Page 59 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“He seemed quite sincere,” Noelle agreed.

“Marcus isn’t good at lying,” Adeline said. “It’s one of the reasons he was always such a terrible gambler.”

“I’ll believe Marcus had nothing to do with it, but that doesn’t absolve his son,” Nathan pointed out. “I’m sure he is adept at lying.”

“Probably, though his denial seemed real enough,” Carlisle said. “He has an alibi. He was at his fishing lodge in Scotland.”

“Fishing in Scotland!” Nathan scoffed. “That sounds unlikely. Is there any proof? Besides, it doesn’t matter if he was in Scotland or Constantinople. Sloane doubtlessly sent someone else to actually shoot Gilbert—you know he has a raft of disreputable characters to choose from.”

“I know,” Carlisle agreed. “Diggs has sent a man to Scotland to find out if he was really there. And he’s looking into who Sloane might have hired. But what I can’t get past is a motive for him. Sloane doesn’t need the money. His home is filled with valuable art and furniture. He owns several houses, including the lodge in Scotland. I saw his carriage in the stable yard as we left.” Carlisle’s eyes took on a gleam. “You should have seen the horses, Nate. Four prime bays, completely matching.”

“He was always showy.”

“Yes, but it takes some gold to make that kind of show. Diggs confirmed that he’s well set up—shipping company, real estate, a distillery in Scotland. He doesn’t need Gil’s money.”

“The title,” Nathan pointed out.

“Would he murder a child to become an earl? He never seemed to give a whit about the title.”

Nathan sighed, clearly reluctant to let go of his theory. “I don’t know. But who else could it be?”

Noelle spoke up. “Mr. Rutherford suggested an alternative theory.”

“Sloane told Noelle that she should watch out,” Carlisle explained. “He said the motive was more likely the tontine.” He was greeted with blank stares from both his listeners.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Nathan asked. “What’s a tontine?”

Carlisle turned to the countess. “Do you know anything about a tontine the earl and his friends might have set up?”

“My dear, I have no more idea what a tontine is than Nathan.”

Carlisle explained, though neither Nathan nor the countess looked terribly enlightened. “Lady Adeline, did Drewsbury ever talk about such a thing with you?”

“Goodness, no, dear. Thomas didn’t talk business with me.”

“It had to have happened before my father died. Sloane intimated that my father and Nathan’s father were in on it, along with others. He said they excluded Marcus because of his lack of funds—Sloane was bitter about that fact, which makes me more inclined to believe that he’s telling the truth.”

“Pretty handy thing to come up with, I must say, since it takes the blame off him and puts it on you and me,” Nathan pointed out. “I wouldn’t believe anything out of Sloane’s mouth.”

“Carlisle, wouldn’t Drewsbury have told you about it?” Adeline asked. “He must have kept some sort of record if he put money into this thing.”

“One would think. But he didn’t. Nor did my mother know anything about it.”

“You went to see Belinda?” Adeline asked in surprise. “Well, Horace would have told her, I suppose. She was always much cleverer than I about such things.”

“I’m not sure. She said Father would have known she wouldn’t like it. He might have hidden it from her. What about your father, Nate?” Carlisle asked. “Did he ever say anything? Maybe he didn’t use the word tontine. Could it have been among his papers?”

“No.” Nathan shook his head. “I’m not the dab hand at finances that you are, but I would have noticed anything that odd. Thompkins, Father’s lawyer, is dead now, but his son Cato still has the office, and he handles all the family affairs. I’m sure he would have Thompkins’s old files. I planned to talk to him while I was home anyway; I just haven’t had the time yet. I’ll send him a note. He’s in Seven Oaks, not far.”

“This is all very perplexing.” Adeline frowned. “What are you going to do, dear?”

“Look through the earl’s old papers again, I suppose. Ask the estate manager—though I don’t imagine he would have been privy to that sort of information. We already talked to the earl’s lawyer and his agent.”

“There’s nothing to it. Sloane’s trying to waste your time.” Nathan looked up at the sound of steps and saw Annabeth in the doorway. He colored. “I beg your pardon, Anna.”

“It’s perfectly all right.” Annabeth smiled at him fondly and shook her head. “You can speak his name; I won’t go into a swoon. That was ages ago.”

“What was ages ago?” Lady Lockwood demanded, thumping into the room after her granddaughter and heading for a chair. “I say, Addy, must you have these little stools scattered about everywhere?” She poked the small footrest in front of the chair with her cane, knocking it off-kilter. “They’re a hazard. Always at one’s feet.”