Page 63 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“My father was only a few years older than they,” Nathan added. “Though his health was never particularly good, so none of us thought much of it.”

“Are you saying that there was something suspicious about their deaths?” Lady Lockwood glared so hard at Nathan that he finally mumbled, “No, ma’am,” and turned his attention to his teacup. Lady Lockwood turned her stare on Annabeth. “You two are both being absurd. Who has ever heard of such a thing? A Lockwood? Murdered?”

Noelle had never thought of homicide as a social solecism before. She made the mistake of meeting Carlisle’s gaze, and she had to struggle to suppress a giggle.

Annabeth, accustomed to her grandmother, said, “We weren’t saying they were murdered. But it seems odd, and given what’s been happening...well, doesn’t it make you wonder?”

“You read too much,” Lady Lockwood told her. “Gives you peculiar ideas.”

“It does seem unusual,” Noelle said to Annabeth.

“There was nothing suspicious about your father’s death,” Lady Lockwood told her granddaughter.

“No, but—”

Lady Lockwood plowed on. “And my poor Sterling died from a fever; he always had a weak chest. As for your father...” She turned to Carlisle. “He tried to take a fence he shouldn’t have. Nathan, your father drank himself to death and we all know it. No point beating about the bush or calling it bad health.”

Nathan, who had been midsip as Lady Lockwood turned her blunt words on him, coughed into his teacup.

“My heavens, Dunbridge, mind your manners,” Lady Lockwood admonished him. “It’s excessively common to spit into one’s cup. There are ladies present. You should ring for the serving girl to bring you a fresh cup.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nathan set the tea down and coughed into his handkerchief.

Noelle clamped her teeth tightly together. This was no time to be laughing. Even in the face of Lady Lockwood’s own lack of manners.

“Yes, ma’am, and the earl suffered a heart attack,” Carlisle cut in, obviously trying to take her attention off Nathan. “I agree that it’s a trifle strange, but I think it was only a twist of fate. For all we know, the rest of the men are still alive. I intend to find out everything I can about the tontine and what happened to the men. I am going to look through the earl’s papers again, and, if need be, I’ll go back to my house and search it for any clue my father might have left.” He glanced at Annabeth with a touch of sympathy. “But we can’t ignore that the simplest, likeliest suspect is Sloane. I’m sorry.”

“What nonsense,” Lady Lockwood said. “Marcus may be a wastrel and his son’s a scoundrel, but they are still Rutherfords.”

Family status seemed to be Lady Lockwood’s standard for determining everyone’s guilt or innocence.

“Well, it has to be someone,” Carlisle retorted. Noelle thought she actually could hear his teeth grinding.

“It was just a poacher,” Lady Lockwood decreed. “Sort of thing happens all the time. Or...if it wasn’t some silly accident, the far more likely answer is right here.” She wagged her spoon at Noelle. “Any woman who looks like her is bound to have a disappointed swain or two running about. And she’s been living among suspicious sorts of people—Frenchmen and Italians and such.”

This time Noelle couldn’t restrain a bark of laughter. Quickly turning it into a cough, she pressed her napkin to her mouth to smother it.

“Grandmother!” Annabeth exclaimed. “You’re being very rude.”

“I’m being rude?” Lady Lockwood gestured between Nathan and Noelle with her spoon. “These two are the ones coughing madly. You’d think the whole room suddenly caught consumption. Now, don’t you start, too,” she went on as Annabeth clapped her hand to her own mouth. “Besides, it’s not rude; it’s simply the truth. No need to be mealymouthed about it. We’re all family.”

“We are not all family,” Carlisle snapped. “I, for one, am no relation to any of you. And Noelle doesn’t have any ‘swains’ running about. I certainly hope you don’t intend to put it out that Noelle’s past is anything but respectable.”

Lady Lockwood gaped at him. “Whatever is the matter with you? Of course I’m not going to say anything in public. The boy’s my great-grandson. But one has to consider the facts.”

“The facts are clear,” Carlisle retorted, his jaw set. “Diggs has found no threat from anyone from the Continent. The miscreant is right here, and I daresay he’s English.”

As the two of them glared at each other, Annabeth said, “I’m sure Grandmother didn’t mean anything unkind about Lady Rutherford.”

“No,” Noelle agreed, clearing her throat. “Lady Lockwood would never say anything that would harm the family. Thank you for your support, Mr. Thorne, but I imagine some would say her line of reasoning is a valid possibility.” Her last words held a sardonic twist.

Carlisle turned a sharp gaze her way, then grimaced, murmuring, “Point taken.” Visibly relaxing his shoulders, he nodded to Lady Lockwood. “I apologize if I have given you any offense, Lady Lockwood. I fear my temper is a bit on edge these days.”

“Of course.” Lady Lockwood swept the matter away with a flick of her hand. “Your father always looked just so when he was being mulish.”

Noelle finished her tea quickly and escaped before laughter could overtake her again. She heard footsteps hurrying after her, and Carlisle said, “Noelle. Please wait.”

She stopped and turned as he came up to join her.