Elsbeth took a steadying breath. This was it. She would tell him the truth, and hope that he believed her. “My stepfather isn’t who he claims to be. No one believes me, but I know he is hiding something. He keeps his desk locked, and the key is always in his jacket pocket.”
There was a moment of silence as her words hung in the air. She searched his face for any sign of disbelief or mockery but found none.
Finally, when he spoke, he asked, “And you thought pretending to be a highwaywoman would get you that key?”
She frowned, heat rising to her cheeks. “I did, but your coach was the only one that I robbed. I mistook yours for his.”
“And my pocket watch? Was that part of your grand plan?” His tone carried both amusement and reproach.
Elsbeth winced. “I had to take something to make it seem believable. I didn’t realize it was your father’s. I will return it, of course. I have no use for it.”
A stern look came to Lord Westcott’s expression. “Did you even consider the risks of this charade? Riding alone at night, confronting strangers? You could have been killed.”
“I did consider that,” she admitted. “But what was I supposed to do? Stand by while my stepfather continues to deceive everyone? My mother adores him, but he’s a fraud. I need to prove it.”
“And you thought risking your life was the solution?”
“It was the only solution I could think of,” she said, her tone more defensive now. “But I realize now that it wasn’t enough. That’s why I need to find another way.”
“This is madness,” he said, his voice filled with exasperation.
“No,” Elsbeth countered. “Madness is doing nothing. Madness is letting him fool everyone while I stand idly by. I won’t let history repeat itself.”
Lord Westcott met her gaze. “What do you mean by that?”
Her words were heavy with emotion as she revealed, “My father fooled everyone. No one suspected what he truly was until it was too late. The truth only came out after his death, and it destroyed us. We were left to pick up the pieces of a shattered legacy. I won’t let that happen again. Not to my mother. Not to me. We deserve better.”
A long silence followed her words, and when Lord Westcott finally spoke, there was a quiet determination in his voice. “Then I will assist you. Let me help.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You will?” she asked. Frankly, it was the last thing she had expected.
“Yes,” he said firmly, “but on three conditions.”
“I’m listening,” she said, lifting her brow.
“First,” he began, “no more highwaywoman antics.”
“That’s fair,” she agreed.
“Second, you’ll be honest with me from now on. No more secrets.”
Her pause was brief. “Very well. And the third?”
A smile curved his lips. “You’ll allow me to call you by your given name.”
“That is rather presumptuous of you, my lord.”
“No bolder than robbing me at gunpoint,” he retorted.
Despite herself, a laugh escaped her lips. “You were never in any true danger,” she informed him. “The pistol wasn’t even loaded.”
Lord Westcott chuckled. “You were a terrible highwaywoman.”
“And yet, I managed to steal your pocket watch,” she quipped.
“Correction,” he said with a grin. “Igaveit to you.”
For the first time, Elsbeth felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, with Lord Westcott’s help, she could uncover the truth. And perhaps, just perhaps, she wasn’t as alone as she had thought.
