Her mother placed a hand on the door handle. She didn’t meet Elsbeth’s gaze, her voice quiet but heavy with warning. “Stop asking questions, Elsbeth. It will not end well for you.”

The ominous words sent a chill down Elsbeth’s spine, but she couldn’t relent now. “What do you mean by that? What won’t end well?”

Her mother’s hand tightened on the handle, her knuckles white. “Please, for once, do as you’re told. Leave this alone. I cannot risk losing you.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, Elsbeth saw the fear etched in her mother’s features. “What will happen to me, Mother? What are you so afraid of?”

Her mother didn’t respond. Instead, she opened the door and left, the sound of the door closing behind her echoing like a final warning.

Elsbeth stood there, her mind racing with unanswered questions and a growing sense of dread.

Something was very, very wrong, and she wouldn’t rest until she uncovered the truth.

Niles hadn’t slept a wink. The restless energy coursing through him refused to let his mind settle, and by the time the morning light streamed through his windows, he’d made a decision. He loved Elsbeth. There was no point denying it anymore, not to himself, not to anyone. He had to act.

Pulling on his jacket with determined resolve, he stepped into the corridor. He rehearsed his thoughts as he walked, though it was less a polished speech and more a jumble of emotions clamoring to be voiced.

As he descended the grand staircase, he found his aunt waiting near the main door, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“You’re going after her, aren’t you?” she asked, her tone filled with gentle encouragement.

“I am,” Niles admitted.

Her smile broadened, her eyes glistening with pride. “I knew it. I’ve seen how you look at her, how she looks at you. You and Elsbeth are a perfect match, even if you’re the last to see it.”

“I only hope she sees it too,” Niles said, pausing before her. “I’ve thought of a dozen ways to tell her, but what if it’s not enough?”

His aunt placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You are enough, Niles. Speak from the heart, and she will see that.”

“What if I can’t convince her to marry me?” Niles asked.

“Why would she turn you down?”

Niles adjusted the cuff of his sleeves as he replied, “Elsbeth can be rather stubborn at times. Besides, she has given me no indication that she favors me.”

Behind him, Eugenie’s teasing voice chimed in. “Brother, you must be blind if you think Elsbeth doesn’t already care for you.”

He turned, frowning at her smug expression. “Has she said something to you?”

“She didn’t have to,” Eugenie said, crossing her arms. “The way she looks at you is all the confirmation anyone would need. It is rather sickening if you ask me.” She softened her words with a smile.

“Our family’s reputation may suffer if I marry Elsbeth,” Niles pointed out. “You must prepare yourself for that.”

Eugenie rolled her eyes. “You’re an earl. Marry her, and Society will welcome her back with open arms. Stop using reputation as an excuse.”

“It’s not that simple,” Niles countered.

“Love rarely is,” Eugenie replied. “But it’s worth the complications, don’t you think?”

Before he could respond, his aunt interjected. “Go, Niles. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

Taking a steadying breath, he nodded. “Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it,” Eugenie said confidently. “Just don’t overthink it, and mess this up.”

Niles exited the manor and stepped into the awaiting coach. By the time the coach reached Elsbeth’s manor, he had abandoned any attempt to craft a perfect speech. Words could only go so far. It was his actions that would matter.

The coach came to a jerking stop and Niles stepped out. He headed up the stairs and knocked. The butler opened the door promptly, bowing slightly as he stepped aside. “Good morning, Lord Westcott. Please, come in.”

Niles stepped into the entry hall, his gaze scanning the familiar surroundings. He had barely taken two steps inside when Bedford’s unmistakably exasperated voice cut through the air.

“Good gads, Westcott, you’re here again? Don’t you have anywhere else you could be?” Bedford asked as he emerged from a side room.

Ignoring the jab, Niles replied evenly, “I’m here to see Elsbeth. ”

Bedford was clearly unimpressed. “Of course you are. As if last night’s little escapade wasn’t enough.”

Niles stiffened slightly. “You knew about that?”

“Oh, who do you think followed her to make sure she didn’t land herself in trouble?”

