Page 69 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“Nathan’s father and mine are both deceased, as is the earl.” Carlisle started at the top. “That leaves Nathan and me. Well, Gilbert, too, of course, but I think we can ignore him.”

“I believe so.” Noelle uncorked the inkwell and settled down to write.

“Lady Drewsbury’s brother, Sterling Lockwood, who passed away two years ago,” Carlisle began. “Annabeth’s father, Hunter Winfield, died a few years ago.” He glanced over at the countess, who was dabbing at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to distress you. Perhaps we should talk about this somewhere else.”

“No, it’s all right. They’ve been gone for some time; it’s just sad, thinking about them all together like that. But this is important.” She straightened her shoulders. “None of my brother’s or sister’s heirs would inherit. They’re all girls.”

“Since females are barred from the contest, that eliminates several already,” Noelle pointed out.

“Yes, we must be grateful for their lack of fairness.” Carlisle sent her a sardonic look and went on, “Vinson Brookwell. Is he still alive?”

“I’ve no idea,” Adeline said. “He had several children, as I remember. I’m sure some of them were sons.”

“Yes, Milton was my age. But he died at Waterloo.” Carlisle looked at Nathan. “What was the other one’s name?”

“John,” Nathan supplied. “I’ve seen him at the club every now and then.” He shrugged. “You know, the sort of person whom you nod and smile when you see each other, but never really converse. I don’t know anything about him.”

“Lord Haverstock is still alive, though I understand he has retired to their estate,” Lady Adeline supplied. “His eldest boy, Sprague, died last year in a boating accident. His other son, Timothy, has always been a sickly lad. His other child was a girl—I believe Annabeth was somewhat friends with her when they were younger.”

“So Haverstock has only one son remaining, and he is unlikely to outlive anyone.” Carlisle frowned. “Our number of possible villains is shrinking by the moment. What about—” He stopped, raising his head, as a voice trumpeted down the hallway.

“Adeline!”

The countess sagged. “Oh, dear. Mother is up from her nap.” Her words were confirmed by the sound of Lady Lockwood’s distinctive shuffle, punctuated by the thump of her cane, though it moved at a faster pace than usual.

“Actually, she would be a great help,” Nathan pointed out. “She knows everything about everyone.”

Adeline brightened. “That’s true. Mother doesn’t get out much, but all the gossip comes to her.”

“What is going on here?” Lady Lockwood steamed into the room. “Annabeth won’t answer my knock. And her door is locked. I need her to carry my things. She knows I always come downstairs at this time.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Mother,” Adeline said soothingly. “I’ll send one of the maids up to get your things.”

“Humph. She already is.” She motioned toward the door, where a harassed-looking maid stood, her hands full of Lady Lockwood’s knitting bag and other necessities. “No doubt she’s left something behind. Annabeth knows just what I need.” As Adeline steered her mother toward her usual chair, Noelle took the old lady’s possessions from the maid and settled them beside Lady Lockwood. “What’s the matter with Annabeth? That’s what I want to know.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Adeline repeated. Not having witnessed the earlier scene in the hallway, she sent a worried look toward Noelle and murmured, “She didn’t see—”

Noelle nodded, but said only, “It’s nothing to worry about, Lady Lockwood. Annabeth’s just taking a bit of a rest.”

“A rest. Annabeth? Is she ill?” Lady Lockwood swung on her daughter. “What do you mean, ‘she didn’t see’? See what? What’s going on?”

“Sloane Rutherford was here, ma’am,” Carlisle told her.

“Here?” Lady Lockwood slammed her cane down on the floor. “That man! Did he come to bother Annabeth? I trust you sent him away with a bee in his bonnet, Thorne.”

“Actually, he brought us a list of the men who were in the tontine with the earl. And we could certainly use your help in studying it. Lady Drewsbury and I are unsure about them and their children.”

His words satisfactorily distracted Lady Lockwood. Her gaze sharpened and she rapped her cane on the floor. “Well? Get on with it, boy, who are they?”

“Mr. Penrose.”

“Freddie Penrose,” Lady Lockwood said in a disgusted tone. “I can tell you right now, he had nothing but girls, so I’m certain there’s no danger from one of his children. As for Freddie himself...pfft.” She flicked her fingers. “That man is lucky to find his way home; he couldn’t possibly plan a murder.”

“Richard Snowden and Sir Basil Cunningham,” Carlisle said, listing the members they had not yet examined.

“Basil Cunningham never married. Snowden...hmm,” Lady Lockwood mused. “Oh, I remember. He married one of those French émigrés. Bit of a dustup. His father was not pleased. Now, what’s their son’s name?”

“But why was the family upset?” Nathan asked. “I thought Lady Snowden was an aristocrat; that’s why they fled Paris.”