“It is a risk worth taking.”
Lord Westcott tilted his head, studying her carefully. “Perhaps I could help.”
She almost laughed at the absurdity of his offer. “And what, pray tell, could you do, my lord?”
“You remember me, then?”
Elsbeth tightened the hold on her reins, silently chiding herself on the slip of her tongue. “I do,” she replied. “You are rather hard to forget.”
“I am at a loss since I do not know your name.”
The sound of a twig snapping in the distance caused herhead to turn towards the direction of the noise. “Did you come alone?”
“I did.”
Perhaps it was just an animal that had made that noise. But a feeling of uneasiness came over her. Why was she chatting with Lord Westcott in the woodlands? She had a mission that she had to accomplish but she couldn’t do so with him here.
Lord Westcott’s voice drew back her attention. “You can trust me.”
“Trust you?” she asked. “Why would I do something so foolish?”
“I can help you.”
In a strained voice, she replied, “No one can help me. I must do this on my own.”
“That is a sad way to live.”
“And what do you know about that?” Elsbeth challenged. What would an earl know about struggles?
The moon shifted and it illuminated his face. It showed a pain that she didn’t think he was capable of. “I know what it is like feeling alone,” he admitted.
“But you aren’t alone.”
“Just because someone is surrounded by people, it doesn’t mean they can’t feel alone,” he replied.
“I agree with that sentiment,” Elsbeth said, knowing that feeling well. She lived in a home that was filled with servants, but she had never felt more alone. Isolated. Even her own mother didn’t quite know what to do with her.
Lord Westcott’s voice held compassion. “I am in a position that I can help you.”
She decided to ask the most glaring question. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t know why, but I recognize a kindred soul when I see one,” Lord Westcott replied.
Elsbeth’s stomach tightened at his words. “We are notkindred souls, my lord.” They were far from it. He wouldn’t be saying such things if he knew her true identity.
Lord Westcott shrugged. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it.”
“You are a powerful lord, and I am…” Her words trailed off as she tried to find the right word. “Helpless.”
“No one is helpless.”
“How naive of you,” Elsbeth stated, her words curt. “You are an earl and have the world at your disposal. I am just a woman.”
Lord Westcott considered her for a long moment. “You seem like a remarkable woman. One who has a story to tell.”
“Everyone has a story to tell.”
“Yes, but some are more interesting than others,” Lord Westcott contended. “Not many ladies turn to being highwaywomen.”
