Page 29 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

“So you’re going to tell Sloane more than you chose to tell me?” Verity asked. “Lovely to know you sent me there with inadequate foreknowledge.”

“I didn’t hide anything of importance to your task,” Asquith replied. “But now, after this kidnapping incident, I am beginning to wonder if perhaps there’s something to his story.”

“Whose story?” Sloane asked, grudgingly sitting down as Asquith had suggested.

“As I said, we found nothing at the time and I rather forgot about it. But a few weeks ago, we succeeded in capturing a French agent.”

“After all this time?”

“Yes. Well, he was an Englishman, you see, so he’d continued to live here. I’m sure he’d thought he was safe by now. But I had never stopped looking. I had always believed that the head of the spy ring here was in actuality an Englishman. Someone knew enough about Winfield to put pressure on him and make him turn. He would never have thought to steal information on his own. Someone coerced him.”

“I’m familiar with that method,” Sloane said bitingly.

“I am well aware that you resent me,” Asquith said crisply. “But I do what’s best for England, not for any individual’s feelings. Sometimes I am required to do difficult things.”

Sloane nodded, though he suspected that the things Asquith did weren’t all that difficult for him.

“So the head of the French spy network in this country, the one who coerced Winfield into giving him the information, is the agent you caught recently?”

“Unfortunately, no. But this chap was certain that Winfield had left a confession, which I sincerely hope would reveal the name of the head of the French network. That confession is what Verity is looking for.”

“But after all this time—if her father had left a confession, Annabeth would know about it, and I am certain she does not.”

“Miss Cole has told me the same. Miss Winfield knows nothing about the confession. But that doesn’t mean it’s not in her possession. Or he might have given it to his wife.”

“Annabeth’s mother?” Sloane snorted. “Clearly you don’t know Martha. No one, even Hunter, would entrust an important document to her. And there’s no reason to search Annabeth’s home. Hunter never lived at Lady Lockwood’s house.”

“It’s not her house,” Verity spoke up. “It’s the rental house. The one her father left her.”

“You mean the one that her grandfather was sensible enough to leave in trust for her instead of giving it to Hunter.”

“Is that the way of it?” Verity asked. “I didn’t know. Annabeth just told me she got the rent for it, but since she’s marrying, they’re going to move into it.”

Sloane’s jaw clenched but he said nothing.

“She’s clearing all the old things out of the attic,” Asquith said. “Her father’s things, as I understand it. Before that, I hadn’t realized anything of Hunter’s was still packed away somewhere.”

“How the devil did you know she was clearing out the attic of her house?” Sloane asked.

Asquith sent him a look. “My dear chap...”

Sloane shook his head. “That’s right. I forgot—you know everything.”

“I like to keep informed.” Asquith went on, “It was the perfect opportunity—all I had to do was pay a maid to leave Lady Lockwood’s and send in ‘Judy’ with sterling references.”

“Why did you go to this other detective, Forester, who has no idea what’s behind this? Why didn’t you go to Verity immediately? Or me.”

Asquith quirked an eyebrow. “I believe you and Miss Cole were rather definitive in your declarations that you would never work for me again. And, frankly, I was a bit skeptical still that the search would turn up anything. It didn’t seem worth trying to convince Miss Cole to return.

“But of course, I was delighted when I found out she was working on it instead of Forester. This occurrence today indicates that someone else is looking for the same information.” As much excitement as Asquith ever revealed crept into his voice. “Who else would want it except the man at the center of the spy ring? The one whom Hunter’s confession could reveal is a traitor? Even if there is no confession, we can catch the spymaster by finding the man who tried to kidnap Miss Winfield today.”

“Asquith...” Sloane leaned forward, planting his hands on the other man’s desk and fixing his gaze on Asquith’s face. “I don’t care about the confession. I don’t care about the other man. All I care about is Annabeth’s safety.”

“The only way to make sure she’s safe is to find out who attacked her,” Asquith pointed out. “That’s why I’m sure you will be happy to hunt him down.”

“I beg your pardon,” Verity snapped. “I can hunt him down. I’m already in this.”

Asquith turned his pale gaze on her. “No. You need to guard Miss Winfield now. Rutherford obviously can’t do that. Rutherford is clearly the right person to look, and you will report to him.”