A faint blush crept up Courtney’s neck. “Aurora…”
“Please don’t apologize. I think it’s quite extraordinary. I can scarcely wait to see where it leads.”
“Where it leads?” Courtney’s throat grew so tight she could scarcely speak. “Aurora, you’re making far too much of this. Your brother is a fine man. That, combined with his own tragic experience, has rendered him very compassionate, with regard to me and my loss. He’s trying to help me. And, yes, on some level, we understand each other.” Seeing the skeptical lift of Aurora’s brows, she added, “Very well, we’re drawn to each other. But that’s the full extent of it. There’s nothing more.”
“Yet,” Aurora qualified.
“What makes you think there will be?”
“The way your eyes light up when you speak Slayde’s name. The fact that he’s shared confidences with you he’s firmly vowed never, ever to discuss—with me or anyone.” Aurora gripped the bedpost, meeting Courtney’s gaze with her own candid one. “Courtney, I don’t profess to knowing my brother well. He spends more time abroad than he does at Pembourne. But I’m smart enough to understand the reason for that. He’s running away from something. ’Tis only a matter of time before he realizes that something is himself and therefore cannot be escaped. If you’re the one destined to help him perceive that, to give him a reason to stay, I’m elated.”
Swallowing, Courtney lowered her head, staring intently at the bedcovers. “Do you believe that’s possible?”
“Do you care for him?” Aurora countered.
“Yes.” It was a breath of a whisper. “I know it’s been less than a week. But when we’re together, I feel…Yes.”
“Then you have your answer.”
“Not quite,” Courtney reminded her with a rueful smile. “I think it’s necessary for Slayde to return my feelings in order for your assumptions to become fact. And, given how strong his desire for autonomy is, I’m afraid I have a formidable task ahead of me.”
“I agree. You’re fighting a lifetime of solitude, plus Lord knows what else. But from what I’ve seen, you’re an exceedingly good fighter.”
Courtney’s smile widened. “I am indeed. I’m also a dreadful loser.”
“Then don’t lose,” Aurora replied with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes.
“I’ll do my best.”
“And you’ll succeed. Because, in addition to your feelings and your determination, you’ll have a wealth of opportunity. Provided by the best cohort of all—me.”
Courtney leaned forward and squeezed Aurora’s hand. “Despite the tragedy that brought me to Pembourne, I’m very glad we met.”
“As am I.”
Aurora fell silent as Miss Payne sailed back into the room, a steaming tray in her hands. “I shooed Matilda off for some rest,” she announced, setting the tray on the nightstand. “Cook prepared two portions of everything, so you two young ladies can chat while you eat.” Straightening, she cast a warning glance at them both. “But once your meal is complete, Miss Johnston must rest. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Aurora replied. “Thank you, Miss Payne.”
“You’re quite welcome.” The housekeeper turned to Courtney. “Eat everything on your plate. You’re thin as a reed. Good food will speed your recovery.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brushing a few imaginary specks of dust from the furniture, Miss Payne took her leave.
“I’ll serve us.” Aurora rose, fetching the two plates of food and handing one to Courtney. “Every morsel now,” she teased, dropping back into the chair. Spearing a piece of mutton, she paused, giving Courtney a quizzical look. “Does Slayde truly believe someone learned of my trip to London by pure chance and seized that opportunity to extort the black diamond?”
Courtney stopped chewing. “No.”
“I thought not,” Aurora replied, resuming her meal. “He believes the Duke of Morland is responsible.”
“Yes, he does. In Slayde’s opinion, the duke was aware of your restlessness, having had Pembourne watched long enough to determine your behavior, and was therefore awaiting just such an opportunity as the one you gave him when you dashed off to London. At which point, he acted.” Courtney regarded her plate. “To me, the theory sounds a bit farfetched. On the other hand, I do agree that the duke is the most logical suspect. He loathes your family and has coveted the black diamond for years. Not to mention the fact that he was away from his estate at the time Armon was murdered.”
