Page 100 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

Sloane looked over at Verity. “It was you who was supposed to be kidnapped, not Annabeth. Annabeth threw herself into the fight, though, so they took both of you.”

“But why was he trying to kill me?” Annabeth asked. “Clearly I was not the same kind of threat as you or Verity.”

“In fact, you were right, Annabeth, about all the attacks being meant for me. Frankly, I think Asquith would have been happy to have me killed even without the issue of the confession. He hates me almost as much as I hate him.”

“Because he thought you would be an easy pawn in his scheme, and instead you turned out to be too good at your job,” Annabeth said.

“He was concerned that I might realize that he was double-crossing us. Unfortunately, I apparently am not as smart as he thought.”

“I didn’t realize it either,” Verity said. “I suppose Asquith was also the one who betrayed us all those times during the war.”

Sloane nodded. “Apparently Winfield was the only one that was aware of the true traitorous nature of Asquith. Hunter even kept an order from Asquith for information about British troops in Portugal. It was written in code.” He looked over at Verity.

“Our code?” she asked.

“Yes. And it was signed with a drawing of a spider. Feringham brought me that note this morning. Hunter gave it to Russell not long before he was killed. That’s when I realized Asquith was behind this.”

“I still don’t understand why he would have killed my father. He wasn’t involved in spying anymore. You had gotten him out of the whole mess unscathed.” Annabeth squeezed Sloane’s hand.

“Asquith had continued to keep tabs on him,” Sloane said slowly. “Unfortunately, the man who was following Hunter overheard Mr. Winfield tell Russell that he was going to confess. It seems that Asquith mistakenly thought he was naming his spymaster in his confession.”

Annabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “But he didn’t. He didn’t incriminate anyone but himself.”

Sloane squeezed Annabeth and she let herself melt into him—not caring about Nathan or Verity or impropriety. There was nothing to be said that would make the injustice of it all seem better, but she found some comfort in Sloane’s arms.

“Even in his last days, though, Hunter wanted to protect you and Martha and Russell. That’s why he gave Feringham that note. He said if there was ever trouble that he could use it as proof if he needed it.”

“That’s what Asquith was talking about,” Annabeth said. “When I gave him the confession, he asked me if there was anything else. I thought it was peculiar, and then he told me that he knew about Papa’s racing, and that’s when I started to suspect him. How did he know about that, anyway?”

“He knew more secrets than you can imagine,” Verity said. “He had informers all over the place—barkeeps, tavern maids, servants, in gentlemen’s clubs, gambling dens. He paid them or used some secret he knew about them to get them to spy on others. His name was very accurate. He was a spider with a web of secrets all around him.”

Silence fell on the room, and they glanced at one another. There seemed nothing else to say.

“Well,” Verity said after a moment, rising to her feet. “That’s that, then. It’s over.”

“Yes. I suppose it is.” Sloane nodded.

“I, um, I think I will go upstairs and pack then.” She paused. “It feels a little odd, leaving here.”

Annabeth stood up as well. “I will miss you.”

To her surprise, Verity hugged her. “I will miss you, too.” She turned around, and her gaze went to Nathan. “Not you, of course. Although it will be a bit lacking, not having someone to peck at.”

“Indeed. I shall doubtless miss your barbs as well,” Nathan said dryly.

“But perhaps we’ll run into each other somewhere.” She grinned. “You never know where I might show up.”

Verity left the room, and Nathan, after a glance at the two of them, took his leave as well. Annabeth looked at Sloane for a moment. She had so many things she had planned to say to him earlier, before they had both almost been killed. But now they seemed too small, too inadequate to describe the immensity of her feelings.

And then suddenly she was in his arms, kissing him, as his arms pulled tight around her. She knew it said more than her words ever could.

“Anna... Anna...” Sloane planted light kisses all over her face and burrowed his face into her neck. “I was so scared. When I came in and saw you with Asquith’s knife at your throat, I thought it was all over, and I’d never even told you...” His mouth took hers again.

She pulled her lips away to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Her hands dug into his shoulders. “Told me what?”

“How much I love you. How much I want to marry you. How my life would be unbearable if you weren’t in it.”

“I’ll always be in it,” she said in a low, fierce voice, stepping back a bit to look into his eyes. “You cannot chase me away no matter how much you try. If you think I would let a little thing like your rejection yesterday keep me from you, you are wrong.”