Niles sank onto the settee, grateful to be off his feet. It had been a long day. “Wiley, how long have you been married?”
“Ten years now,” Wiley replied, a note of pride in his voice.
“That is a long time.”
“Not long enough,” Wiley said with a chuckle. “If you ask me, it is just the beginning.”
Niles leaned his head back, his thoughts drifting to the highwaywoman who had stopped his coach. There was something about her, something that intrigued him.
Why did he feel as though meeting her had changed everything? And why did he have the distinct impression that their paths would cross again?
2
Elsbeth entered the dining room and paused just inside the doorway, her eyes falling on her stepfather seated at the head of the long, rectangular table. Her blonde-haired mother sat to his right, daintily slicing into a boiled egg. Her mother always ate the same thing every morning: one boiled egg and two pieces of buttered toast. The sight should have been comforting. Familiar. But today it only stirred frustration in Elsbeth.
Her dark-haired stepfather looked up from the newssheets, offering a smile. “Good morning, Elsbeth,” he greeted, his tone warm. Too warm.
“Good morning,” she replied.
Her mother glanced up. “I trust that you slept well last night?”
“I did,” Elsbeth lied. She wouldn’t admit she had barely closed her eyes, haunted by the memory of her encounter with Lord Westcott the night before. The replay of their interaction had consumed her, and she felt sure she had appeared utterly absurd to him.
Her mother smiled. “That is good. Come, join us,” she said, gesturing towards the chair to her left.
Elsbeth's feet felt like lead as she approached the table. She did not want to eat breakfast with her stepfather. The man was a charlatan in her eyes, though she couldn’t yet prove it.
As she settled into her chair, Alfred folded his newssheets and set them neatly aside, his attention now fully on her. “Your mother and I are planning to visit the village today,” he said. “I thought perhaps you might like to join us. There are a few shops worth browsing, and I believe you could use a new hat.”
The words hit their mark. Alfred was reminding her, subtly but effectively, that without his money, she could not afford the simplest of luxuries. But two could play at this game.
She met his gaze, her expression carefully composed. “How thoughtful of you. I would love a new hat. You are most considerate.”
Alfred’s smile broadened, clearly pleased with her response. “I know how much women enjoy pretty things,” he said with a loving glance at his wife.
“Men seem to enjoy them just as much,” Elsbeth remarked, her tone edged with a challenge.
Her mother stiffened, sending her a warning look, but Alfred only laughed. “Guilty as charged, Elsbeth. I find your mother extraordinarily beautiful, and I count myself lucky to have her.”
“That is kind of you to say,” her mother said, leaning in for a brief kiss.
Elsbeth turned her attention to her cup of chocolate, taking a slow sip to avoid rolling her eyes. She couldn’t fathom her mother’s infatuation with this man. Her mother had adored Elsbeth’s father and had been devastated by his death. How had she moved on so quickly? And with a man so vastly beneath her station?
Her mother broke the silence, her tone brisk. “We mustn’tlinger in the village too long. Lady Margaret will be calling on us later.”
Elsbeth’s mood lifted slightly at the mention of Lady Margaret. “Perhaps we should forgo shopping altogether.”
“Nonsense,” her mother replied, smoothing a hand over the linen napkin in her lap. “We will have time for both, provided we are efficient.”
“I do not truly need another hat,” Elsbeth said.
Her stepfather chuckled. “I have never known a lady to think she has too many hats.”
“It is rare, but it happens,” she said. “Besides, myfatherensured my mother and I had an abundance of hats. There is no need to buy us any more.”
Her mother frowned. “That is enough, Elsbeth.”
Alfred, however, seemed unruffled, offering her an apologetic look. “I did not mean to offend.”
