"I think you're aware of just how appealing you are—to your betrothed and to heaven knows how many other females. What I meant was…"
Julian pressed his forefinger to her lips. "I think I can manage to don conventional attire for one day—so long as you promise to help remove it that night."
"Julian." Aurora began to laugh. "You're incorrigible."
"Then we're evenly matched." He kissed her palm before releasing it. "We have but one thing more to discuss before Slayde reappears and we announce our betrothal."
"Which is?"
"A reminder of the promise you gave me not to discuss with anyone anything I revealed to you."
"I haven't forgotten. And I intend to keep my vow. Further, I understand why you secured it. Your father's ludicrous announcement that Slayde harbored the stone at Pembourne recaptured the interest of too many bloodthirsty thieves and privateers. If news of the Fox and the Falcon were to venture beyond our families, everyone would be doubly convinced that Lawrence spoke the truth. Criminals would descend on Pembourne like vultures, endangering Slayde, Courtney, and their unborn child. No, Julian, I would never divulge the truth to anyone. Other than Slayde and Courtney, of course."
"No." Julian shook his head. "When I said no one, I meant no one."
Aurora's jaw dropped. "Including Courtney and Slayde?"
"Including Courtney and Slayde."
"Absolutely not. I could never agree to that."
"You already did," Julian reminded her. "Not twenty minutes ago."
Flustered anger colored her cheeks. "But why? The truth behind the Fox and the Falcon affects Slayde as much as it does me—maybe more. He's suffered longer and in some ways more profoundly than I have; he's spent eleven years heading and protecting a family that's feared, condemned, and constantly in danger. Not to mention Courtney, who nearly lost her life as a result of the black diamond. No, Julian. I insist that you release me from that aspect of my vow. Lord knows, Courtney and Slayde have the right to know."
"Indeed they do. And we'll tell them—in a fortnight. The instant my ring is on your finger."
Aurora looked totally at sea. "I don't understand."
"Then I'll explain." Julian pressed on, determined to surmount this crucial obstacle. "Aurora, you trust me. You believe everything I've expressed to you is the truth. Unfortunately I don't think Slayde would see it that way. And I'm just not willing to take that risk."
"You think he'd doubt the existence of the journal?"
"I wish it were that simple. If the existence of the journal were all Slayde doubted, I could allay his reservations by producing it. No, I don't think he'd doubt the journal, I think he'd doubt my honorable intentions. Namely, to restore the diamond and walk away—without any compensation or reward."
"Oh." Aurora inclined her head quizzically. "You're concerned Slayde would believe you mean to keep the stone or sell it to the highest bidder."
"Exactly. Reaping a fortune. After I seduced his sister into marriage for the sole purpose of gaining entry to Pembourne—and whatever clues it contains. All of which he'd presume I would do just to expedite my hunt for the very diamond that would eventually make me a very rich man—and my wife a very disheartened woman." Julian's arm made a wide berth. "Hell, I wouldn't blame Slayde for his suspicions. The timing, the myriad coincidences, the sharp divergence from my solitary life—if you were my sister, I'd suspect the worst."
Aurora tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, contemplating Julian's logic. "You're right," she agreed at last. "That's precisely the conclusion Slayde would draw. But a fortnight won't alter his opinion. He'll be equally as skeptical of your motives then as he is now."
"I agree. A fortnight won't alter his opinion. But there's one thing it will alter: your marital status. By then, you'll be Mrs. Julian Bencroft, legally bound to me in a way Slayde can no longer undo, skepticism or not."
Surprise widened Aurora's eyes. "That's the risk you were referring to? You want to keep the facts from Slayde and Courtney simply to ensure that my brother doesn't refuse his permission for us to wed?"
