Her mother’s expression softened as she changed the subject. “I understand we’re to have guests this evening for dinner?”
“I do hope that’s all right.”
Her mother’s smile grew. “Of course. I simply adore Lady Eugenie and Lord Westcott. I’ll inform the cook while you rest. You’ve had a most taxing morning.”
“I agree,” Elsbeth said, nodding as she made her way towards the bed. “I think a nap would do me some good.”
Her mother reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from Elsbeth’s face. “Rest well, my dear. I’ll leave you to it.”
As her mother exited the room, Clara, who had been quietly observing from the corner, stepped forward. “Dare I ask what happened this morning?”
Elsbeth sighed, waving her hand dismissively. “My cousin was aiming at a pheasant and almost hit me instead.”
“How terrifying,” Clara remarked.
“It was merely an accident,” Elsbeth said firmly. “Charles would never intentionally hurt me.”
“I never said that he would.”
“Good,” Elsbeth muttered, the faintest trace of relief in her tone. At least someone saw reason.
Clara moved towards the door, her hand resting on the handle. “Would you care for a bath after your nap?”
“That would be lovely,” Elsbeth replied.
“I’ll see to the arrangements,” Clara said with a nod before slipping out of the room.
Alone, Elsbeth lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the morning replayed in her mind. She longed for rest, but her thoughts refused to quiet. She loved her cousin; she knew he loved her in return. So why was she questioning whether he’d ever hurt her?
Drat.
Niles had gotten into her head, planting seeds of doubt.
Niles sat in the darkened coach, the gentle sway of the conveyance doing little to settle his restless thoughts. Across from him, his sister Eugenie stared out the window, her face amixture of curiosity and contemplation, while Aunt Margaret remained silent beside her. He was grateful for the quiet, though he doubted it would last.
Sure enough, Aunt Margaret soon broke the stillness. “I am so pleased that you two are friends with Elsbeth. She’s such a delightful young woman.”
Niles bristled slightly, careful to keep his expression neutral. “We tolerate one another.”
Eugenie smirked, turning away from the window to fix him with a knowing look. “You two do more than tolerate each other.”
“Fine,” he admitted reluctantly. “We are… friends. But if there are stages of friendship, we’re at stage one. It’s barely worth mentioning.”
“I’d say Elsbeth and I are at stage five. I find her to be utterly charming,” Eugenie said.
Niles pressed his lips together, unwilling to prolong the conversation. He didn’t want to talk about Elsbeth—not when thoughts of her already consumed him more than he cared to admit. Thankfully, the coach slowed and stopped in front of the manor. He exited first, stepping onto the gravel drive, and turned to help Eugenie and Aunt Margaret down.
As they approached the entrance, the main door opened, and they were ushered inside by the butler. The drawing room was warm and inviting, with a fire crackling in the hearth. Elsbeth sat on the settee, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. When she turned and saw him, her eyes seemed to light up. Or perhaps it was his imagination.
“Lord Westcott,” she greeted with a small smile.
“Lady Elsbeth,” he replied, inclining his head.
She rose and closed the distance between them. “I have the key,” she whispered.
Niles’s brows lifted in surprise. “How?”
“My lady’s maid retrieved it for me,” she said, a glint ofexcitement in her eyes. “My stepfather is out. Shall we open his desk?”
