Page 45 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“We are going to be staying with the Haverstocks. Just visiting our childhood chums.”

“Do Priscilla and Timothy know about our visit?” Annabeth asked.

“No. I just now thought of it. But I’ll send a note this evening. There won’t be any problem. Sprague was a good friend.” A shadow touched his features.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth said, regretting her light tone. The death of the Haverstocks’ older brother had doubtless been very painful for Sloane. Aside from Annabeth herself, Sprague had been Sloane’s closest friend.

“It happens. People die.” Sloane turned to Nathan. “You see? All your fears for Annabeth’s reputation are answered.”

“I will go with you,” Nathan countered.

“And leave poor Miss Cole without protection at Stonecliffe?”

“I feel sure Miss Cole can manage without my protection,” Nathan said dryly.

“You have that right,” Verity agreed.

Sloane went on, “My curricle only seats two. And it would be rude of me to bring an uninvited guest to the Haverstocks’.”

“I should be the one—” Nathan began heatedly.

“For pity’s sake!” Lady Lockwood exclaimed, slamming her cane on the floor and setting off another round of barking from Petunia. “Stop all this pointless yammering. I agree with Rutherford’s plan. He and Annabeth will go hunt for this silly box. You will stay at your house, Nathan—which I must say, you should do more often than you do—and call on us at Stonecliffe frequently. It will be a trial putting up with Miss Cole, I grant you, but one must do what is necessary.”

Nathan swung toward Lady Lockwood in astonishment. “Surely you cannot countenance Annabeth traveling with him.”

“Under normal circumstances, I am sure that you would be adequate to protect Annabeth,” Lady Lockwood said. “But these men are clearly scoundrels. So it will take a scoundrel to defeat them.” She pointed her cane at Sloane.

“Just a moment,” Annabeth said crisply. “I hate to interrupt this discussion of what I ought to do and where I should go and who will accompany me, but I have to point out that I am the one in charge of my own actions.”

“Hear, hear,” Verity said with a grin.

“I must go to my father’s workshop with Sloane.” Annabeth went to Nathan, pained by his wounded expression, and took his hand. “Please, understand. I agree with Grandmother. Secrecy and danger are what Sloane has dealt in for years. Clearly you are the better person, the better man, but for this task, Sloane is the man I need.”

The crushed look in Nathan’s eyes made Annabeth wish she could pull the words back from the air. It made her wish with all her might that they weren’t true. Unfortunately, there was no taking them back. And she couldn’t pretend they were false.

Hurting Nathan made an answering hurt sweep through Annabeth, roiling her stomach. She could only console herself that once this was over and done with, she would never have to hurt Nathan again. She could forget about Sloane and move on with her life. And she would spend the rest of her years trying to make it up to Nathan.

“Please, trust me. This is what I have to do.”

Nathan simply looked at her for a long moment, then made a small nod of acceptance and squeezed her hand. However, he didn’t kiss her hand lightly as he often had done in the past. “Of course, Annabeth. I always trust you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THEY SET OUT the following morning for Stonecliffe, Annabeth, her grandmother, and Verity riding in Lady Lockwood’s large old-fashioned carriage. Nathan chose to ride his horse, politely saying that it would give the ladies more room. Annabeth wasn’t sure whether his true reason was to escape Lady Lockwood’s complaints, Petunia’s attacks on his boots, or Verity’s barbs. Probably all three. Annabeth pushed away the guilty voice that told her it was because he couldn’t stand to be in such close quarters with his fiancée after her decision.

When they reached Stonecliffe, Adeline greeted Annabeth and Lady Lockwood with her usual blend of delight and trepidation. Gil was unreservedly happy to greet them. He hugged Annabeth, executed a gentlemanly bow to his great-grandmother, followed by a kiss to her cheek when she bent down to him—as tough as Lady Lockwood was, she was enamored with Gil. He regarded Verity seriously for a moment then smiled at her, and took Nathan by the hand and whisked him away to see his new tin soldiers.

If Adeline thought it peculiar to have a woman in a maid’s cap and apron sit down with the other ladies, she was kind enough not to say it, and she listened with great interest to their tale. At the end, she said merely, “Well. I think it would be best if you drop the role of maid from the start here, Miss Cole, don’t you? I will make it clear that no one is to mention you to anyone outside the house, of course, but the less confusion among the servants the better. Gil will no doubt find it great fun to pretend that you are Annabeth.”

While the room was being prepared, Annabeth and Verity went up to Annabeth’s room, where Verity put on the clothes Annabeth had been wearing. She and Nathan took a stroll around the grounds with Gil, who, as his grandmother had said, found it a wonderful game and concocted a reason to shout Annabeth’s name at Verity whenever they were in the hearing of anyone.

Before dinner, Nathan and Annabeth took a stroll down the long gallery. There was a gravity in his manner, a sense of sadness that made her a trifle uneasy. He stopped at the library and said, “Let’s sit down in here. I need to talk to you.”

Annabeth’s uneasiness turned into alarm. “Nathan, what is it?”

He closed the library door behind them. “I thought about this all the way here. It’s—I—” He cleared his throat, then continued in a determined voice, “I have decided to break off our engagement.”

Annabeth stared at him, stunned, unable to find any words.