Page 40 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“Marcus Rutherford is the younger brother of the late earl.” Carlisle’s voice was clipped. “Sloane is his son—Adam’s older cousin.”

Noelle frowned. “I can’t recall Adam mentioning him.”

“He wouldn’t have known him well. Sloane and his father were not regular visitors here, and it’s been twelve years since Sloane...left.”

“Left? Sloane’s not in England?” Noelle asked. “Then how could he have done it?”

“Unfortunately, he returned,” Nathan said, rising to his feet and walking restlessly to the fireplace, then back.

“Marcus and my Thomas didn’t get along well,” Adeline said in an aside to Noelle. Noelle squelched the urge to ask who the old earl did get along with, and Adeline went on, “Marcus is... He has a number of bad habits.”

“Marcus is a drunkard,” Carlisle said in his usual blunt manner. “A gambler and a wastrel. They say he has a charming way about him, but I have never seen him aught but drunk and importuning the earl.”

“He was charming,” Adeline said, smiling faintly at the memory. “And quite handsome. Some believe he was the best-looking of the Rutherford men, but I always found Thomas much more attractive. They say Sloane takes after Marcus—in looks, I mean. Sloane is decidedly not charming; he’s...well, he is not a nice man.”

“Not a nice man” was a scathing review for the countess. Noelle looked over at Carlisle, knowing he would not mince words.

“Sloane became a smuggler,” Carlisle told her.

“Smuggler?” Nathan snorted. “He’s a traitor.”

“What?” Noelle’s eyes rounded.

“There’s no proof of that,” Carlisle put in.

“He conspired with the French,” Nathan bit out. “Then he helped the French in America plot to free Napoleon. Why do you defend him?”

“I’m not defending Sloane,” Carlisle said evenly. “The man is a scoundrel.” He turned to Noelle and said carefully, “Sloane hurt someone we are all very fond of.”

“Annabeth. Why not say it?” Nathan grated out. “He broke her heart, and then he went off to spy for the French.”

“He turned to smuggling, and there were rumors that he was in league with the French,” Carlisle said in a more restrained manner. “Sloane moved to America afterward, and there were, again, rumors that he was working with the French in the West Indies and Louisiana to free Bonaparte. No one knows exactly what he did, but a year or so ago, he returned to England a wealthy man.”

“You can bet that whatever he did to make a fortune, it was immoral, if not illegal.” Nathan scowled. “Probably much the same thing as the ventures he’s entered into since he returned.”

“Yes, well, we needn’t go into that.” Carlisle cast a cautious eye at Adeline.

“You needn’t shelter me, dear,” Adeline said. “Mother has kept me well-informed of the things Sloane has been up to.” She turned to Noelle. “He owns gambling clubs and taverns, as well as a distillery in Scotland.” Adeline sighed and shook her head. “I always felt sorry for the boy. His mother died when he was young, and Marcus was never a good father. I know that doesn’t excuse his actions, but...” She shook her head. “This is all so dreadful.”

“We don’t know that he’s behind it,” Carlisle told Adeline soothingly. “Don’t worry. I’m not bringing charges against him...yet. But I agree with Nathan. Sloane is the likeliest culprit. He never had any honor.” He frowned. “He refused to face me again.”

“Ha!” Nathan let out a laugh. “You lose one horse race in your entire life and it will haunt you forever.”

“He’s better at riding than you are?” Noelle raised her eyebrows. It was hard to gauge Carlisle’s level of skill when most of the time he was riding at a languorous trot that Gil could keep up with. But she had just seen him ride at a fierce pace, sailing over the hedge with ease.

“He is not a better horseman than I am,” Carlisle replied firmly. “I had one poor day, and he managed to squeak out a slight win. And then, though he’d been bedeviling me for years to race him, Sloane was suddenly uninterested in another wager.”

“That’s because he finally got what he wanted. To be the winner. That’s all Sloane has ever cared about.”

“But that is not—” Carlisle cast a repressive look at Nathan “—why I think we should investigate him. Nathan’s right. Sloane is the one who would benefit from getting Gil out of the way. Diggs can look into his businesses in London; clubs and taverns would be likely places for Sloane to find someone to handle such a thing for him. But as for Sloane—I’ll talk to him myself.”

“I’ll go with you,” Nathan volunteered.

“You interrogating Sloane Rutherford? I think not. He won’t answer, just take jabs at you, and you’ll not believe anything he says unless he confesses to it all.” When Nathan opened his mouth to protest, Carlisle added, “Besides, I need you here. I could be gone several days. If Sloane isn’t in London, I’ll have to go to his country house. I can’t leave the ladies and Gilbert unprotected.”

There was no way Nathan could continue to argue after that. He nodded. “Yes, of course. I will stay here while you’re gone.”

“Good. Thank you.” Carlisle turned to the two women. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow. But you will be perfectly safe. Nathan will be here, and I’m going to put a footman guarding every outside door. Gilbert will have to forego his riding for the meantime, and he should stay out of the garden. He can play in the courtyard in front, with a footman accompanying him. I’d prefer the rest of you keep to the house, as well. I apologize for the restrictions, but I must be certain you’re safe.”