Page 47 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

Noelle studied him. So this was the man who had broken Annabeth’s heart. He certainly looked more than capable of breaking a woman’s heart—or any number of things. Tall and whipcord thin, he was fiercely handsome. Though he was not as large a man as Carlisle, he exuded raw power. Lean and sleek and dangerous, he made Noelle think of a great cat, a panther, perhaps. His eyes were a bright blue, in startling contrast to the thick black lashes that rimmed them. His wealth of black hair was shaggier and longer than was fashionable, adding to the aura of wildness that clung to him. It wasn’t hard to see the attraction. It was more difficult, however, for her to picture him with the quiet, contained Annabeth.

Carlisle rose to his feet and faced Sloane, ice to the other man’s fire. “Actually, we came here to speak to you.”

“Sloane, what a way to greet our guests,” Marcus said mildly. “You might have noticed, there is a lady present.”

Sloane’s eyes flickered over Noelle with indifference. “Excuse me, ma’am.” He turned back to Carlisle. “I have nothing to say to you, so you can turn around and go now.”

Marcus heaved a sigh. “Really, Sloane, what is the matter with talking to Carlisle?”

“We aren’t a part of his family.”

“Well, of course not. Carlisle’s father wasn’t related to us, but my brother was most fond of him.”

“I’m quite aware that he is accepted by Drewsbury’s family. It is you and I who are not; the earl made that abundantly clear years ago.”

“He didn’t cut Marcus out of the family.” Carlisle rose to the earl’s defense. “Nor you either. He wanted to pay for your education. You refused his offer.”

“Ah, yes, an education so I could serve as his lawyer or maybe his man of business.”

“You seem to be a man of business now.”

“Of my business. Not the earl’s lackey.”

Carlisle started to retort, but Noelle cut in. “Mr. Rutherford, we are not here to discuss family history. I am Adam Rutherford’s widow.”

He turned to her with a long, considering look. “I heard he had married...”

“Someone unsuitable. Yes,” Noelle finished crisply. “Unlike Mr. Thorne, I have no affection for the late Lord Drewsbury. No one is asking you to either. But I must point out that you are being very childish.”

“Childish!” Sloane stared at her in slack-jawed surprise. Carlisle let out a snort of laughter.

“Yes,” Noelle went on in the same firm voice she used when correcting her son. “Refusing to talk to us because the earl hurt your feelings is the reaction of a pouting child. Whatever you like to say, we all know that you are a Rutherford, and it is for that reason that we need to talk to you.”

Rutherford glanced from her to Carlisle, his anger fading into wariness. “What are you talking about?”

“Adam’s son, Gilbert, inherited the title and estate when Lord Drewsbury died since Adam had already passed on,” Carlisle began.

Sloane nodded. “And?”

“Your father would be next in line if anything happened to Gilbert.” Carlisle looked into Sloane’s eyes as he went on, “Someone shot at Gilbert the other day.”

“Shot at him? What do you mean? An accident? A poacher?”

“It would be a handy solution,” Carlisle said. “But it’s a little hard to believe it was an accident since he was also nearly kidnapped in London a month ago. Before that he and his mother were attacked in European cities at least twice.”

Sloane stared. “You think someone is trying to kill the boy? But why come here?” He went utterly still. “Are you accusing my father of trying to do away with Adam’s son? You can’t be serious.”

“I wasn’t talking about your father.”

“Me. You’re accusing me of attempted murder.” Sloane swung away, letting out a bitter laugh. “Of course. Someone shot off a gun near this child, so naturally I am trying to murder him.”

“You and your father are the only ones who would profit from his death,” Carlisle said flatly. “Where were you on Monday, Sloane?”

“Not shooting at some lad at Stonecliffe, I’ll tell you that.”

“Odd that you should know it took place at the estate.”

“Where the hell else would it be?” Sloane snapped. “I don’t know what is going on, but it has nothing to do with me or my father. I don’t even know this child. I never heard his name until you said it just now. It may surprise you, but I don’t keep up with the doings of the earl’s family. I don’t give a damn about inheriting the estate, and I have no interest in that bloody title either. I don’t expect you to believe my word since you clearly assume I am a man who would murder a child. But have some sense—look around.” He swept his arm across the well-appointed room. “I don’t need a house. I already have three of them. I don’t need Drewsbury’s money. I have more of it than he did, I’ll wager. Look at my past—a man who cares about his claim to aristocracy doesn’t go into smuggling.”