Page 3 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

She knew Thorne would try to find her. Where would he expect her to go? Home, she imagined, back to England, to her father. He would look for a coach going north. So she would go in any other direction. Perhaps she would travel south to Nice or Marseilles; there, she could catch a boat to any number of places. Italy, perhaps. Her friend Yvette and Yvette’s husband, Henri, a sculptor, had moved to Florence a few months ago so that he could hone his craft in the city of Michelangelo. They would take Noelle in, give her a little time to decide exactly what to do.

The important thing was to travel quickly. Thorne could catch up easily if she was on a lumbering public coach. Even worse, she doubted there was one leaving this late; it was already dusk. The fastest way would be to hire a post chaise. She could leave almost immediately. And she felt sure one of Adam’s friends would do her the favor of making the transaction so that the innkeeper would not see a very identifiable young woman with a small baby.

Even if he managed to find the inn where she rented the vehicle, she would be hours ahead of him, probably more. The only problem with her plan was the expense of hiring a post chaise. She would have to sell some of her jewelry. Opening the small sack, she studied the pieces. Which should she sell? She had long thought Adam bought her too much jewelry. Now, it seemed far too little.

Worse, it was evening, and all the shops where she could sell it would be closed. Her eyes slid over to the pouch of gold coins. But, no, she couldn’t take the money he had tossed at her in exchange for Gil. It would be stealing. Besides, the thought of even touching that money was abhorrent. She refused to do anything that indebted her to Carlisle Thorne.

But she must think of Gil. She had to take care of him, had to get away from Thorne as far and fast as she could. Perhaps she should put her pride aside. For a moment, she hung there in indecision. Then she grabbed the pouch and dropped it into the pocket of her skirt. She would pay the man back, every cent. She swore it.

Wrapping Gil up in his blanket, she tucked him into the crook of her elbow and picked up her bag. With a single glance back at the home she and Adam had shared for two years, she slipped down the staircase and out into the dark night.

CHAPTER ONE

Five Years Later

“I’VE FOUND HER, SIR.”

At his employee’s words, Carlisle Thorne straightened in his chair. When the butler had announced that Diggs was here, Carlisle had expected nothing but a routine report of lack of success. Carlisle’s pulse picked up, but he pushed down the hope rising in him. After all, Diggs had found the woman before, only for her to slip away. “Where?”

Diggs’s usually dour face creased in a rare smile. “Here in London, sir.”

Carlisle stood up. “Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be. Her hair’s brown now, and she looks thinner, but I saw her myself. It’s hard to mistake those eyes, sir.”

“Yes.” Those eyes—large and a distinctive vibrant blue, outrageously lovely. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about her...before his gaze dropped to her blatant display of jewelry and complete lack of mourning.

“And she has a boy with her, sir, just about the right age.”

“Thank God,” Carlisle murmured. That had always been his secret fear, that somewhere in her travels, Noelle would decide Adam’s son was too much trouble and simply leave him behind. “Well...it appears she has finally made a mistake.”

“Yes, sir. I guess she got too confident. Figured you’d stopped looking for her.”

In the chair across from Carlisle, Nathan Dunbridge snorted. “Clearly doesn’t know you, then, Carlisle.”

“True, sir.” Diggs nodded toward Carlisle’s friend and offered, amazingly, a full-fledged grin. Nathan had that effect on people. More soberly, Diggs turned back to Carlisle. “She’s working in a millinery shop. Madame Bissonet’s. Popular place, from the looks of it. I checked the owner’s background; it’s the same person she worked for in Paris. Before...”

Before this whole mad pursuit began. Before Adam died. Carlisle shoved that thought aside, as well. “Have you discovered where she lives?”

“Yes, sir.” Diggs nodded, coloring a little. That was where they had slipped up two years ago and lost her. “I followed her to her home myself. Both places will be easy enough to catch her. No back doors at either one. I can follow her home again tonight, take a man with me, bring her to you.”

“No. I don’t want the boy frightened. It’s better if I go to her. Let’s do it tomorrow morning at the shop. She’ll be more amenable to reason there, not as likely to create a scene. Continue to follow her, but for God’s sake, don’t let her see your man. She’s crafty; she might notice. I don’t want anything that could make her bolt.”

They made arrangements for the time and place, and Diggs left. Carlisle looked over at his friend, who had been following their conversation with great interest.

“Looks as though you’ve finally got her in your net,” Nathan said cheerfully. “How long has it been now? Four years? Your worrying has certainly added four years of gray to your hair.”

“Five. I wasn’t quite thirty when all this started. And I would refer to my hair as having a stately silver at the temples. Salt and pepper, if you want to be thoroughly pedestrian.”

“Being thoroughly pedestrian is ever my goal in life.”

“I’m not counting any victory until Adam’s son is back at Stonecliffe.” Carlisle’s expression turned grim. “That blasted woman’s eluded me at every turn. I underestimated her before—I won’t make that mistake again.” He sighed and sank back down into his chair. “One of the countless mistakes I’ve made. I bungled it from the start.”

“Understandable. Adam had just died; you were grief-stricken.”

“Yes.” Thorne leaned his head back against the tall chair and closed his eyes, recalling the moment. “I was grieving for Adam, bitterly regretting...oh, everything, right from the start. Why did I pick that time to say, ‘He’s a man now, he’ll have to learn for himself’? I should have gone to Oxford as soon as he wrote that he was going to marry her. I could have made him see reason. Instead, I merely dashed off a letter.”

“You couldn’t have known Adam was actually serious that time. He was always off on one thing or another, and in weeks...even days, he would drop it entirely and be off on something else. How were you to know he would take it into his head to elope with her to Paris? Hard as it is for you to believe, you aren’t omniscient...or omnipotent.”