“And sober when he returned,” Aurora added, recalling the details Courtney had relayed earlier. “Maybe the idea isn’t quite as extreme as it sounds. Especially given the irrational intensity of the hatred the Bencrofts have sustained for us for generations. Oh, ’tis true I never gave as much credence to Lawrence Bencroft’s potential for retaliating as Slayde did—not so long as he was drunk and in seclusion. But now that all that’s changed, Slayde’s suspicions are more than justified.”
Courtney cleared her throat. “Aurora, do you believe the Bencrofts were involved in your parents’ murder?”
A flash of grief. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“Forgive me,” Courtney inserted at once, distressed that she’d caused Aurora pain. “I didn’t mean to upset you with my question. ’Tis not my intention to hurt you. Forget I asked.”
“No. Truly, it doesn’t hurt to talk about it. Lord knows I rehashed it for Bow Street, and then countless times with Slayde. ’Tis only that I spent months, years, racking my brain for some detail I might have forgotten, something that could have identified their killer. The problem is, I was scarcely ten years old when it happened and was therefore sound asleep in my room, which, as you know, is one landing and half a house away from where the murder took place. I heard no commotion. The question is, was that because none occurred—that Mama and Papa knew their killer and willingly admitted him? Or is it because the murderer caught them by surprise and committed his crime so swiftly and silently that he didn’t disturb the rest of the house? I simply don’t know. But I can tell you this: I do believe that Chilton Bencroft was capable of murder.”
“You remember him?”
A shiver. “I saw him but once, on that horrible day he exploded into Pembourne. ’Twas enough. Chilton Bencroft was not a man to forget. Especially if one was a child. He’s the sort that leaves a lasting, terrifying image in a young mind. His eyes burned with a rage that bordered on insanity. His voice could smother the sound of thunder, and the threats he hurled at Papa were heard throughout the entire first floor of the manor—by me and the servants. And, of course, Slayde, who physically threw him out.”
“What about Lawrence? Do you remember him?”
“Vaguely.” Aurora frowned. “I remember only a tall, black-haired man with a drink in his hand. Chilton was so overpowering, I hardly noticed his son. Was Lawrence capable of murder? I simply don’t know.”
“Well, Slayde believes he was—on some level then; on all levels now. Chilton is dead. If Lawrence hired Armon to kill my father, steal his ship, and blackmail Slayde into delivering the black diamond, then he did it on his own.”
“How does Slayde plan to prove this?”
“He’s investigating all Lawrence’s activities since his sudden re-emergence from Morland, as well as all his business dealings. If the duke is in possession of the black diamond or connected to Armon in any way, Slayde will uncover that information—and use it to condemn Morland to Newgate.”
“And both your father and my parents’ murders will be avenged,” Aurora concluded fervently.
“Avenged, yes. Altered, no.” Courtney traced the pattern of her napkin. “When I first regained consciousness, Slayde warned me that vengeance wouldn’t ease the pain. He was right. If Papa is dead, no amount of retribution can bring him back. That’s part of what Slayde has been grappling with all these years. He yearns for justice, yet he knows it cannot alleviate the sense of loss he’s felt since your parents’ deaths.” She swallowed. “God, how
I wish I could help him.”
“I think you are—more than Slayde knows.” Aurora studied Courtney’s face. “Perhaps more than either of you knows.” With that, she leaned forward, gesturing toward Courtney’s plate. “Eat. You need your strength—to talk to the investigator and to endure being berated by my brother when he learns you attempted the lighthouse.” Grinning, she cut another piece of mutton. “I don’t envy you.”
Both women’s soft laughter trailed into the hallway, where Miss Payne hovered, ostensibly reviewing her list of the day’s chores. Slipping the page into her pocket, she glanced about, confirming that the corridor was deserted. Reassured, she hurried off, acutely aware of the pressing responsibility that had just presented itself.
It was imperative that she report all she’d learned. Immediately.
Chapter 8
“AURORA, I WANT TO speak with you—now.”
