Page 46 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

This must be Sloane’s father, for he was too old to be Sloane. His dark hair was streaked with dramatic swaths of silver at the sides, and lines were thick at the corners of his eyes and mouth. His eyes were a bright, vivid blue, his features even, and his smile just a touch wicked. Even though his jawline was beginning to blur, his flesh softening with age, it was easy to see in him the handsome, charming man Adeline had described.

“Allow me to introduce Noelle, Lady Rutherford,” Carlisle said.

“Adam’s wife?” His eyes sparkled, his lips curving up, and he bowed smoothly over Noelle’s hand. “I am delighted to meet you.” His voice turned low and silky. “I knew Adam would have married a beauty, but you are a diamond of the first water, my dear.”

Noelle felt Carlisle stiffen beside her and take a half step forward, but this was something she knew how to handle. She gave Marcus a dazzling smile as she deftly slipped her hand from his and stepped back. “I am so pleased to meet Adam’s uncle.”

“Pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He cast an amused glance at Carlisle. “Don’t worry, Carlisle, I shan’t do anything inappropriate. Surely an old man is allowed to flirt a bit with a beautiful young woman. Please, sit down, both of you. I would ask you what brought you here, but I enjoy too much the opportunity to chat, so let’s save that till later. I told Everson to bring tea. You must be thirsty and tired after such a long journey.” He took Noelle’s arm, guiding her to the sofa. “My condolences. I was sorry to hear about Adam. I liked the boy—he was the best of that lot.”

“He was very talented.”

“Yes, indeed. There was life in him. I was astonished that he could have sprung from someone as dull as my brother.” He cast a glance over at Carlisle. “Now, don’t puff up like a partridge over that. I know you were devoted to Thomas. I’m not saying Thomas wasn’t a good man. He made an excellent earl—certainly better than our father, who was not such a good man. I’m simply pointing out that Thomas was boring. Something Adam never was.”

“No, he wasn’t that,” Noelle murmured.

“Tell me about you, dear girl. I was under the impression that Carlisle had managed to misplace you.”

Noelle’s lips twitched as Carlisle made a noise deep in his throat. “Mr. Thorne and I had, um, a misunderstanding. But my son and I are now living at Stonecliffe with the countess.”

“Your son? Ah, yes, Adam had a child. I had forgotten.”

“Gilbert inherited the title,” Carlisle said, watching the man closely.

The other man gave him an odd look. “Well, yes, naturally.”

“Has your son mentioned Gilbert?” Carlisle continued.

“Sloane?” Marcus looked taken aback. “Why would Sloane have mentioned him? I doubt he has any idea that the boy exists.”

“We came here hoping to talk to Sloane. Is he here?”

“Oh, no, he’s off somewhere; I forget. The boy’s always running here or there. He really hasn’t any idea how to be a man of leisure, I’m afraid.” He sent a twinkling glance Noelle’s way. “A skill, as you can see, that I have completely mastered.”

“It’s too bad he doesn’t stay to enjoy his lovely home,” Noelle offered.

“He didn’t buy this old hulk for himself.” Marcus gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “He got it so he could stash me somewhere far away from the lures of London. I say...” He brightened and turned to Carlisle. “Perhaps you’d fancy a game of whist.”

“No, sir, I’m afraid I can’t,” Carlisle said, his tone tinged with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Marcus shrugged. “I haven’t enough money to make it interesting anyway. Sloane will play it with me for matchsticks,” he said scornfully. “Can you imagine? He doesn’t understand. It’s the risk that makes it fun. I think perhaps the boy is a changeling. The fairies snatched my son from the cradle and replaced him with a bookkeeper’s child.” He tilted his head, studying Carlisle. “Of course, as I remember, you are rather a dull sort, too. Why are you looking for Sloane? The two of you were never friends.”

“No, we weren’t. It’s...something about the estate. How long has Sloane been gone? Do you remember when he left?”

“Oh, Lord, weeks ago. He’s usually in London. Did you try there?”

“Yes, we called at his house, but the servant seemed to think he was here.”

“No, I fear not. You could write him a note if you’d like. I shan’t remember to give it to him, I’m sure, but the butler will. Sloane should return soon. He doesn’t like to leave me on my own too long. Afraid I’ll pack up and leave. There’s not much likelihood of that—not that escaping hasn’t crossed my mind. But, sadly, I’ve reached the age where it seems too much trouble. Sloane would simply track me down, and then there’d be all that tiresome lecturing.”

“I’m sorry. Do you mean your son holds you prisoner here?” Noelle asked.

“Mmm. Pleasant jail cell, isn’t it?” The man glanced around. His gaze returned to her, and he laughed. “No, no, my dear, you needn’t look so horrified. Much as I welcome your sympathy, Sloane doesn’t force me to stay here. He banks on my laziness to win out over a few games of chance. It’s why he picked this godforsaken spot. Besides,” he added confidingly, “no one will play with me anymore now; they know I haven’t a farthing.”

There was the sound of the front door opening and a low exchange of voices in the entry hall, ending with a man letting out a loud exclamation. “Who? What the devil is he doing here?”

“Ah, that must be Sloane now,” Marcus said cheerfully. “How serendipitous.”

Boots thudded across the marble floor, and a man strode into the room. He had obviously been riding, his boots splattered with mud and his black hair wind-tossed. He strode to Carlisle’s chair, looming over him in intimidation. “Thorne. What do you mean, barging in here and harassing my father?”