“This is our home now,” her mother said firmly. “It has been six months since I married Alfred. You’d best get used to it.” Without another word, she left the dining room, leaving Elsbeth to stew in her frustration.
Reaching for a knife, Elsbeth began to butter her bread. She knew she might appear ungrateful, but she couldn’t bring herself to pretend that all was well. Something about her stepfather and their current circumstances felt off, and she was determined to uncover the truth, no matter how long it took.
As she chewed her bread, the butler stepped into the room. He gave a small bow before announcing, “Lady Margaret has arrived with her niece, Lady Eugenie, and her nephew, Lord Westcott.”
Elsbeth’s hand froze, her slice of bread hovering above her plate. “Did you say ‘Lord Westcott’?” she asked as she attempted to keep the dread out of her voice.
“I did, my lady,” the butler confirmed.
Drat.
What was she to do now? She couldn’t turn Lady Margaret away, not when the woman was one of the few members of Society still willing to call on their household. But the thoughtof meeting Lord Westcott again made her stomach churn. What if he recognized her?
No.
That was impossible. She had worn a mask and tried to conceal her voice. He had no way of knowing it had been her as the highwaywoman.
Placing the bread down onto her plate, Elsbeth said, “Please inform my mother that we have guests to attend to.”
Rising from her seat, Elsbeth smoothed her pale blue gown, hoping it would mask the unease threatening to overwhelm her. Lord Westcott was just another guest. Nothing more. So why was her heart racing at the thought of seeing him? Surely it had nothing to do with his piercing eyes, chiseled jaw, or how impossibly handsome he had appeared even under the moonlight.
Pushing her thoughts aside, she headed towards the drawing room. She stepped inside and was immediately greeted by Lady Margaret’s warm, familiar smile.
Elsbeth rushed forward and embraced her. “Lady Margaret,” she said brightly. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Lady Margaret responded as she took a step back. “We were on our way to the village for some shopping but I thought it best to call upon you first.”
“I am so glad that you did,” Elsbeth said. Despite her apprehension, Lady Margaret’s presence was always a comfort.
Turning towards a blonde-haired young woman, Lady Margaret provided the introductions. “Allow me to introduce you to my niece, Lady Eugenie. She has just completed her first Season.”
Elsbeth offered a polite smile, though her heart gave a slight pang. “How fortunate you are,” she said. At twenty years old, she had missed her chance to enjoy a Season, the opportunity snatched away by her father’s death and their subsequent fall from Society.
Lady Eugenie’s eyes held a twinkle of merriment. “Yes, though according to my brother, I failed miserably since I did not secure a husband.”
Gesturing towards Lord Westcott, his disinterest evident in his posture, Lady Margaret said, “And this is my nephew, Lord Westcott.”
He bowed. “My lady.”
Elsbeth knew what was expected of her and dropped into a curtsy. “My lord,” she murmured.
He gave her the faintest of smiles, one that barely reached his eyes, as though even that small effort taxed him. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, the words sounding more like an obligation than genuine sentiment.
“Likewise,” Elsbeth said.
Lady Margaret glanced at the doorway. “I was hoping your mother would be available to receive us.”
“She will be along shortly,” Elsbeth assured her. “May I get everyone a cup of tea while we wait?”
Lady Eugenie nodded. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
After settling her guests on the settee, Elsbeth reached for the teapot and began pouring. Her movements were deliberate, but her hands trembled slightly as she handed Lord Westcott his cup. Their gloved fingers brushed briefly, and she felt a sharp jolt shoot up her arm, leaving her momentarily breathless.
Good heavens. What was wrong with her? She had met handsome men before, but there was something about Lord Westcott that unsettled her, something that kept her ill at ease. Perhaps it was the nagging fear that he might somehow see through her mask of propriety and uncover her secret. She had stolen his pocket watch, after all. If he ever found out, her family would be ruined beyond repair.
She forced herself to meet his gaze, hoping to find some clue to his thoughts. His dark eyes were unreadable, his expressioncalm but distant. Did he know? Could he suspect? Or was she simply imagining the weight of his scrutiny?
Niles shifted in his chair as he attempted to conceal his growing irritation. Social calls like these were not his preference, but Aunt Margaret had insisted they visit Lady Elsbeth, and here he was. He would rather be anywhere else. It was always the same: young women batting their eyelashes and feigning interest in him, all because he was an earl. They saw the title, not the man.
