Elsbeth tilted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes searching his for answers. “What do you think I should do?”

A small, knowing smile curved his lips, one that seemed to hold all the answers she didn’t yet have. “I think you should marry me and we can ride off into the sunset. Just you and me.”

For a fleeting moment, the idea was as tempting as it was improbable.

But the memory of Charles—his dejected expression, the raw hurt in his eyes—came rushing back.

His reaction to their accusations had seemed painfully genuine.

“I’m not opposed to continuing this conversation,” she said carefully, “but I need to speak to Charles first.”

“That’s the last thing you should be doing,” he replied, a note of warning in his voice.

Elsbeth took a steadying breath. “In my heart, I don’t believe Charles murdered my father,” she said. She had no evidence to offer, only an instinct that refused to be silenced.

Niles studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “Then go,” he encouraged, though he made no move to release her.

She laughed. “You’ll need to let me go first.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “I’ve waited a long time to hold you like this, Elsbeth. I’m not quite ready to let go.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she leaned into him a little more. “Perhaps,” she whispered, “we can stay like this for just a moment longer.”

And so they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the world beyond the gardens seemed to fade away. After a long moment, Elsbeth reluctantly took a step back. “I should go speak to my cousin.”

“Very well,” he replied. “May I walk you back inside?”

“That won’t be necessary. I suspect Charles will be heading out to the stables. He tends to prefer riding when he’s upset. It’s his way of clearing his mind.”

“Then I shall walk you to the stables,” Niles said, his determination unwavering.

Elsbeth couldn’t suppress a grin. “I think speaking with Charles will go much easier if you’re not around. I don’t think my cousin particularly cares for you.”

Niles feigned shock, his hand flying to his chest in mock indignation. “ What ?! Impossible. I thought we were the best of friends.”

A light laugh escaped her lips. “I shall see you soon,” she responded before heading towards the stables.

“Be sure not to be left alone with Charles,” Niles called out after her.

She spun back around. “Morton won’t let anything happen to me,” she replied, hoping to ease his worries. “And don’t you think about following me. I can handle this on my own.”

“Very well, but if you are not back shortly, I will come for you,” he said. His words brooked no argument.

“I can agree to that.”

As Elsbeth resumed walking down the gravel path, her lips hummed a faint melody, a habit she hadn’t indulged in since childhood.

It surprised her how content she felt. Perhaps a marriage to Niles wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

No, he might not love her, but in time, maybe he could come to care for her as deeply as she cared for him.

The sound of booted footsteps came behind her, but something struck her from behind before she could turn around. And everything went black.

Niles lingered in the gardens long after Elsbeth disappeared from view. A smile lingered on his lips. His proposal to Elsbeth had been interrupted, but he felt encouraged, considering she hadn’t pulled away when he’d embraced her.

For the first time in years, he felt whole, as if her touch had mended the scars etched on his heart. She had brought light back into his life, and he was ready to fight for her, no matter the odds.

As he entered the manor, passing by the study, Lady Isabella’s voice called out to him. “Lord Westcott,” she began, a hopeful lilt in her tone. “Are congratulations in order?”

He stopped and turned towards the open door. “I’m afraid not,” he replied, stepping inside. “My offer was interrupted by Lord Bedford.”

Lady Isabella’s face fell slightly, but her determination didn’t waver. “But you do intend to marry my daughter?”

“I do,” Niles said firmly. “Make no mistake about that.”

A bright smile broke across her face. “Wonderful,” she declared, her voice brimming with approval.

Alfred, who had been silently observing the conversation, stepped closer to his wife. “What did Charles want?”

Niles’s expression grew serious. “He wasn’t pleased that I was offering for Elsbeth. He made his objections quite clear.”

Alfred’s expression grew solemn. “If what we believe is true, then by you marrying her, he would lose access to her dowry,” he said. “I never wanted to think Charles was capable of such things, but Mr. Strother’s suspicions have made me rethink everything.”

Niles’s brow lifted. “Does Mr. Strother have proof?”

“He has been working with us to gather evidence,” Alfred explained. “Mr. Strother was a loyal ally to the late Lord Bedford and believes foul play was involved in his death.”

