Page 42 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“It’s not literary,” Annabeth said. “It’s a secret—”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“ANNABETH IS LOOKING for some messages Mr. Winfield left for her,” Sloane interrupted. “Words of comfort. Of wisdom. That sort of thing. Like the ones he left in Lady Lockwood’s jewelry box.”

“Of course. Like that lovely poem he put in one of the boxes he gave me.” Martha smiled reminiscently.

“Yes. Just like that.” Annabeth went along with what Sloane put forth. His reasons were plausible and certainly easier to explain than the truth, but she still felt uncomfortable lying.

“Annabeth found a note in a puzzle box when she was cleaning out the attic at her house the other day,” Sloane continued. “Mr. Winfield indicated that there would be others to find.”

Annabeth sent Sloane a warning look. She didn’t need him making up stories she was expected to keep up with her family—though clearly he was an expert at inventing lies. “You remember, Mama, how Papa used to do that—it was a little game he and I played.”

“Oh yes, dear. You and he were so clever. I never could make heads nor tails of those things.”

“Do you still have any of the boxes? May I look at them?”

“Naturally.” Martha beamed. “I have several. Though I have looked through them all and took out any messages.”

“Thank you.” Annabeth turned to Russell. “Do you have any?”

“Yes, indeed, child, I have several, and you are quite welcome to look through them. Unfortunately they aren’t here. They’re at my house in the country.”

“Oh. Well...”

“I can get them for you, if you’d like.” Russell brightened. “I have to go home for a few days—that tiresome estate manager wants to talk to me again. I’m sure it will be unutterably boring, but, well, of course, one must go. Hopefully it won’t be for long.”

“Thank you.” Annabeth gave him a grateful look. “I would very much appreciate it.”

Edgerton made a low noise of disgust. “Enough talk about those silly boxes. The important thing is that we ensure your safety, Annabeth. The answer isn’t to run away, as some are inclined to do.” He cast a meaning glance at Sloane. “It’s clear that you should come live with us.”

“Darling, come back home,” Martha urged.

“That’s not my home,” Annabeth said quietly.

“Of course it’s not,” Lady Lockwood agreed. “This is your home, and it is perfectly safe.”

“I think clearly it is not, since she has been attacked here twice,” Edgerton retorted. “You must come live with us, Annabeth.”

Annabeth bristled, but before she could reply her grandmother declared, “It’s not your place, Edgerton, to decree what my granddaughter can or cannot do. Annabeth is my charge.”

“I’m not anyone’s charge,” Annabeth snapped. “I am thirty years old, well past my majority.”

“Oh, no, dear,” her mother said in alarm, leaning over to pat Annabeth’s arm. “A lady must never mention her age.”

Sloane let out a hoot of laughter, and Annabeth had to cover her mouth to stifle her own. Well, at least her mother had managed to reduce the whole argument to the merest frippery.

Lord Edgerton still looked incensed, but before he could speak, Nathan decided to take down the temperature of the room by changing the conversation. “I understand you have a new vehicle, my lord. Everyone at the club was talking about it.”

Russell, who was also accustomed to calming conversational waters, chimed in, “I’ve heard that it’s quite dashing, Edgerton. Though I’d never buy a phaeton myself. They’re too easy to turn over. I was never much of a driver. It’s why I didn’t participate in curricle races with Hunter.”

“And London was the safer for it,” Edgerton snorted.

Russell merely chuckled as he rose to his feet. “Did you drive your phaeton here today? You could show me as we leave.”

“I’m sure Edgerton would love to do that,” Lady Lockwood said. She turned to her son-in-law. “No doubt you were going to take your leave, anyway, since you wouldn’t want to stay longer than the appropriate time for a call, especially one made so early.”

There was little Lord Edgerton could do after Lady Lockwood’s clear dismissal. “You are correct, of course, ma’am. Martha, we should go.”