Page 6 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“I expect he’s grateful that I pay your bills on time, unlike most of his aristocratic clients,” Sloane said dryly.

“And I’ll have the entire afternoon to enjoy the prospect of the wedding,” Marcus went on.

“A wedding?” Sloane asked skeptically. “You look forward to weddings?”

“Not everyone is as much of a hermit as you are. Some of us find social occasions agreeable.”

“I’m not a hermit.”

“Mmm, yes. No doubt that’s why you spend so much time alone, brooding. Cornwall suits you perfectly.” Marcus picked up the cup of tea the footman had just set before him and took a sip, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “But this wedding, I must admit, offers rather more entertainment than the usual one.”

Sloane made no response. The last topic he wanted to discuss was this wedding.

But his father needed no reply. He went on, “For one thing, there is Noelle, the lovely bride herself, and the potential of gossip over her scandalous past.”

“I can’t see how running from Thorne is any scandal,” Sloane interjected. “Anyone with sense would do so. I find it far stranger that she stopped.”

Marcus chuckled. “Yes, he is a dull one, isn’t he? But I suspect Noelle livens him up. Still, the wedding offers more excitement than that. Lady Lockwood can always be counted on to cause some sort of contretemps...though hopefully she will not bring her dog. Of course Lord Edgerton will be there. I believe he annoys her ladyship even more than her first son-in-law—who knows what barbs she will cast his way?” He paused, then added, “And just imagine the stir if you show up.”

Sloane grunted and slid back from the table, standing. “Which is precisely why I am not going to the wedding.”

“Of course not. That’s why you haven’t tossed out that invitation. Why you were sitting there mooning over it when I came in.”

“I wasn’t mooning over anything. I was just...” He trailed off his sentence with a grimace.

“You were just contemplating whether facing down your relatives outweighed the prospect of seeing Annabeth Winfield.”

“I don’t give a tinker’s damn about facing my relatives.”

“Ah...then it’s whether seeing Annabeth is worth the pain.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Sloane’s voice held little conviction, and he turned away, walking over to the window. He crossed his arms and gazed out at the street below. A moment passed, and he said in a quiet voice, “It would be foolish to see her.”

“No doubt.” Marcus let out a sigh. “The foolish things are always the ones you most desire.”

“I’ve done well enough not seeing her for eleven years.” Being out of the country most of that time had helped. But even since he returned to England, Sloane had avoided Annabeth—well, maybe there was that one time when he first returned and he’d stood outside Lady Lockwood’s house in the dark to get a glimpse of Annabeth coming down the front steps and getting into a carriage. With Nathan. Sloane’s lips tightened at the thought.

It had come as something of a shock to see her at Stonecliffe two months ago. He had not realized that she and Lady Lockwood were visiting or he wouldn’t have gone there.

But as he had stood in the entryway with Noelle and the others, a door had opened down the hall, and there she had been: her soft brown hair in a little disarray, her face faintly flushed from activity, carrying a basket full of flowers. And in the moment, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, could only stare. She was as lovely as ever. And he was as dumbstruck as ever.

He’d turned and left like someone had shot at him. He wasn’t sure whether he even tossed a goodbye to Noelle and Carlisle. And bloody Nathan—of course he’d been there. That moment had disrupted Sloane’s carefully nurtured indifference, and even after his heart stopped beating like a madman’s and he’d reminded himself that he’d gotten over her years ago, he had not been able to keep his mind from going back to Annabeth time after time. Like a tongue returning to a bad tooth.

Behind him his father said, “Why do you continue like this? Why don’t you go to see her, tell her how you feel?”

Sloane snorted. “I’d have to fight my way through the butler and probably Lady Lockwood, too, to talk to her.”

“I’ve never known you to avoid a fight.”

“Maybe not. But I can’t fight Annabeth. And she’s the one who hates me.”

“How do you know that?” Marcus persisted. “She’s never married in all this time. She has no money, of course, but a sweet, pretty girl like that? She’s bound to have had plenty of offers.”

“No doubt.” Sloane’s jaw tightened. “But that doesn’t mean she’s been pining after me. I broke her heart. I knew I was breaking her heart. And the fact that I broke mine as well wouldn’t have made her feel any better or despise me any less.”

“Why don’t you tell her the truth?” His father’s voice turned sharp, his usual affability gone. “Explain what you did. Why you did it. Tell her that bastard Asquith blackmailed you into it.”

Sloane whirled, his eyes flashing. “I can’t tell her that. The truth would cause her just as much pain now as it would have then. I knew when I did it that I was sacrificing her love for a lifetime. I just thought my lifetime wouldn’t last very long.”