"No, I want to keep the facts from them simply to ensure that you have the wedding you've always dreamed of, and to have those you love by your side." Julian's jaw set. "I intend to marry you, Aurora. Now that you've given me your consent, nothing—not even your brother—will stand in my way. For my part, we can leap into my carriage and ride off to Gretna Green this very minute, after which you're welcome to tell Courtney and Slayde everything. However, I don't think that's what you want. It would preclude your having the traditional wedding you just described and prevent your brother and sister-in-law from taking part in your wedding. Which would shatter your dream." He shot her a questioning look. "If I'm wrong, tell me. My carriage is in your drive. We can leave posthaste, be married in days."
"No. You're right. That's not what I want." Aurora looked touched and puzzled all at once. "For a man who's been a loner all his life, you're remarkably compassionate."
"At times."
"Then thank you for making this one of those times." She cleared her throat. "Julian, I can't help but wonder—when you asked Slayde for my hand, you obviously omitted quite a bit of what prompted your proposal. What reasons did you give for offering for me?"
"Honest ones. The same ones I gave you, other than the issue we just touched upon…" A wicked grin. "…and an elaborate explanation of what happens when you're in my arms. Somehow, I didn't think he'd appreciate that."
"No, I don't think he would." The mischief was back in her eyes. "Very well. The truth remains our secret—but only until our wedding day. Then we tell Courtney and Slayde everything. Not merely tell them, but elicit their help. Remember, my brother knows a great deal more than I about the Huntley family history." She looked knowingly at Julian. "And you needn't worry that Slayde will insert himself in our search. Imminent fatherhood keeps him chained to Courtney's side. Dashing from estate to estate would not appeal to him at this particular time. So rest assured, information and advice is all we'll receive from my brother."
"I'll take your word for it. In fact, I'll agree to everything you just said—with one modification. We'll tell Courtney and Slayde everything the day after our wedding. I have plans for that evening and night—exciting, prolonged, tantalizing plans. And they include neither visitors nor conversation."
"I see." An anticipatory flush stained Aurora's cheeks. "In that case, I suppose the revelation can wait one extra day."
"I'm glad you feel that way." With mock sobriety, Julian extended his hand to her, palm up. "We're in agreement, then?"
Aurora smiled, placing her fingers in his. "We are."
"Good." Julian pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles, his head snapping up as approaching footsteps reached his ears. "And clearly not a moment too soon."
On cue the door swung open and Slayde reentered the study, accompanied by a fine-boned young woman who was classically beautiful and extremely with child—a young woman who could be none other than the Countess of Pembourne.
"Your half hour has passed," Slayde announced, glancing from Julian to Aurora to their still joined hands.
"So it has," Julian concurred.
"Courtney, this is Julian Bencroft—" Slayde wrapped a protective arm about his wife, as if trying to stave off the ugly memories evoked by the name he was about to utter. "—the Duke of Morland. Morland, my wife Courtney, the Countess of Pembourne…" A pause. "…and Aurora's closest friend."
"I'm delighted, my lady." Julian stepped forward, kissed Courtney's hand.
"Your Grace." The countess's sea green gaze was more curious than distressed.
"Please, call me Julian. After all, we're about to become family." He tossed Slayde a cheerful look. "Speaking of which, I'm happy to report that you needn't load your pistol. A duel will not be necessary. A wedding, however, will be."
Slayde sucked in his breath, his eyes narrowed on his sister's face. "Aurora, is this truly what you want?"
"Sur
prisingly, yes." The glow emanating from Aurora couldn't be mistaken for anything short of genuine pleasure. "This is truly what I want."
A taut moment ticked by.
"Bloody hell," Slayde muttered. "I don't know what to do."
Julian watched Courtney and Aurora exchange a long meaningful look, after which Courtney nodded. "Slayde," she murmured, touching her husband's arm. "It's all right."
He gazed down at her, seeking and finding what he sought. "Very well," he conceded, his stare shifting to Julian. "But be good to her, Morland. Else you'll answer to me."
"You have my word," Julian drawled, giving Aurora's fingers a provocative squeeze. "I'll be extraordinarily good to her. In fact, you have my word—your sister will never want for anything." He nearly grinned as he felt Aurora's skin grow hot.