Rising from her writing desk, Aurora picked up the missive she’d just addressed and tossed Slayde an unruffled look. “Of course you do.” She crossed over, ignoring his formidable presence in her doorway and stepping past him into the hall. “Constance?” she called to a passing maid. “Would you mind asking Siebert to have this letter delivered to Lady Stanwyk before dark?”
“Certainly, m’lady.” The girl took the note, curtsied, and went to do Aurora’s bidding.
“Planning another excursion?” Slayde inquired dryly.
Aurora’s smile was pure sunshine. “If I were, I’d have been smart enough to do so while you were in Dartmouth.” She re-entered her chambers. “Please, do come in.”
Slayde complied, shutting the door behind him. “Damnit, Aurora, what were you thinking?”
She faced her brother, arms folded across her chest, not even pretending to misunderstand the cause of his unrest. “What was I thinking? That Courtney was desperate to do something, to find some degree of resolution that would put her life in order. That had I refused to accompany her, she’d have attempted the lighthouse on her own—in which case, I wouldn’t have been there to summon help, and she might have suffered a relapse.”
“You’re trying to convince me this stroll was Courtney’s idea?”
“I’m not trying to convince you of anything. As I told Courtney, I haven’t managed to do so in twenty years, so I’ve all but given up. I’m simply speaking the truth.”
Slayde sucked in his breath. “Courtney mentioned nothing of her intentions to me—and I saw her this morning just before I left.”
“I suspect she knew what your response would be and chose secrecy over warfare.”
“I’m not amused.”
“No, I can see that.” Aurora inclined her head. “Did you hire an investigator? Is he here with you?”
“Yes. He’s in the library with Courtney,” Slayde bit out. His gaze probed Aurora with carefully measured concern. “Is she all right?”
Aurora nearly smiled at the unprecedented vulnerability in his tone. “Didn’t you see her?”
“Only in passing. I introduced her to Mr. Oridge, who wanted to spend some time chatting with her. I’ll go down and join them in a few minutes.”
“But first you had to lambaste me.”
“I’m not lambasting you. I’m questioning you.”
“Accusing me, you mean.” Aurora pressed on, not awaiting a reply. “I don’t think you realize how strong-minded Courtney is. She needs no one to instill ideas in her head. She does quite well on her own.”
“So she tells me.” The silver fire in Slayde’s eyes banked a bit. “If I’ve been unduly harsh, I apologize.” He cleared his throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll join Oridge in the library.”
“Of course.” Aurora watched her brother’s retreating back, a smug smile curving her lips. An apology, she mused. Slayde’s second unprecedented act of the day.
Perhaps it was time to stop seeking adventure outside Pembourne’s iron gates. ’Twould seem that life here was about to become far more interesting.
The library was deserted when Slayde arrived. Puzzled, he walked through the hall, glancing into each room and finding them empty.
“Is something amiss, m’lord?” Siebert inquired from the entranceway.
“I was under the impression Miss Johnston and Mr. Oridge were in the library. Evidently, I was mistaken.”
“I believe they were there for ten minutes or so, sir. Then they each retired to their respective chambers.”
“I see.” Slayde was already in motion, retracing his path up the stairs, this time taking them two at a time.
“Come in,” Courtney responded to his knock.
Slayde stepped inside, immediately spying Courtney where she stood by the open window, gazing out across the drive.
“Are you all right?” Slayde shut the door behind him.
“Yes,” she murmured without turning. “I was just thinking that this window does not provide a full and proper view of your estate. The grounds of Pembourne are far more extensive than I ever anticipated.” Sighing, she pivoted, facing Slayde as a prisoner would a firing squad. “But then, I suspect my encounter with your grounds is precisely the subject you’ve come to address.”
“First tell me why your conversation with Oridge was so brief.”
Courtney fingered the folds of her gown. “Your investigator is a most insightful man. I think he realized I was not myself. And since he intends to remain here most of tomorrow, gathering whatever information he can, he suggested we postpone our in-depth discussion until morning, after which he’ll take one of your ships and leave directly from Devonshire.”
“A sound idea.”