“I’m impressed she didn’t spot you.”

Bedford smirked. “Was that a compliment, Westcott?”

Niles gave a begrudging nod. “It may have been.”

Bedford chuckled. “Well, wonders never cease,” he said. “Come on, Elsbeth’s in the dining room, taking breakfast.”

As they entered the dining room, Niles’s gaze immediately found Elsbeth. She was seated at the table, reading the Society pages, her hair catching the morning light in soft waves. When she looked up and saw him, her eyes brightened—just enough to make his heart ache with hope.

“Lord Westcott,” Lady Isabella said with a welcoming smile. “Please, join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude?—”

“Nonsense,” she interrupted, gesturing to the empty seat beside Elsbeth. “Sit. You’re practically family already.”

Ignoring Bedford’s exaggerated groan, Niles took the offered seat. He turned to Elsbeth, smiling despite himself. “Dare I ask what has your attention this morning?”

She folded the newssheets and set it aside. “The Society pages. They’re dreadfully dull, but sometimes I read them to remind myself of London.”

“London is overrated,” Niles teased. “Too many people. Too many rules.”

“And yet, I miss it,” Elsbeth countered. “The balls, the music, the freedom to be someone else for an evening.”

“You could always return,” Niles suggested. “With the right company, London might feel like home again.”

Her eyes searched his, as though trying to decipher the deeper meaning in his words. But before she could respond, Bedford cleared his throat loudly, reminding them that they were not alone.

The butler stepped into the dining room and offered a small bow, his gaze fixed on Lady Isabella. “Mr. Stockton has returned home, my lady.”

“Wonderful,” Lady Isabella replied, rising from her seat. “If you’ll excuse me, I must speak with my husband.”

As Lady Isabella left the room, Elsbeth pushed back her chair and stood abruptly. “We should follow her and see what she intends to discuss with Alfred.”

“Now?” Niles asked.

“Yes, now,” Elsbeth insisted, her voice quiet but urgent. “Come on, hurry up.”

Niles sighed, rising to his feet. “Very well.” He turned to Bedford. “Would you care to join us?”

Bedford waved his hand dismissively. “You two go on without me. I do believe this is a waste of time.”

Niles offered his arm to Elsbeth and they moved silently through the corridors towards the rear of the manor. When they reached the open doorway of the study, Elsbeth pressed a finger to her lips, signaling for Niles to remain silent.

Inside the study, Lady Isabella’s voice carried clearly into the corridor. “She’s asking questions, Alfred,” she said, her tone edged with concern. “I tried to warn her.”

Alfred’s exasperated sigh followed. “We can’t have her asking questions.”

“Maybe we should just tell her the truth and be done with it?” Lady Isabella suggested, her voice tinged with desperation.

Alfred’s reply was sharp. “What is the truth? No. It’s better if we say nothing.”

“But keeping silent isn’t working,” Lady Isabella pressed. “She told me she snooped through your desk and found the newssheet clippings. ”

A tense silence followed, broken by a faint, familiar voice. “She needs to know the danger she’s in.”

“She’s not ready,” Alfred said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

“But Alfred,” her mother continued, “she is leaving with Charles at first light tomorrow. We can’t let her go.”

Elsbeth leaned closer to the doorway. But as she shifted her weight, the floorboard beneath her foot let out an audible creak that echoed down the corridor like a warning bell.

The voices inside the study stopped abruptly, and a moment later, Alfred appeared in the doorway. His expression was stern, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Elsbeth and Niles. “Eavesdropping, Elsbeth?” His tone was clipped and accusatory. “And Lord Westcott. What an unpleasant surprise.”

Rather than shrink under Alfred’s glare, Elsbeth tilted her chin defiantly. “I demand to know what you’re speaking of.”

Alfred’s brows shot up, his expression a mix of amusement and irritation. “You demand?”

“Yes, I do,” Elsbeth replied, though her voice wavered slightly. “It’s only fair since you were talking about me.”

Niles, standing just behind her, resisted the urge to smile at her boldness. That tenacity was one of the many qualities he admired about her.

