Page 66 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“My lady.” Sloane leaned forward, saying in a gentle tone, “Do you remember anyone in particular who called on Mr. Winfield toward the end? Was there anyone there with you when his accident occurred?”

“No. I was all alone. It was most distressing. Annabeth was visiting Adeline. But Russell came as soon as I sent him a note, and he was a great comfort to me. Then Mother arrived, so she took care of everything.”

“Naturally,” Edgerton commented dryly.

A maid entered the room, carrying three boxes, and set them in front of Annabeth.

“There you go, dear, just take those with you.”

“Thank you. But do you remember that writing desk of Papa’s, the one that folded up?”

“The traveling desk? Hunter was very fond of it.”

“Do you still have it?” Annabeth’s throat tightened. What if it had been discarded? “Could I see it?”

“I’m sorry, darling, but I don’t have it any longer. I gave it to Simpson, poor man. He was so fond of your father.”

“Papa’s valet?”

“Yes. Simpson always carried it when they traveled so it wouldn’t get nicked or scratched. I had no use for it, and Simpson was so distressed by Hunter’s death.”

“Yes, I remember. Do you know who he’s working for now?”

“I don’t think he’s a valet anymore. Hunter left him a little inheritance, and I believe he moved to the country. I’m not sure where. His sister’s, perhaps?”

Edgerton, who had obviously had enough of talk about Hunter and his death, changed the subject with no subtlety. “Martha, dear, did you remember Lady Ambrose’s dinner this evening?”

“Yes.” Martha grimaced. “I do hate these dinners with people in the Home Office. It’s always about political things, which quite puts me to sleep. And I have so much trouble choosing the proper dress to wear. It’s difficult to find something that blends in with the others but isn’t dull.”

Edgerton smiled fondly. “Yes. But one has to keep up one’s alliances, you know. And you always succeed in wearing exactly the proper gown.”

“Thank you, darling.” Martha beamed at her husband. “But I believe I shall take a little nap before we go, just to fend off doing it tonight during the soup course.”

“We should be going as well,” Sloane said, and Annabeth rose, too, eager to get away where they could discuss what they’d just learned.

Outside, Sloane started toward his carriage, but Annabeth tugged at his arm and he stopped, immediately scanning the area around them. “What’s wrong? Did you see someone?”

“No. Nothing like that. But I think I can discover where Simpson is.” Annabeth turned toward the steps going down to the half basement where the servants lived. “Mother’s maid, Frances, is still with her, and I suspect she will know.”

Annabeth was proved right, and a few minutes later, they left the house with the name of Simpson’s village in hand.

“The Lake District,” Sloane grumbled as their carriage rattled off down the street. “That’s a three-day trip. You’d have thought he would have stayed close to home.”

“Simpson can’t help that his only living family is a sister who married and moved there. Of course, Frances didn’t seem to approve of it either. I always thought she had a bit of a tendre for Simpson.”

“I don’t like the idea of you traveling in an open curricle for three days each way. I can protect you from a close attack, but I can’t stop a bullet. And apparently, whoever is pursuing is clever enough that I didn’t catch him following us,” Sloane said in disgust.

“If you’re about to suggest again that I go hide at Stonecliffe, you needn’t even start. Simpson is not going to allow some stranger to look through my father’s things.”

“I’m not a stranger. He’s bound to know of me.”

“Anything he heard about you would not have been good,” Annabeth pointed out. “You need my help.”

“Are you sure the paper will be there?”

“Of course not. I didn’t even know it existed until you started looking for it. But it seems the likeliest possibility. I don’t think these boxes are going to be of any help.” She had already opened one of them and found nothing and was now investigating another. As Annabeth worked, she said in a thoughtful voice, “Sloane...did it seem odd to you—what my mother said about Lord Edgerton visiting Papa? My grandmother said they were bitter enemies. I’ve certainly never heard him say a kind word about my father.”

“It sounded as if it was just business. An inheritance.”