“Now?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” Elsbeth asked with an arched brow.
Niles glanced back at his aunt and sister, who were deep in conversation and paying them no mind. “Very well. How do you propose we sneak away?”
Elsbeth’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “I have an idea.”
“Is it a good idea?”
“I believe so.”
“Then I’ll trust you,” he said, though he couldn’t help teasing.
Her smile widened. “That’s rather bold of you. But sometimes the simplest plans are the most effective.”
There was something about her smile, so unguarded and genuine, that made it hard for him to look away. It drew him in, stirring something he wasn’t entirely ready to name.
Raising her voice, Elsbeth asked, “Lord Westcott, would you care to accompany me to the study to select a book?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Niles replied, hoping not to sound too eager.
“Wonderful,” Elsbeth acknowledged.
As they left the drawing room, Niles followed her down the corridor. “What’s the plan once we’re there?” he asked.
“I’ll search the desk,” Elsbeth said. “You keep watch.”
“I can manage that.” His gaze drifted to her bandaged arm. “How is your injury?”
“It aches now and then, especially at night,” she admitted. “I do not recommend getting shot.”
“Duly noted.”
They reached the study, and Elsbeth paused at the door. “Stay here and alert me if anyone approaches.”
“Understood.”
Taking a deep breath, she added, almost to herself, “This is it. Let’s hope I was right, or this will be a colossal waste of time.”
Niles placed a reassuring hand on her sleeve. “No matter what you find, you’re following your convictions. That’s what matters.”
“But I don’t want to be wrong.”
“No one does,” he replied. “But sometimes, being wrong leads to answers we didn’t know we needed. Now go, before we’re caught.”
Elsbeth didn’t hesitate. She slipped inside the study and crouched behind the desk, pulling open the drawers. Niles kept watch, his ears straining for any approaching footsteps. A gasp from inside the study made him turn.
“What is it?” he asked, stepping into the room.
Elsbeth held up a file, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “It’s a collection of clippings from the newssheets. They are all about my father’s death.”
“All of them?” Niles asked, moving to her side.
She flipped through the articles. “It seems so. Why would Alfred keep these?”
Niles took the file, scanning its contents. “Did your stepfather know your father?”
“I don’t think so,” Elsbeth said, her voice uncertain. “I’ll have to ask my mother.”
