Page 41 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“Of course, dear, we perfectly understand,” Adeline told him.

Carlisle smiled ruefully at the countess. “I am sorry to trap you here with Lady Lockwood.”

“Perhaps she’ll decide it’s too unsafe here and leave,” Adeline said hopefully. “Don’t worry about us. You do what you need to.”

“Thank you.” He turned to Noelle. “I will do everything I can to find out what’s going on and put a stop to it.”

“I know you will,” Noelle answered. “I am going with you.”

“What?” His eyebrows shot up. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long trip. It won’t be only to London and back. If I have to go to Sloane’s estate—it’s far away, a great moldering ruin in Dorset that can only be reached by terrible roads.”

“Too long a trip? Really?” Noelle crossed her arms. “You’re going to claim that I am too delicate to travel all the way to Dorset?”

Carlisle shifted in his seat. “I assure you there is no need.”

“I need to.”

“But to travel all that way alone with a man...” he protested.

“You’re saying that my virtue is unsafe with you?”

“Noelle!” Red rose in his cheeks. “Certainly not. But it would look...um...”

“Like it did when you brought me back to London? If that is all it takes to ruin my reputation, it is a lost cause already. Does everyone look askance when you and Lady Drewsbury travel together?”

“No, but that’s—it’s—I will have to confront Sloane. It could be dangerous.”

“No more risky than when Gil and I ran from the man in Barcelona or—”

“I have no intention of exposing you to the kind of risks you took in the past,” he shot back, jumping to his feet. “You are safe here. I have promised you my protection, and—”

“Then I shouldn’t be unsafe, as I shall be with you.” Noelle rose to face him.

“Gilbert needs you here with him.”

“Gilbert will have not only Nathan, but the countess, Annabeth, Lady Lockwood, and his governess to keep an eye on him,” Noelle retorted.

“But—”

“I am his mother. I have been protecting him all his life, and I intend to continue to do so. I agreed to live here, not to turn over all my obligations and rights as a mother to you. I want to see this man myself. Talk to him. I need to meet him, and you have no right to tell me I cannot. Nor do you have any reason for thinking that I would hinder or slow you down in any way.”

Carlisle sighed. “Very well.” He sank back down into his seat. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. At dawn.”

She nodded resolutely. “I will be ready to go.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CARLISLE SAID NOTHING FURTHER, but the problem of Noelle accompanying him to London nagged at him the rest of the day. He was still searching for a reason for her to remain by the time he went upstairs to his room. He stripped off his suit jacket and jerked impatiently at his cravat, tossing them both onto the chair beside his bed, adding his waistcoat a moment later. He knew he should go to bed; he would be arising early the next morning.

But his mind was too chaotic for sleep. There was a treacherous part of him that was glad he’d lost the argument with Noelle. He looked forward to traveling with her as much as he dreaded it...maybe more. That was the problem: if he had difficulty restraining his feelings here, in a house full of people, how did he expect to do it when it was just the two of them alone?

It was dangerous. Enticing. And it was foolish in the extreme. Everything he did regarding Noelle was foolish, it seemed. He’d finally found her, ended the chase, achieved exactly what he wanted. He should be satisfied. Content. But the bloody woman still had him in a turmoil. She confused him. Worse, she made him confusing to himself. Why the devil had he almost kissed her the other day? It was as if she turned off every rational thought in his head with her mere presence.

The reasons for his distraction were obvious—her petal-soft skin, that plump lower lip that made him ache to kiss it, those deep blue eyes, the neckline that revealed the soft upper curve of her breasts. And her hair—Lord help him, that hair, all golden curls, too short to be subdued into a hairstyle. She decorated it sometimes with a narrow ribbon wound through the curls, and that was even more inviting, for all he could think of was tugging open the bow and sliding the strip of silk from her hair.