Page 9 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

Sloane scowled. “Are you saying that I’m like the earl?”

“Oh, goodness, no, you aren’t so straitlaced. Anyway, that’s not important.” Marcus waved his hand as though to sweep away the topic. “The thing you need to think about is this—we both know there is someone in London who is far more important to you than I or anyone else.”

Sloane’s chest tightened as he took in the meaning of his father’s words. “You mean Annabeth? She’s not—that was—” When his father said nothing, just arched one eyebrow, he went on, “How could he know about Annabeth and me?”

Marcus shrugged. “People have long memories when it comes to gossip. And you must realize that what happened between you and Annabeth was spread about all over town.”

Sloane simply stared at him for a long moment. He wanted to argue, to deny, but he could not. Was Annabeth in danger?

That settled it.

He was going to the wedding tonight.

CHAPTER THREE

ANNABETH GLANCED OVER at Nathan, standing on the other side of the groom. He smiled at her, and she felt that familiar little clench in her chest. She would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes she wondered if she had made the right decision. Not that it really made any difference—she would never break her promise.

Her gaze went back to Noelle and Carlisle at the altar, their faces shining with love. She knew how they felt; she’d once felt like that. She had come to realize that she probably never would again. But she wasn’t going to think about that. She’d become quite good over the years at keeping her past locked up and out of mind. It was just this occasion that had brought back the memories.

That and seeing Sloane a few weeks ago at Stonecliffe. Dear God, what a miserable experience that had been. The shock of walking in and seeing him standing there...the stony expression on his face when he saw her...the way he’d turned around and left without even a word to her.

Annabeth had known he didn’t love her. Certainly she no longer loved him; she’d stopped pining for him long ago. But somehow that abrupt, obvious dismissal had hurt. That was why she had thought of him far too often lately.

There was a rustle in the audience, a wave of movement and faint murmurs, that made Annabeth turn to look. And there in the doorway, as if her thoughts had conjured him up, stood Sloane Rutherford.

Annabeth quickly turned her head away. What was he doing here? He had made clear how he felt about his family. No wonder there had been that stir among the guests.

Annabeth was pleased that she managed to keep her face emotionless, and she looked only at the bridal couple for the rest of the ceremony. She didn’t even glance across at Nathan, who she was sure was fuming.

By the time the vows ended and Noelle and Carlisle turned to walk back up the aisle, Sloane was no longer there. Annabeth let out a little sigh of relief. At least he had kept his presence to a minimum.

Annabeth took Nathan’s arm and followed the others up the aisle, but they had barely made it to the back of the church before the remainder of the guests were up and surging toward the doors. Everyone was eager to get a look at the notorious Sloane Rutherford.

“What the devil is he doing here?” Nathan muttered.

“Noelle did invite him,” Annabeth said mildly.

“Yes, but no one believed he would accept.”

Annabeth glanced around. Standing at the top of the church steps, she had a clear view now that the guests were spreading out. “Well, it looks as though he’s gone now.”

“Good riddance.”

“There you are,” a woman’s voice trumpeted behind them, and they turned.

“Hello, Grandmother.” One would think Annabeth and Nathan had been crouched behind a hedge, hiding from her. Nathan probably would have liked to. Annabeth smiled at the pleasant-looking man beside Lady Lockwood. “Uncle Russell.”

Russell Feringham was not actually Annabeth’s uncle, but he had been her father’s best friend and a neighbor, and she had grown up regarding him as a member of the family. Polite and easygoing, he was one of the older unattached gentlemen whom her grandmother frequently bullied into escorting her to parties or the theater.

“Annabeth, my dear, you look radiant. It isn’t nice, you know, to outshine the bride.” Russell took her hand and made an elegant bow over it.

“What a bouncer,” Annabeth laughed. “Everyone knows Noelle is the most beautiful woman in London.”

“Now, now,” he went on jovially. “Pardon me if I quibble with that. I daresay young Dunbridge here agrees with me.”

“Indeed, sir,” Nathan agreed. He turned to Annabeth’s grandmother. “You’re looking well this evening.”

“Nonsense.” The old woman thumped her cane on the stone step. “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages. That cat keeps yowling out there every night and disturbing Petunia. One would think people would keep better control of their pets and not let them wander about waking up all of Mayfair.”