Page 98 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

Annabeth did as Asquith said, searching for something to distract him. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish. You use the threat of killing me, but you can’t actually do that because you need me to take you to Papa’s writing desk. Of course, you’ll have no use for me afterward and will doubtless kill me, but you have kidnapped me in front of all these witnesses. Everyone will know what you are and what you did, so you will have to leave the country.”

“I have a villa in Greece. I have nothing to worry about.”

“Except for wondering when Sloane will track you down and what terrible thing he will do to you.”

Asquith snorted. “Sloane won’t come after me. He just took off and left you here to die.”

“Not exactly,” Sloane said coolly from behind Asquith. The pistol in his hand was pressed into Asquith’s skull. “A wild aristocrat always knows his way around the servants’ entrance.”

“I’ll slice her artery before you can fire,” Asquith said. Annabeth felt his hand tremble on the knife and hoped he wouldn’t accidentally cut her.

“You think you can?” Sloane asked. “Do you really want to test that? I’m younger than you and faster than you, and I haven’t spent the last twelve years sitting in an office. This ball will do very nasty things to your brain.”

Asquith broke and ran, shoving Annabeth aside. Sloane reached out a hand to steady her as Asquith scrambled for the door, his expensive shoes slipping across the marble entryway.

“I’m fine,” Annabeth reassured Sloane, waving him on. “Go. Catch him.”

He gave a terse nod and ran after Asquith, launching himself at the man as he reached for the doorknob. Sloane’s left shoulder hit Asquith square in the chest, and Asquith let out a huff of air as they crashed into the door, knocking over the umbrella stand.

Sloane recovered first and drew back his fist, hitting the other man in the face. Asquith’s eyes looked hazy for a second, but he quickly shook off the haze and stomped his foot down hard on the top of Sloane’s instep. Sloane sent a powerful uppercut to the bottom of his opponent’s chin. This time Asquith’s eyes fluttered closed, and he slid to the ground, unconscious.

Cartwell and a footman rushed in, twine in hand, and proceeded to tie up Asquith. Another footman scooped up the pistol. Sloane swung around and strode across the entry to Annabeth. He pulled her into a fierce embrace, holding her as if he would never let her go.

“I knew you would come,” Annabeth said, her arms wrapped just as tightly around him.

“Always, my love.” Sloane kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

“Well,” Lady Lockwood said from above them, holding a barking Petunia and looking down disapprovingly at the mess. “I hope this means this business is over now. All this breaking in and brawling about is getting rather tiresome. That was my favorite Meissen vase. People nowadays simply have no sense of proper behavior.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

SLOANE LEFT THE house with the bound and groggy Asquith. Lady Lockwood decided that her nerves were shattered and retired to her bedroom. The servants swept up the mess in the hall. And Annabeth collapsed on a sofa in the drawing room, her legs suddenly too shaky to stand.

It was only a few minutes before Verity arrived at the house. Bypassing the maids sweeping the entry, she continued into the drawing room. “What happened here?”

“Mr. Asquith tried to kill me, and Sloane stopped him.”

It was rather satisfying to see Verity’s jaw drop in astonishment. Annabeth went on to explain what had happened, and by the end of the tale, Verity dropped down in a chair as well, stunned. “That twisted, deceitful, murderous blackguard. He was a thoroughly dislikable person, but I thought at least that he was loyal to the Crown. But...this does make some sense, given what I learned this morning.”

“What is that?”

“When Sloane and I went to speak with Asquith on our own, he said a French spy had told him about your father’s confession. It was what Asquith said set off the search for the document.”

“Yes.”

“Well, it turns out that spy was caught and interrogated by Asquith several years ago, not recently. No one else questioned the suspect because he died while in Asquith’s custody.”

“How convenient.”

Nathan walked in a few minutes later, and Annabeth went through her explanation again, this time punctuated by furious epithets from Verity, who had taken to pacing the room.

“That’s wonderful!” Nathan exclaimed. “It’s over now, and you’re safe.” He went to Annabeth, smiling, and sat down beside her. “I am so very happy for you.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Truly. I am.”

“I know. You are the kindest of men,” Annabeth replied.

“And your friend,” he told her, then added, with a little twinkle in his eye, “Though I hope you won’t mind if I flirt with you a little now and then, just to annoy Sloane.”

Annabeth laughed. “No. I won’t mind. If, of course, Sloane is still around.”