“Will it hurt?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Yes,” he replied bluntly.
Elsbeth squared her shoulders. “All right. Do what you need to do.”
Morton rose from his stool. “It has been some time since Ihave sewn stitches on a person, not since my days in the Royal Army,” he said before he went to retrieve a weathered leather pouch. “It will no doubt leave a scar.”
“The scar is the least of my concerns,” Elsbeth replied.
Morton returned to his stool and gave her a hard look. “You need to stop this madness, my lady. Nothing is worth risking your life.”
“But my stepfather—” she began.
He cut her off. “Who cares if he has secrets? Don’t we all?” he asked. “I have been complicit in all of this since I have looked the other way. But enough is enough. You can’t go around playing a highwaywoman.”
For a moment, Elsbeth considered his words. Maybe he was right. Perhaps she was pushing things too far, taking too many risks. But then she thought of Alfred’s locked drawers, the whispered conversations, and the lies. She couldn’t let it go. “I need to know what he is hiding,” she said quietly.
Morton threaded a needle with practiced hands. “This is the last time I will patch you up,” he stated, meeting her gaze. “You need to find another way, my lady.”
Elsbeth nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she truly meant it. “You are right,” she responded. “I wasn’t a very good highwaywoman anyways.”
Morton’s eyes softened with relief. “That is the most sense I have heard you speak in weeks.”
As he brought the needle to her arm, she braced herself for the inevitable pain. “This will hurt a little,” Morton warned.
The needle pierced her skin, and Elsbeth gasped, her nails digging into the edge of the stool. Hurting a little was an understatement. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, her breaths shallow and quick.
“Lord Westcott,” she said suddenly, the name escaping her lips before she could stop herself.
Morton’s hand stilled. “What about him?”
“He was the reason I was shot,” she admitted. “He distracted me while someone else took aim.”
Morton’s jaw tightened. “That man has no honor.”
“Well, neither do I,” Elsbeth replied. “I did rob him of his pocket watch. Perhaps it was his way of exacting revenge.”
Morton shook his head as he resumed stitching. “It was a cowardly thing to do. A man should fight his own battles, not ambush a lady.”
Elsbeth felt tears sting her eyes again, though this time they were born of disappointment rather than pain. Why had she trusted Lord Westcott, even for a moment? Why had she let herself believe he could be different? He had saved her life in the village, only to betray her in the woods.
Despite the anger coursing through her, she had to acknowledge that Lord Westcott didn’t know she was the highwaywoman. Or did he? No. That was impossible. She had been so careful—up until now. He had betrayed the highwaywoman, not her. But did that even matter?
She swore to herself that she would never let her guard down around him—or anyone—again.
Niles sat atop his horse, staring into the dense, shadowy woodlands where the highwaywoman had disappeared moments before. The sound of hoofbeats faded, leaving only the rustling of leaves. He clenched his reins tightly, his jaw tensing with frustration. She was gone, and he knew better than to follow. These woods were unfamiliar to him and pursuing her blindly could prove dangerous. Still, he couldn’t shake the sound of her cry after the pistol discharged. He suspected that she had been shot.
Before he could linger on the thought, a deep voice interrupted his musings. “Are you all right, my lord?”
Startled, Niles turned to see a tall, heavy-set man astride a horse riding out from the shadows. The man tucked a pistol into the waistband of his trousers, his stern expression softened slightly in concern.
“Who are you?” Niles asked.
The man inclined his head respectfully. “My apologies. I am Constable West. I was informed of a highwaywoman terrorizing these parts and I came to investigate.”
Niles frowned, his mind racing. “Who informed you?”
“Your aunt, my lord,” Constable West replied. “She was worried for your safety and felt it was necessary to alert me. When I saw you conversing with the highwaywoman, I feared she might harm you.”
