E lsbeth lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling as shadows from the early morning light danced across her room.

Lord Westcott’s words replayed endlessly in her mind, as if taunting her.

He had seen her anger, felt it, even. It was as if he had stripped her bare, leaving her defenses exposed.

But what else was she supposed to feel? How else could she respond when her life had been ripped from her?

She wanted her old life back. The grand balls.

The invitations. The respect her family once commanded.

All of it had vanished with her father’s death, leaving her stranded in a provincial existence alongside a stepfather she was convinced wasn’t who he claimed to be.

Until she uncovered Alfred’s secrets, she couldn’t move on. That was her purpose. For now.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and the door creaked open, revealing her lady’s maid, Clara. “Good morning, my lady,” she greeted, her tone entirely too cheerful for the early morning hour.

Elsbeth groaned, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over her face. “I am still sleeping. Leave me be.”

“No, you aren’t,” Clara replied. “Your mother has requested your presence at breakfast. We should get you dressed for the day.”

Pulling the pillow away, Elsbeth sat up in bed. “Do you think I am angry?”

“Right now?” Clara teased, moving to the wardrobe.

“No, in general.”

Clara pulled out a pale blue gown, holding it up appraisingly. “You have seemed rather unhappy since you left Town, but that is to be expected, given the circumstances.”

“I am unhappy,” Elsbeth admitted, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t want to be here.”

Walking over to the settee, Clara draped the gown over the back. “And yet, here you are. Unfortunately, you have little choice in the matter.”

“I know, and that is what is so infuriating.”

Clara gestured towards the chair by the dressing table. “If you want any sympathy, you won’t find it here. You are beautiful and rich. Meanwhile, I scrape by to send most of my wages to my mother. Not that I am complaining…”

Elsbeth cut her off with a faint smile. “You are not, and I would never accuse you of such a thing. You know I want you to speak freely around me.”

Clara returned her smile. “Then sit, my lady. Let me work my magic.”

She complied, settling into the chair. As Clara began brushing her hair, Elsbeth said, “I need my stepfather’s key to his desk drawers. Once I have it, I can uncover his secrets and expose him to my mother.”

“And then what?” Clara asked, pausing mid-brush.

“Then I will be proven right.”

Clara resumed her work, her movements steady. “Pardon me for saying so, but your mother seems blissfully happy with Mr. Stockton. Do you truly want to ruin that?”

“What else am I to do?” Elsbeth countered. “I know my stepfather is hiding things. Why else would he lock his desk drawers?”

“To keep you out of them,” Clara replied.

“I am careful,” Elsbeth insisted. “He doesn’t know what I am up to.”

Clara pinned her hair with precision, then stepped around to face her. “What if your mother told him? She is completely devoted to him.”

Elsbeth had to concede that Clara had a point. Her mother was so besotted with Alfred that she might betray Elsbeth’s confidence. “You are right. I will have to be more careful about what I share with her.”

“And more secrets are the answer?” Clara pressed.

“What choice do I have?”

Clara sighed. “You could choose to live your life and give Mr. Stockton the benefit of the doubt.”

“I can’t.”

Clara’s disappointment was palpable. “This highwaywoman scheme could get you in trouble—or worse.”

“My pistol isn’t even loaded.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Clara said. “No one knows your intentions when you point it at them.”

Elsbeth rose from the chair and removed her dressing gown. “I just need that key. Once I have it, all of this will end.”

“I beg of you to reconsider,” Clara said. “You should be in bed at the late hour, not robbing coaches by gunpoint. You were lucky with Lord Westcott. Don’t risk it.”

As Elsbeth dressed, she grew silent, retreating into her thoughts. Clara’s words weighed heavily on her, but how could she stop now? If Alfred was hiding something, she had to know. He was the one in the wrong, not her.

Clara fastened the last button on the back of Elsbeth’s gown and took a step back. “You have grown quiet, my lady.”

“I was thinking. ”

Coming around to face her, Clara’s knowing look softened. “Whatever you decide, I will support you. Always.”

“Thank you.”

Clara’s lips twitched. “Now, hurry. If you don’t get to breakfast soon, your mother will scold us both.”

Elsbeth departed from her bedchamber and headed down the grand staircase. As she went to turn down the corridor, she heard raised voices. She slowed, curiosity pulling her closer.

