Lady Elsbeth huffed. “How very astute of you, my lord.”
He gave her a small smile, undeterred by her annoyance. “I was angry too when my parents died. For a long time, I let the anger consume me. It drove away every ounce of joy I had left.”
“What changed?”
Niles leaned back slightly, letting out a slow breath. “I realized that I couldn’t go on as I had been. Not for myself and not for Eugenie. I had to find a purpose, something greater than myself.”
Lady Elsbeth’s eyes drew downcast. “I don’t think I can do that.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief, holding it out to her. “You can. It is not easy, but it is possible.”
She stared at the handkerchief for a moment before taking it with tentative fingers. “Thank you,” she murmured, dabbing at her cheeks. “Perhaps you are not as insufferable as I thought.”
Niles put a finger up to his lips. “Shh. Do not say anything. I have an image that I must maintain.”
To his surprise, a soft laugh escaped her lips, and her face brightened momentarily. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He heard Aunt Margaret’s voice echoing from the doorway. “Elsbeth? Is everything all right?”
Lady Elsbeth glanced at Niles briefly before replying, “It is.”
“Wonderful,” Aunt Margaret said with visible relief. “Would you care to join us for some pudding?”
Niles rose, extending a hand to Lady Elsbeth. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her up. Once standing, she withdrew her hand quickly and clasped it with the other in front of her.
As they walked back towards the dining room, Niles said, “I do think it is quite extraordinary of you to make clothes for the orphans.”
She gave a dismissive wave. “It is a small contribution. I only wish I could enact real change.”
“I am backing a bill in Parliament that is proposing major reforms for workhouse conditions,” he informed her.
“It won’t pass. They never do.”
Niles lifted his brow. “That doesn’t mean we stop trying,” he countered. “Real change takes persistence.”
They entered the dining room, where Lady Isabella rose from her seat, her face etched with worry. “Elsbeth…”
“It is all right, Mother,” Lady Elsbeth interrupted, holding up a hand. “Let’s not discuss it any further.”
Relief washed over Lady Isabella’s features, and she resumed her seat. Niles moved to pull out a chair for Elsbeth, and she murmured, “Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” he replied.
She smiled for the first time at him, and he almost had to look away, as if he had no right to witness something so beautiful.
Shaking off the thought, he returned to his seat, reminding himself that nothing had truly changed. Lady Elsbeth was still the maddening woman who vexed him at every turn.
At least, that is what he told himself.
4
Elsbeth 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.”