"When did you want this wedding to take place?" Slayde demanded.
"I opted for this afternoon," Julian answered frankly. "Unfortunately Aurora needs a bit more time, as does the obtaining of a special license. So we agreed upon a fortnight."
"Fine. We'll contact Vicar Rawlins. He can ride out to Pembourne, conduct the wedding in the estate's chapel—swiftly and with minimum notice from the outside world. The whole ceremony will be over in a matter of minutes, after which you can whisk Aurora away from Pembourne and from whatever dangers lurk at its gates."
"Pembourne?" Aurora broke in, with an adamant shake of her head. "Absolutely not! Slayde, I'm a prisoner to this estate. I will not get married here as well."
"Slayde," Courtney interrupted in her soothing, gentle tone. "I understand how adamant you are about ensuring Aurora's safety. But every woman wants to be a bride, to have a real wedding day. I treasured ours; I still do. Let Aurora have hers. We'll make arrangements with Vicar Rawlins, travel quietly to his church—the one where you and I were joined. Mr. Scollard can attend, as can anyone else Aurora or Julian wishes. Then we'll have a small celebration here at Pembourne, where the entire staff can attend and help us see the newly married couple off. Surely a few hours can't make much difference." A bright smile lit her face. "Besides, those hours will loudly proclaim Aurora's farewell to the name Huntley … and her welcome to, of all things, the name Bencroft. Would you truly want to deny Lady Altec, who will mysteriously receive word of the upcoming event a mere hour before it takes place, the opportunity to embellish upon a juicy tidbit that will—why, the very next morning surge beyond Devonshire, sweep through the ranks of the ton like a summer storm?"
"I see your point," Slayde conceded. "What good does Aurora's new status do her if nobody knows of it." His eyes narrowed suspiciously on his wife's angelic expression. "Mysteriously receive word of the upcoming event? Surge beyond Devonshire the very next morning? Why do I sense one of your schemes in the making?"
"No schemes. Simply a discreet missive delivered to Lady Altec an hour before the ceremony takes place—enough time to race off to tell her friends, not enough time for anyone to intrude upon the event. Also a few tasteful announcements of what will then be an accomplished fact to appear in the Morning Post, the Gazette, and the Times on the morning following the wedding—timing that will thereby preclude any unsavory types from using Aurora's wedding day as an opportunity to descend upon any of us or upon Pembourne in search of the black diamond. By the time the newspapers—or Lady Altec, whoever travels more swiftly—reach the eyes and ears of the ton, Aurora will be away from Pembourne and the curse."
Julian's jaw dropped, although he noted no one else in the room seemed to share his surprise. Clearly the countess's serene facade was a deceptive cloak for a character as strong and resourceful as Aurora's—the sole difference being that Courtney's fire simmered while Aurora's flared.
Abruptly Julian understood how these two women had become such close friends.
"How does that sound to you, Julian?" Courtney inquired.
"It sounds brilliant," Julian heard himself reply. "However, I must say that the true congratulations here belong to your husband. Living with one tempest is enough. But two?"
For the first time, a semblance of a smile tugged at Slayde's lips. "I appreciate your commendation—a well-deserved one, I might add."
Aurora groaned.
Courtney tossed Julian a challenging look. "One thing more. If we hold the ceremony away from Pembourne, it will give you the opportunity to accustom yourself to the responsibility that—according to my husband's mutterings over the past half hour—you vowed to assume: that of keeping Aurora safe."
"A test, my lady?" Julian suggested boldly.
Courtney's gaze shifted from Julian to Aurora and back, her eyes twinkling with pleasure. "I think not. An onset, Your Grace."
Julian chuckled, welcoming Courtney's spunk. "In that case, I'd be delighted to shoulder my new role as Aurora's protector the very instant she becomes my wife."
"Good." Courtney turned to her husband. "Slayde?"
