Page 83 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“It’s a cottage on the estate,” Diggs answered. “No one lives there now; not many people even know about it.”

Bushes snagged Noelle’s skirts, and she stumbled once or twice on the uneven ground. It had been a busy day, and the numerous emotional jolts she had received added to her weariness. She was beginning to think she might have to ask Diggs to stop for a rest when he said, “There it is. Just up ahead.”

She could make out a vague, dark form in the small clearing in front of them, and as they drew nearer, the shape resolved itself into a bare and bleak little cottage. The windows were shuttered, and when Diggs pushed open the door, the hinges screeched. The light of Diggs’s lantern left shadowy corners in the room. Noelle shivered and wished she had paused to get a wrap before they left the Hall.

“There’s a bed in here, ma’am, such as it is.” Diggs led the way into a smaller room and laid Gil down on the narrow cot. Gil sighed in his sleep and turned onto his side. Diggs turned toward the door. “I’ll, um, let you get some rest.”

He left, taking the lantern with him and closing the door. The room was pitch-black, and Noelle thought for a moment of calling Diggs back and searching for a candle, but it seemed too much effort. Better just to go to sleep.

Noelle sat down on the foot of the bed and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. It was the first moment of peace and quiet she had experienced, the first chance to think over the tumultuous and confusing events of the day.

How could she have been so wrong about Nathan? How could all of them have been so wrong? Adeline was a loving and generous soul, someone who saw the best in everyone, so it was not surprising that she had not caught on to the flaws in Nathan’s character. But Carlisle and Annabeth, both sensible, levelheaded people, had been friends with him their entire lives, yet they, too, had had no suspicion of what lay beneath his facade.

She shivered, thinking of how close Gil had come to death. It had been horribly wrong to leave Gil in Nathan’s care. No matter how pleasant and well-liked he was, she shouldn’t have entrusted her son to a man she had known for such a short time. Yes, she had gone with Carlisle to investigate the matter because her son was in danger, but if she was honest, she would admit that Carlisle could have done it just as well without her. Guiltily, she knew that part of the reason she had been so determined to talk to Sloane and the others was because it gave her a chance to be alone with Carlisle.

She was very lucky that Nathan had not tried to harm Gil earlier, when Diggs hadn’t been there to intervene. Why, she wondered, had he not done so at the first opportunity, when she and Carlisle traveled to Sloane’s house? He couldn’t have been certain that he would have another chance. Perhaps he had thought it would appear too obvious for Gil to die while under his care.

But if so, why had he decided to kill Gil tonight? And with Diggs sitting guard? Surely he had realized the possibility of Diggs waking up and discovering him. He could have slipped something into Diggs’s food, as well, to make him sleep. But then why had Diggs awakened so quickly? Gil was still sound asleep. He was smaller than Diggs, but still, it seemed peculiar. She would have to discuss it with Carlisle when he arrived.

Gil stirred, mumbling in his sleep. It reassured her somewhat that he was merely in a drugged sleep, not irreversibly harmed by the sleeping draught Nathan had given him. She stretched out beside her son, one hand laid protectively on him.

Noelle was almost asleep when a clatter outside brought her wide awake. She waited, muscles tensed. There was some rustling and a man’s curse, followed by the neigh of a horse. The pony. Of course. Diggs must have pulled the pony cart around back and taken the horse from his harness. She doubted that Diggs, a city man, was well versed in unhitching a pony from its cart.

She relaxed and once more settled in to sleep, but before she could, Gil began to squirm, mumbling again. “Don’t wanna. No, I won’t.”

Noelle went up on her elbow, peering down at him. “Gil? Love, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up. Gil?”

“No!” he said clearly, flinging his arm out and hitting her shoulder. “Stop... Maman! À moi!”

His weak panicky whisper was like a knife to Noelle’s heart. “I’m here, love. I’m right here. It’s all right. You’re safe.” She took him in her arms, caressing his back soothingly and murmuring words of reassurance.

“Mama?” He stilled and his eyes flew open. “Mama?” Gil threw his arms around her neck and clung to her.

“Yes, I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Good.” His arms relaxed and he snuggled into her.

“Darling, do you remember? Did Mr. Dunbridge make you drink something?”

“Nuh-uh.” He yawned enormously and his eyes drifted closed. “Was Diggs.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

DIGGS? NOELLE STIFFENED. Her heart began to race, and any thought she had entertained of going to sleep vanished. “Diggs did it?” She shook him gently. “Gil, wake up. Tell me. Did Diggs make you drink something?”

He nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”

For a moment Noelle was too stunned to think. Then her mind began to race. Why had the pony cart been waiting for them at the bottom of the garden? She hadn’t really questioned it at the time. She’d been too tired, too fearful for Gil to even consider it odd.

When had Diggs hitched up the cart and positioned it there? When she left the room to go to Gil, Diggs had still been talking with Carlisle. Only a few minutes later he had walked into Gil’s room. How could he have gone out to the stables, hitched up the pony cart, taken it to the edge of the garden, and still made it to Gil’s room in that amount of time?

He could have requested that the pony cart be brought to the garden, but that would have entailed him telling a footman to tell a groom and thereby revealing his plans to two servants—when Diggs had told her not to tell anyone they were leaving. The only thing that made sense was that Diggs had placed the pony cart at the edge of the garden earlier that evening. Before he shot Nathan.

Why would Diggs have been planning to take Gil away? Carlisle wouldn’t have given his man such instructions before he and Noelle left on their trip.

No, Diggs had been acting on his own, and he had intended to take Gil away all along. It was difficult to think of any reason for his doing so that wasn’t nefarious. Diggs fit as the villain—it was he, after all, who had found out where she was every time in Europe. Carlisle believed Diggs told his men only to ask her to return to live at Stonecliffe, but that didn’t mean Diggs had actually done so. That night when the ruffian had grabbed Gil in Seven Dials, Diggs would have known where his guard was sitting, keeping an eye on the millinery shop; he could have put the sleeping draught in his employee’s drink and sent a different man after her and Gil.

But why? Diggs wasn’t an heir. But he could have been paid by some man who would benefit. Had he been working for Nathan? But then why would he have shot him? No, it seemed more likely that Nathan had discovered Diggs kidnapping Gil, and that had caused the altercation. So Nathan was not the villain. But then why had Nathan lied to them about the tontine?