Lady Isabella interjected. “Where is Elsbeth?”

“She went to the stables to speak to Charles,” Niles informed her. “She was rather insistent on it.”

“You let her go… alone ?!” Alfred demanded.

Niles put his hand up. “She assured me that Morton would keep her safe while she spoke to Charles.”

Alfred glanced at the window. “I do not think that is a good idea. She shouldn’t be alone around Charles.”

Before Niles could respond, a commotion erupted in the entry hall.

Lady Isabella turned her head sharply. “What on earth is going on now?” she asked.

“I’ll find out,” Niles said, excusing himself from the study.

When he reached the entry hall, Niles saw Lord Bedford directing the servants, his face a storm of frustration as they moved trunks towards the door.

“Good gads, you’re here again?” Bedford said dryly. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

“I thought you were going riding,” Niles replied.

Bedford scowled. “Are you daft? I told you I was leaving this manor, and I intend to make good on that promise.”

Niles frowned. “Elsbeth went to the stables to find you. She thought you’d be riding to clear your head.”

Bedford’s expression shifted to disbelief. “Normally, I would. But today? After being accused of murder? I have no desire to linger where I’m not wanted,” he said. “I am surprised you even allow Elsbeth to be around me, considering you think so poorly of me.”

“It was Elsbeth’s decision, not mine,” Niles replied. “And I support her.”

Bedford huffed. “Mr. Strother told me that it would be nearly impossible to prove that Alfred was behind my uncle’s murder. I just didn’t want to believe that.”

Niles pressed his lips together. “Mr. Strother told you that?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” Bedford asked. “I do believe you get stupider every time we speak.”

Niles’s jaw tightened, but before he could formulate a response or retort, the manor’s main door suddenly burst open with a resounding crash.

Morton, the white-haired groom, stumbled into the entry hall, his face pale and his wide eyes filled with panic. He clutched his cap in trembling hands as he scanned the room, his voice trembling as he cried out, “Lady Elsbeth! She’s been taken!”

The words hit Niles like a blow to the chest, his breath catching. “ What ?!” he demanded, striding towards Morton. “Taken? What do you mean?”

Morton swallowed hard, stepping closer as his hands fidgeted with the brim of his cap.

“I was at the stables, brushing down one of the horses. I saw Lady Elsbeth walking down the garden path. I—I looked down for just a moment, and when I looked up, I saw a man grab her. He carried her to a waiting coach. I shouted, but by the time I got there, the coach was already gone.”

Bedford’s face paled, his frustration and anger from moments ago replaced by pure alarm. “Did you see the man? Do you know who it was?”

Morton nodded shakily. “He was short, with thinning hair and spectacles. I’ve seen him before… it was Mr. Strother.”

Niles’s hands clenched into fists, his mind racing. “Mr. Strother,” he said, his voice cold and steely. “Why would he?—”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Bedford interrupted. “What matters is that Elsbeth is gone, and we need to act now.”

“We need to notify the constable at once,” Niles said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him .

Morton shook his head. “With all due respect, my lord, you must go after her now. By the time the constable arrives, it might be too late. The coach took the road leading out of the village.”

Lady Isabella appeared in the corridor, her eyes darting between Morton and Bedford. “What is all this shouting about?”

Bedford turned to his aunt, his voice grim. “Mr. Strother has abducted Elsbeth.”

Lady Isabella staggered back and Alfred appeared by her side, steadying her. “Please say it isn’t true,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I saw it myself, my lady,” Morton confirmed.

Alfred’s expression turned steely, a dangerous edge in his voice. “I’m going after her,” he stated.

“I’m going, too,” Niles said without hesitation.

“As am I,” Bedford added.

Alfred nodded curtly. “We leave at once.”

Morton spun on his heel. “I’ll have the horses saddled immediately.”

Alfred gestured towards the study. “Follow me. I have pistols for all of us. We’ll make sure that Mr. Strother regrets ever laying a hand on Elsbeth.”

The men exchanged resolute nods before heading towards the study, ready to do whatever it took to bring her home.

As they entered the study, Alfred strode purposefully to his desk. He unlocked a drawer and withdrew three pistols. “Here,” he said, holding them out. “Be careful. These pistols are loaded.”

