor fracturing just slightly. “Be careful, Elsbeth. Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.”

Her pulse quickened at his words, but she held his gaze, refusing to let him see her fear. “So can secrets.”

Alfred studied her before finally breaking the silence. “Your father kept many secrets, secrets that nearly destroyed your family.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I am painfully aware of that fact.”

“It would be best,” Alfred continued, “if you let things lie as they are. It is much safer for you and for everyone if you stop asking questions.”

“Safer for me?” she repeated, her voice laced with suspicion. “Why would my safety be at risk simply for asking questions?”

“You must trust me on this,” Alfred replied.

A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “Trust you?” she echoed. “You cannot seriously expect me to do that.”

His features softened, or perhaps they feigned softness, as if he were genuinely concerned. “I only want what is best for you and your mother,” he offered.

Elsbeth felt a surge of anger rising within her, her hands tightening into fists on her lap. “Please don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you care about me,” she said, her words biting.

He blinked, clearly taken aback, though whether by her words or the truth of them, she couldn’t tell. “Of course I care for you. You are my—” he hesitated before finishing awkwardly, “stepdaughter.”

Her lips twitched with the urge to roll her eyes. The word sounded forced, as if it didn’t sit comfortably in his mouth.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot,” he started. “But I had hoped we might forge a cordial relationship, if not something more.”

Her anger flared again, and she leaned forward, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. “You mean because you married my mother mere days after the mourning period for my father was over?”

Alfred’s sigh was heavy, his shoulders sagging slightly. “We waited until the appropriate time for mourning.”

“And what of the scandal it caused?” Elsbeth countered. “You think that was appropriate?”

Alfred arched a brow. “I daresay the scandal pales in comparison to what your father’s secrets unleashed upon your family.”

Her back went rigid. “Perhaps,” she admitted, “but marrying my mother didn’t improve anything. If anything, it only fanned the flames of gossip and judgment.”

Alfred leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable again. “I am merely a merchant, Elsbeth,” he said, his tone quieter now. “But I do love your mother. You must believe that.”

She regarded him with a mix of skepticism and weariness. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she admitted.

He rubbed his temple as if her words had struck a nerve. “I know what your mother sacrificed to be with me,” he remarked. “And I pray every day that the good in our union outweighs the bad. ”

Elsbeth’s chest tightened at his words. Was he being genuine? Or was this another carefully constructed act?

“You speak of love and sacrifice,” she said slowly. “But what does that mean when shrouded in secrecy?”

Alfred’s jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, a crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. “Some truths,” he said carefully, “are more dangerous than lies.”

A sharp knock echoed through the room, interrupting their conversation.

“Enter,” Alfred ordered, his eyes locked firmly on hers, as if daring her to look away.

The door creaked open, and Charles stepped inside, his gaze immediately finding Elsbeth. “I came to inform Elsbeth that breakfast is ready to be served,” he said.

Breakfast?

Was that the best excuse Charles could come up with?

Elsbeth rose gracefully from her chair, masking her irritation with a polite smile. “I do enjoy a good breakfast,” she said. “Thank you for informing me.”

Alfred stood as well, buttoning his waistcoat with measured movements. “Please inform your mother that I will be skipping breakfast this morning. I have pressing matters to attend to,” he said, gesturing towards the desk.

Elsbeth tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Very well.”

Alfred held her gaze as he added, “And Elsbeth… remember what we discussed.”

“I won’t forget,” she replied.

“Good,” he said curtly before retaking his seat and flipping open the ledger, his focus shifting as if dismissing her entirely.

As she stepped out of the study, she caught both Niles’s and Charles’s questioning gazes. Pressing a finger to her lips, she gestured towards the nearby parlor, her steps purposeful yet silent.

Once inside the parlor, she closed the door behind them with deliberate care and turned to face the two men. “Alfred knows more about my father’s death than he’s letting on,” she announced.

“What did he say?” Charles asked.

Elsbeth let out a groan. “Nothing substantial. He cautioned me to stop asking questions, but he didn’t reveal anything useful.”

Niles stepped closer, his concern evident in the way his eyes searched hers. “Did he threaten you?”

“Not directly. He only said he hopes we can have a ‘cordial relationship,’” she replied.

Charles scoffed. “That is not likely to happen. He’s more focused on keeping his secrets than forming any semblance of a family bond.”