Why had he done such a thing? Flirting with Elsbeth wasentirely inappropriate. And yet, he couldn’t seem to help himself. There was something captivating about her, something that drew him in despite his better judgment.
As beautiful and intriguing as she was, there could be no future for them. He was certain of that.
Niles tore his gaze away from Elsbeth and focused on his plate, determined to push his thoughts aside. But the question lingered in the back of his mind: why had he agreed to help her in the first place?
8
As the morning light poured into her bedchamber, Elsbeth sat stiffly on the edge of her bed while Clara secured a fresh bandage around her injured arm. She tried not to let her discomfort show, despite the ache that pulsed with every movement.
“That should do,” Clara said, leaning back to assess her work. “But do try to be careful when you go pheasant shooting today.”
“You needn’t worry,” Elsbeth replied with a small smile. “I have no intention of firing a rifle.”
“Then why bother going?”
Elsbeth rose from the bed and walked towards the dressing table. “Because I’ll be partnering with Lord Westcott. It will give us the perfect opportunity to discuss how to uncover the truth about my stepfather’s lies.”
Clara let out a sigh of exasperation. “Not this again. Why do you insist on seeing only the worst in Mr. Stockton?”
Elsbeth met Clara’s gaze in the mirror. “Because he is hiding something.”
“Aren’t we all, my lady?”
“Not like him,” Elsbeth retorted, sitting down and removing her cap.
Clara retrieved a brush and began working through her mistress’s hair. “I think this entire endeavor is reckless. You should be focusing on recovering, not on scheming against your stepfather.”
Elsbeth’s lips tightened as she stared at her reflection. “Once I get that key to his desk, I’ll know what he’s hiding.”
“And if you find nothing?”
“I’ll find something,” she said firmly, though doubt briefly flickered in her voice.
Clara twisted Elsbeth’s hair into a neat chignon before reaching for a pale green gown. “Let’s dress you,” she said, holding it up.
Elsbeth sighed as she stood, slipping out of her dressing gown and into the fresh attire. As Clara fastened the buttons down the back of the gown, she spoke softly. “I just worry about you.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Elsbeth attempted.
“Do you?”
Elsbeth turned to face her. “I’m not wrong.”
Clara’s expression remained skeptical. “If you insist. But…” She hesitated. “I might have a way to help you secure that key.”
Elsbeth’s eyes widened. “You do? How?” she asked in an eager tone.
Clara nodded. “I’m on friendly terms with Mr. Stockton’s valet. I could ask for his assistance. He’s a discreet man.”
A spark of hope lit in Elsbeth’s chest. “Yes, please. Ask him.”
Clara held up a finger. “But if I do this, and you find nothing in the desk, will you agree to drop this madness?”
“I promise.”
“Very well,” Clara said, straightening. “Now, hurry. You're already late for breakfast.”
Elsbeth exited her bedchamber but abruptly stopped when she found Charles leaning casually against the wall just outside her room.