Niles accepted a pistol, his gaze flicking to Alfred. “You keep loaded pistols in your desk?”

“I am a merchant, my lord,” Alfred replied matter-of-factly. “One never knows when a disgruntled individual might decide to settle a score. And I would do anything to protect my family. ”

Bedford, standing slightly apart, examined the pistol before tucking it securely into the waistband of his trousers. “Enough talk. Let’s get moving.”

“Before we go,” Alfred began, “I need to know that I can trust you both.”

Bedford let out a dry chuckle. “Says the man who just handed me a loaded weapon.”

Alfred’s eyes locked onto Bedford’s, his expression dark. “Mark my words: if you do anything to hurt Elsbeth, I will kill you myself.”

Bedford’s eyes narrowed. “The feeling is mutual,” he growled.

The room grew heavy with tension as the two men glared at one another, their animosity tangible. Finally, Alfred seemed to deem Bedford’s response sufficient and turned back to the matter at hand. “We need to figure out what the blazes Mr. Strother is after. Why did he abduct Elsbeth?”

Niles stepped forward, the pistol resting in his hand. “If I may,” he said, his tone contemplative, “I believe Mr. Strother has been playing both sides. He’s been stirring suspicion against both of you, but for what purpose?”

Alfred’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Niles. “That may be, but I saw the ledgers. Bedford was stealing from the late Lord Bedford’s estate.”

Bedford’s face contorted with anger. “Are you mad? I wasn’t stealing anything! What could I possibly take from a nearly bankrupt estate?”

Alfred squared his shoulders. “The ledgers don’t lie. Your uncle discovered your treachery, and that’s why you killed him.”

Bedford took a commanding step forward. “That is utter balderdash! You’re projecting your own guilt on me, Alfred. You killed my uncle so you could marry my aunt. ”

Alfred’s face reddened with fury. “How dare you! I did no such thing!”

The two men began shouting over each other, their accusations growing louder and more heated by the second. Niles, his patience snapping, stepped between them and raised his hand in a commanding gesture. “Enough!” he barked.

The room fell silent, and Niles fixed each of them with a stern gaze. “This infighting serves no purpose. While we argue, Elsbeth is out there, in danger. Whatever grievances you have with each other can wait. Right now, we focus on one thing—saving her.”

Alfred and Bedford exchanged a tense look. After a long pause, Alfred gave a curt nod. “You’re right. Elsbeth’s safety comes first.”

Bedford adjusted the pistol at his waistband and gave a firm nod. “Let’s move. Every moment we delay only puts more distance between us and Elsbeth.”

The three men exited the manor with purposeful strides. The sound of their boots on the gravel path was brisk and urgent as they made their way to the stables. Their determination hung in the air, thick and unyielding.

True to his word, Morton stood in the stable yard with three horses saddled and ready to ride. He hurried over as they approached, leading the first horse to Niles. “This is Elsbeth’s mare,” he explained, handing him the reins. “She is rather feisty, but I’ve no doubt you can handle her.”

Niles accepted the reins. “Thank you, Morton,” he said as he mounted the horse.

Beside him, Charles muttered, “The horse or Elsbeth? Which is feistier, do you think?”

Niles shot him a withering glance, his patience wearing thin. “Now isn’t the time for jokes, Bedford.”

Charles smirked but said nothing further as he mounted his own horse .

Morton stepped closer to the mare, his expression serious. “You’ll need to move quickly,” he urged. “Once the coach reaches the main road, Mr. Strother could take any number of routes. The longer you take, the harder it’ll be to track them.”

Niles turned his gaze towards the road that led out of the village. His jaw tightened as he considered the challenge ahead. “Then we’d best ride hard.”

Morton stepped back, his weathered face lined with concern. “Ride safe. And bring Lady Elsbeth home.”

With that, Niles spurred the mare into motion, leading the charge out of the stable yard and onto the road. The hooves of their horses pounded against the ground, kicking up dirt and pebbles as they raced against time.

The wind whipped past Niles’s face, but his thoughts were singularly focused. Elsbeth. He had to reach her, had to save her. He couldn’t fail. Not when her life—and his future—depended on it.