“That is unacceptable!” Alfred bellowed. “You need to dig deeper.”

A muffled voice responded, but she couldn’t hear what was said.

Finding herself curious, Elsbeth slowly walked towards the study, mindful to avoid the creaking floorboards. It would do no good if someone discovered that she was eavesdropping.

Pressing herself against the wall, she peeked through the partially open door. Alfred sat at his desk, his face red with fury, while a tall, blond-haired man stood before him.

“You expect me to believe that?” Alfred snapped. “Of course, Lord Bedford had enemies. A man doesn’t reach his position by making friends.”

“Sir, if I may—” the man started.

“No!” Alfred cut him off. “You have one job, and no one can know that I am looking into this.”

The man tipped his head. “I can be discreet.”

“Good. That is what I am paying you for,” Alfred said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

As the man turned towards the door, Elsbeth’s heart leapt into her throat. She darted into the nearby parlor, pressing herself against the wall. Her mind raced. What was Alfred looking into? Why the secrecy?

The questions piled up, but the answers remained maddeningly out of reach.

Elsbeth waited in the parlor, holding her breath, until the sound of the man’s booted footsteps faded into the distance.

With a quick glance towards the study, she slipped out into the corridor, only to come face-to-face with Alfred.

She quickly schooled her expression into one of innocent surprise.

“Alfred!” Elsbeth exclaimed, her voice slightly higher than usual.

His brow arched as he regarded her. “What were you doing in the parlor?”

She hesitated, searching her mind for a plausible excuse. “I thought I had left a book in there,” she said after a moment, “but I must have returned it to the library.”

“Ah,” Alfred said. “Shall we go to breakfast?”

Elsbeth stared back at her stepfather. That was it? She was surprised that he was going to take her at her word. “Yes, I think that is a grand idea.”

He gestured for her to walk ahead of him, his hand extending with an elegant flourish. “After you.”

Elsbeth started towards the dining room, her stepfather falling into step beside her. She tried to keep her movements casual, though her mind raced with questions about the conversation that she had overheard.

“I trust that you slept well,” Alfred said, breaking the silence.

“I did,” she replied. “And you?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I did indeed.”

The air between them felt stifling, and Elsbeth struggled to think of something to say that wouldn’t betray her suspicions.

Before she could speak, Alfred continued. “How do you intend to occupy your day?”

“Lady Eugenie invited me to accompany her and Lady Margaret to the village,” Elsbeth replied. “I might acquire a new hat.”

“Wonderful,” he said .

Thankfully, the dining room doors came into view, sparing her from further awkward conversation.

As they stepped inside, her mother looked up from her tea, surprise evident in her features. “I had not expected you two to arrive together.”

Alfred moved to give his wife a kiss on the cheek. “Elsbeth and I had a most pleasant conversation.”

“Did you, now?” her mother asked, her tone tinged with incredulity as her eyes flickered between them.

Elsbeth moved to sit down and placed a napkin onto her lap. “Yes, we determined we both slept well last night.”

“Well, that is a start,” her mother responded.

Alfred took his place at the head of the table. “I have business that I need to attend to in the next village over today,” he announced. “But I should be home late this evening.”

Her mother frowned, her teacup pausing midway to her lips. “You know I do not like you traveling the roads at night, especially not with that highwaywoman terrorizing travelers.”

Her stepfather chuckled softly, his demeanor as calm as ever. “You need not fear for my safety, my dear. I have been traveling these roads for many years. They are perfectly safe.”

“Still, do be careful,” her mother pressed. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

Alfred smiled at his wife reassuringly. “You have my word.”

Elsbeth felt a bitter twist in her stomach. The man was hiding something, and her mother, blinded in her adoration, couldn’t see it. How could her mother be so oblivious?

Elsbeth knew precisely what she had to do. She would rob her stepfather’s coach tonight and retrieve the key.

Her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I am going to the dressmaker’s shop today. Would you care to join me?”

“I would, but Lady Eugenie invited me to accompany her and Lady Margaret to the village for some shopping,” Elsbeth replied .

“How wonderful!” her mother exclaimed. “You will have such fun. Will Lord Westcott be joining you?”

She hoped not.

“I doubt it,” Elsbeth replied. “I imagine he has much more pressing matters to attend to than shopping at a haberdashery.”

“You make a good point. He doesn’t strike me as the sort who would concern himself with ribbons and fabric.”