“ ’Twas Mr. Oridge’s.” Courtney tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her mouth curving impishly. “But, given you think the suggestion is sound, I’m sure you guessed whose idea it was. I have the distinct feeling you don’t think much of my ideas at the moment.”
Slayde didn’t return her smile. “So Aurora was speaking the truth. You did initiate this afternoon’s foolhardy stunt.”
“You’ve already spoken to Aurora?” Courtney shook her head in exasperation. “I wish you had more faith in your sister. She’s neither an idiot nor a child. And she’s certainly not a liar. I hope you didn’t vent your rage at her.”
“I started to. She stopped me.”
“Good. Because she truly tried to dissuade me from going. I wouldn’t listen.”
“Why not?”
Courtney’s lashes fanned her cheeks. “You know the answer to that. I need to do something. I thought perhaps a conversation with Mr. Scollard would provide some sort of sign.”
Slayde crossed over, gripped her shoulders. “A sign of what? Whether your father is alive? Courtney, Mr. Scollard is just a man, not a god—regardless of what Aurora has told you.”
A painful silence.
“Courtney…” Slayde wanted to recall his words and shake some sense into her all at once.
“Slayde, this is a futile argument. Besides, we have more important things to discuss.” Tilting back her head, Courtney searched his face. “Did you learn anything in Dartmouth?”
“Not much.” Slayde’s gaze fell immediately to her lips. Damn. What was there about this woman that reduced every ounce of his resolve, his long-standing vows to ashes? He’d spent the entire carriage ride to Dartmouth reminding himself why he had to keep away from her, to disregard the pull between them. Yet here he was, home not an hour, and all he could think of was holding her in his arms, tasting her mouth.
“Slayde?” Courtney’s expression was quizzical. “Are you keeping something from me?”
“No.” He forced himself to remember the fundamental issue at hand. “I asked a lot of questions, got the names of three merchants who were reputedly adept at forgery and were rumored to handle disreputable business transactions. However, two of them are in prison and one has relocated to Paris to bleed fresh prey. None of them was in Dartmouth this past month and therefore none could have been Armon’s contact. There was a f
ourth fellow mentioned, a John Grimes, an unsavory merchant who apparently sells everything from valuable paintings to gems. Unfortunately, he has conveniently been out of town since yesterday, not due to return until next week. I didn’t leave my name, only the fact that I’m in search of a particular painting and that he was mentioned as a possible source. This way, he won’t be forewarned and try to bolt. But when he returns from his little holiday, I’ll be waiting.
“As for Armon’s known contacts,” Slayde continued with a disgusted frown, “I was in and out of every pub in Dartmouth, handing out pound notes by the dozens. The lowlifes that frequent the places took my money, admitted to knowing Armon, then proceeded to tell me precisely what we already knew: that Armon captained the Fortune; that he and his men were notorious for the booty they obtained at sea; that of late, Armon had taken to bragging that very soon he’d be coming into a huge sum—enough to keep him fat and happy for life. None of which is any great revelation. So, effectively, I have nothing concrete to report.”
“I see.” Beneath his hands, Slayde could feel Courtney’s shoulders tense.
“We’ve just begun,” he told her quietly. “We will unravel this mystery. Remember, I gave you my word.”
That wrenching smile. “I haven’t forgotten. ’Tis what keeps me going when all else seems hopeless.”
“Cutterton said you’d collapsed.” Slayde’s voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears, “That he carried you back to the manor.”
“ ’Tis true. He was extremely kind.”
“And you are extremely weak.” Slayde’s hands glided up to frame her face. “What must I do to keep you from jeopardizing your recovery? Lock you in your room?”
“That depends. Would you stay locked in with me?” The instant the words were out, Courtney looked positively mortified, as if she wanted to sink through the floor and die. Her face grew hot beneath Slayde’s palms, twin spots of crimson staining her cheeks nearly as red as her hair. “Forgive me…I…”
“Yes,” he heard himself say, touched by her heartfelt candor, propelled by something far stronger than his resistance. “Yes, I’d stay with you.” With that, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.