Lady Isabella stepped into the doorway beside Alfred, her expression softer but no less strained. “I think it’s only fair we tell her the truth,” she said.

Alfred pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly torn. “She isn’t ready.”

Elsbeth stepped forward, her eyes flashing with determination. “I may not be ready, but I deserve to know. You’re keeping secrets about my father’s death, and if it involves me, I have every right to hear it.”

Alfred studied her for a long moment before turning to Lady Isabella with a sigh. “You had better handle this,” he muttered, stepping aside.

Lady Isabella reached for Elsbeth’s hand. “Come inside, my dear. There’s much to explain.”

Niles moved to follow, but Alfred held up a hand, blocking his path. “You can wait here, Lord Westcott. This is a family matter.”

“I care for Elsbeth,” Niles repeated, his voice steady but firm. “If it concerns her, it concerns me.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. But before he could respond, Elsbeth stepped in, her tone unwavering. “He stays. I want him here.”

Alfred stepped to the side, gesturing for them to enter the room. “You might not feel that way after our talk.”

Niles stepped inside, his posture tense as Alfred closed the door behind them.

The study felt heavier than usual, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension.

Niles’s gaze immediately landed on a man standing near the window.

Recognition flickered in Niles’s mind; this was the blond-haired man he and Elsbeth had seen speaking with Alfred before.

Alfred gestured towards the man. “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. John Glasker. He is a Bow Street Runner I’ve hired to investigate a rather delicate matter.”

The man stepped forward, offering a polite bow. “My lord. My lady.”

Elsbeth’s brows furrowed as she gave Mr. Glasker a curious glance. “I thought all Bow Street Runners wore red waistcoats.”

Mr. Glasker’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “That is true if we wish to be easily identified. However, in this particular case, discretion is paramount.”

Lady Isabella moved towards the settee, gently taking Elsbeth’s hand and guiding her to sit beside her.

“I have wanted to have this conversation with you so many times, Elsbeth, but I could never quite bring myself to do it. What we’re about to discuss…

it will be difficult to hear, and it must not leave this room. ”

“I understand,” Elsbeth acknowledged.

Lady Isabella turned her gaze to Niles. “That applies to you as well, Lord Westcott.”

Niles inclined his head and moved to sit beside Elsbeth. “You have my word, my lady.”

Lady Isabella exchanged a glance with Alfred, who looked less sure of himself now. The tension in the room seemed to grow with every passing moment. Finally, Alfred broke the silence.

“This is about your father, Elsbeth,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “And the circumstances surrounding his death.”

Elsbeth’s breath hitched, but she remained still, her hands clenching the fabric of her skirt. “What about it?”

Alfred exchanged another glance with Mr. Glasker, who stepped forward, his voice calm but grave. “Your father’s death, my lady, may not have been the accident it was believed to be,” the Bow Street Runner said.

“What are you saying? Are you telling me my father was… murdered?” Elsbeth asked, her voice betraying her emotion.

Lady Isabella’s hand tightened on Elsbeth’s. “We don’t know for certain, but there are things that have recently come to light.”

Niles’s jaw tightened. “And what, exactly, has come to light?”

Mr. Glasker looked to Alfred, who gave a curt nod before the Bow Street Runner continued. “There were discrepancies in the coroner’s report. Paid witnesses. Threats made to individuals who tried to ask questions.”

Elsbeth’s face drained of color. “By whom?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to uncover,” Mr. Glasker admitted. “Your stepfather brought me in to investigate quietly, to avoid drawing attention. What I can say is that someone went to great lengths to cover up the truth.”

“Why would someone want my father dead?” Elsbeth whispered, her voice breaking.

Lady Isabella winced. “Because your father was not the man you believed him to be, my dear.”

“What do you mean?” Elsbeth asked.

Alfred sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your father had enemies, Elsbeth. Dangerous ones. And it seems one of them may have decided to take matters into their own hands.”

The Bow Street Runner’s expression was solemn as he added, “And we suspect that person was your cousin, Lord Bedford.”