She reached for her cup of chocolate. “I would do anything for my mother,” she murmured. “Even if it means I go about it alone.”
Charles’s brows furrowed in concern. “Elsbeth…”
She cut him off, turning the conversation back on him. “What about you, Charles? Would you do anything to keep your estate afloat?”
His lips pressed into a thin line, his hesitation speaking volumes. “There are some things I wouldn’t do,” he said firmly.
Returning her cup to the saucer, she leaned forward. “Didn’t you say you’d marry for convenience rather than love? You’d sacrifice your happiness for the survival of your estate?”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?” she challenged.
Charles abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going riding,” he announced, his tone clipped. “Perhaps when I return, we can have a frank conversation about how not to be troublesome.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Elsbeth countered. “I’m merely trying to make a point.”
He stepped closer and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “If you continue down this path, you’re going to push everyone away.”
She looked up at him, her heart heavy with the truth in his words. “I’ve become well acquainted with loneliness,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s by choice, Cousin,” he said, letting his hand drop before walking out of the room.
As the door closed behind him, Elsbeth groaned softly, leaning back in her chair. She hated that Charles might beright, and that thought gnawed at her more than she cared to admit.
Her stomach churned unexpectedly, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She pushed her chair back, intending to leave, but as she stood, dizziness overtook her, and she clutched the back of the chair for support.
A nearby footman rushed to her side, his face etched with concern. “Are you all right, my lady?”
“I… I think so,” she said faintly, sinking back into her seat. “I just need a moment.”
The room seemed to spin, and the thought of climbing the stairs to her bedchamber felt impossible. Instead, she rested her head on the table, hoping the feeling would pass.
The footman’s voice was urgent. “I’m going to send for the doctor.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, though the words barely left her lips. Her focus was consumed by the effort to keep her stomach from rebelling.
The rain lashed against the windows in relentless sheets, obscuring the gardens from view as Niles stood by the window. He was restless. And that was so unlike him. He had a myriad of things to do but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do anything. It had been two days since Lady Isabella’s note arrived, informing them that Elsbeth had fallen ill.
He told himself he should focus on his ledgers or correspondence, anything to keep his mind occupied. But every time he tried, his thoughts strayed back to Elsbeth. Why did her illness trouble him so much? He had no reason to be so preoccupied. Yet he was, and that truth unsettled him.
Niles turned to see Eugenie sitting comfortably on thesettee, a book balanced in her lap. Her serene demeanor only magnified his inner turmoil. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up and gave him a pointed look.
“Do sit down, Brother. You are making me anxious by just looking at you.”
He sighed and crossed the room, settling into a chair across from her. “What are you reading?”
Eugenie perked up. “Do you truly wish to know, or are you merely bored out of your wits?”
“Perhaps a little of both,” he admitted. “There’s little else to occupy me at the moment.”
Her lips twitched with amusement. “Your enthusiasm is truly inspiring. Tell me, why are you moping about? It can’t simply be the rain.”
“I am not moping,” he retorted, though even he heard the defensive edge in his tone.
“You most certainly are,” she countered. “And it began right after we received word that Lady Elsbeth was unwell. Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”
Niles leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You’ve been reading too many novels.”
