Charles stepped forward immediately, offering his arm with a respectful bow. “Allow me to escort you, Aunt Isabella.”
“Thank you, Charles,” her mother said with a faint smile, accepting his arm.
Together, they walked towards the dining room in a silence that felt heavier than usual. Elsbeth followed behind, her thoughts still swirling with doubt and unease.
When they reached the dining room, the footmen stood ready to serve. Everyone took their seats as the footmen placed bowls of rich soup in front of them.
Elsbeth picked up her spoon and took a sip. The warmth of the soup did little to ease the chill settling in her chest.
Her mother broke the silence, her voice bright but carrying an edge of forced cheer. “The soiree is just two days away,” she said, looking across the table at Elsbeth. “I was hoping you might play a piece on the pianoforte for our guests.”
Elsbeth glanced up from her bowl. “Of course, Mother. I’d be happy to.”
Her mother looked pleased by her response. “Thank you, Dear. I know everyone will enjoy it.”
Charles remained silent, his expression unreadable as he spooned his soup. Elsbeth tried to focus on the simple act of eating, but her mind drifted back to her father, to Alfred, to the questions that seemed to grow louder with every passing moment.
Across the table, Charles placed his spoon down and wiped his mouth with a white linen napkin. “Would you care to go riding tomorrow, Elsbeth?”
Before she could respond, her mother interjected. “I do not think that is a wise decision, considering Elsbeth is still recovering from her last fall.”
“I think I would be fine,” Elsbeth countered. “I’ve missed my morning rides, and the fresh air would do me good.”
Her mother’s skeptical gaze lingered on her, the lines of worry deepening around her eyes. “And what if you fall again?” she asked pointedly.
“I won’t,” Elsbeth said quickly. “I’ll be cautious, I promise.”
Her mother’s expression softened slightly. “You always promise to be cautious, and yet trouble seems to follow you.”
Charles chuckled softly, but his humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll ensure she doesn’t get into any trouble,” he offered.
“I appreciate that, Charles,” her mother said. “Just don’t stay out too long. We have much to do to prepare for the soiree.”
“Of course,” Charles replied, his polite smile unchanging.
Elsbeth looked between the two of them, her frustration bubbling just below the surface. She felt like a child being managed rather than a woman capable of making her own decisions. “Thank you for your concern, Mother, but I will be fine. I do not need a nursemaid following me about.”
Her mother gave a reluctant nod. “Point taken, but please, do be careful.”
“I will,” Elsbeth promised.
Charles met her gaze briefly, and she wondered what his true intentions were. Was he offering to ride with her as an act of protection or something more? Regardless, she would need to remain vigilant.
The rest of the meal passed in polite conversation, but Elsbeth’s thoughts remained distant. Tomorrow would bring answers—or so she hoped.
With shafts of the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, Niles paced the length of the drawing room, his boots tapping against the polished floor. His thoughts were a whirlwind, all circling the same point: Elsbeth. He was worried, deeply so, and the hours seemed to drag unbearably as he waited for a respectable time to call upon her. The gnawing need to see her, to confirm she was safe, consumed him entirely, leaving no room for rational thought.
Eugenie’s voice broke through his turbulent musings. “Will you kindly stop pacing?” she asked, her tone carrying a playful edge. “You’re making me anxious just watching you.”
Niles halted abruptly and turned to face his sister, who sat perched on the settee, a book resting in her lap. “I’m sorry. I was just?—”
“I know what you’re doing,” Eugenie interrupted, a knowing smile curving her lips. “You’re waiting for the appropriate hour to call upon Elsbeth. But at this rate, you’ll wear a path into the carpet.”
His brows knitted in surprise. “And how could you possibly know that?”
Her smug expression deepened. “Brother, you’re many things, but subtle is not one of them. It’s written all over your face. You care for Elsbeth.”
For a moment, he considered denying it, brushing her observation aside. But what purpose would that serve? He had spent too long denying his feelings already. “I do care for her,” he admitted, sinking into the chair opposite her. “But there can be no future for us.”