Still, Slayde hesitated. "The ride to the village might be too much for you and the babe."
"Our child isn't due to make an appearance for more than a month beyond Aurora's chosen wedding day," Courtney reminded him gently. "As for the ride, it's scarcely a mile from Pembourne to the village. Both the babe and I will fare wonderfully, my love. I promise."
"Fine." At last, Slayde seemed to be convinced. "A wedding it is. At the village church. With a party to follow, here at Pembourne. Would that please you, Aurora?"
"Oh, yes," Aurora breathed. "Very much." She grinned at Courtney. "Thank you."
"You're more than welcome," her friend answered in that tranquil way of hers.
"Julian." Slayde's tone and expression had lost all traces of lightheartedness. "There's one last issue we must discuss, that being the reality of your father's grand proclamation prior to his death. I realize there was no affinity between the two of you; however, I need to know your intentions with regard to his investigation. Do you mean to continue it, to support his ludicrous claim that I'm harboring the black diamond here at Pembourne? If so, you'd best tell me now before you whisk away my sister, then insert her between us."
Julian felt Aurora's pointed gaze—a gaze not furrowed in worry over where his allegiance might lie, he noted thankfully, but one that was bright with curiosity over how he proposed to address Slayde's query—one Julian himself had been anticipating.
"The answer, Slayde, is no," he returned smoothly. "I don't intend to pursue my father's so-called investigation. And not because I won't come between Aurora and her family—although I respect her feelings for you and Courtney—but because I've already perused my father's papers thoroughly, and they're no more than an empty and grasping crusade conducted by a mean-spirited man. His entire investigation consists of a notebook filled with empty accusations and rambling avenues that have turned up nothing. There isn't one shred of tangible evidence there, nor even a concrete path worthy of pursuit. Certainly nothing to compel me to further his course. In fact, I'd all but decided to dispose of his notes when it occurred to me you might want to see them, to assure yourself that I speak the truth." Julian gestured toward the window. "The papers are in my carriage. My footman will fetch them before I leave. Read them at your leisure. Then do with them what you will. In the interim, I'll make a public statement retracting my father's accusations. I might not be able to undo all the damage he caused, but perhaps I'll shake some reason into people, succeed in deterring a few prospective thieves from invading Pembourne. Does that satisfactorily address your concerns?"
Slayde gave an audible sigh of relief. "It does."
"Have we covered all your objections, then?"
"To my amazement, yes."
"Good." Julian's fingers tightened about Aurora's. "Then 'tis time to embrace the future." He turned to his bride-to-be, gave her a conspiratorial wink that spoke volumes. "The future—and all it entails."
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
"Ah, Rory. Excellent. It's five minutes past six. You're just in time for tea and
sunrise. A half hour for the former, a quarter hour for the latter."
Mr. Scollard brushed a shock of white hair from his forehead and gestured toward the tray of refreshment laid out in the Windmouth Lighthouse's small sitting room. "Come. Sit by the fire. It will warm the winter chill away. As will the tea."
"Fortifying tea, I hope," Aurora replied, slipping out of her mantle and crossing over to accept the proffered cup of steaming brew. She had long since given up being surprised by Mr. Scollard's foreknowledge of all her visits—a knowledge based not on firsthand scrutiny of her approach, but on some innate awareness that only Mr. Scollard possessed. One simply accepted Mr. Scollard's visionary abilities as a given, part of what made him the remarkable man he was.
"Very fortifying. Stronger than usual." He indicated a platter piled high with iced cakes, three of which he placed on a plate for his guest. "I made more of your favorite cakes, too. After all, this is a celebration of sorts. Even if the path leading to this all-important threshold was strewn with your customary impatience and impulsiveness." He arched a pointed brow at Aurora, then settled himself on the settee. "I don't know what I'm going to do about that reckless nature of yours," he declared, kindling the fire to a higher blaze. "'Tis a good thing I soon won't have to contend with it alone."