Page 28 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“That’s definite.”

A corner of her mouth quirked up. “Yes, the whole thing seems very unlikely to me. Richard couldn’t explain it because he didn’t understand it—that’s why he gave me the task. He had me meet his client in person, and that’s when I discovered it was Asquith. ’Course, Richard didn’t have a clue who Asquith is or what he does, which is another reason he had so much trouble with the instructions. Spider was his usual secretive self, letting out only what he thought absolutely necessary.”

“I’d liked to have seen Asquith’s face when he saw it was you.”

She huffed out a little laugh. “He was none too pleased, I can tell you. At first I thought he wasn’t going to give me the job. But I think he realized that I could do it much better than Forester or anyone else. Asquith could be more open and straightforward with me, too—as straightforward as he’s capable of being, anyway. I would have liked to back out when I found out it was him. But I couldn’t because the whole thing involved Annabeth. I thought you would rather I was there than some stranger.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m sorry for being harsh before. I understand, and I’m truly glad it was you with Annabeth today. I had no idea where she was or how to find out once I realized it wasn’t Parker behind it.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way.

CHAPTER TEN

SLOANE AND VERITY strode down the hall toward Asquith’s office, ignoring the odd looks that were cast at Verity’s appearance as well as the few futile attempts to stop them. Sloane had made his peace with Verity, but he was still bubbling with fury at Asquith.

The door to Asquith’s office was open, and they could see the man sitting at his desk, busily writing. He was a very ordinary-looking man in his fifties. There was nothing imposing about him. He was of average height with light brown hair and gray eyes, and neither attractive nor ugly. It wasn’t until he fixed his gaze on one that one could see the power in him.

Sloane strode in, closing the door behind them with a thud, and Asquith looked up, startled. His eyes narrowed. “Rutherford. What in blazes do you think you’re doing? I meet you where I tell you. You don’t come here.”

“I just did.”

Asquith’s gaze went to Verity, and his eyes widened fractionally at the sight of her disarray. “What happened to you?”

“I was abducted and thrown in a locked room with Miss Winfield.”

Asquith’s eyebrows rose. “What? Why?”

Verity answered with a shrug. “You tell me.”

“Hmm,” Asquith said thoughtfully, and settled back in his chair. “So...there is someone else after it.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Sloane asked.

“What else should I say?” The other man looked at him. “Miss Cole is obviously unhurt, and I presume Miss Winfield is as well. The only thing to wonder is why and who? The only reason I can think of is because they want what Miss Cole is after. They think she has it or that Miss Winfield has it and they can pry the information out of one or the other.”

“Annabeth knows nothing about any secret paper,” Sloane snapped. “You are the one who involved her by setting Verity on her. You put her in danger.”

“I had no intention of putting Miss Winfield in danger, I assure you. If anything, Miss Cole’s presence should have made her safer. I presume it was she who got the two of them out of the kidnappers’ clutches.”

“Damn it, I want you out of Annabeth’s life. I only agreed to work for you because you swore the Winfields would be safe.”

“My dear boy, I’ve always kept to that.”

“Then what was Verity doing there?”

“I would have assumed she told you,” Asquith said mildly.

“She did, and it makes no sense. A supposed confession from Hunter? After all these years? I can’t see him writing a confession, and if he did, why didn’t he send it to someone? He’s long dead, and the war was even longer ago than that. And why would you want a confession, anyway? You already know what he did.”

“I didn’t believe he would have written a confession, either,” Asquith said. “Hunter never seemed to me to be someone who would be overcome with remorse. I also dismissed the rumors that he had committed suicide.”

“Suicide!” Sloane let out a sharp laugh. “Him? Not likely.”

“Exactly what I thought. That’s why we didn’t spend a great deal of time searching his house for a confession after he died.”

“You had people inside Annabeth’s house, searching?” Sloane said in a deadly tone.

“Oh, do sit down, Rutherford, and stop looking like a bomb about to go off.” Asquith gestured toward one of the chairs opposite his desk. “You, too, Miss Cole. It’s a long story.”