by Andrea Kane
Slayde inhaled slowly, wrestling with his decision.
Oridge shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Forgive me for intruding, sir, but I must speak up, given that keeping your family safe is my job. If Lady Aurora is as impulsive as you've described, the knowledge that there's a criminal among us could inspire her to do something rash to expose the culprit, thus endangering her life."
"Remaining unenlightened could endanger her life as well," Courtney countered, never diverting her gaze from Slayde's. "Aurora trusts the staff … and why shouldn't she? With you away so often, they're her only family and have been for years. Given how much of the mystery she's already privy to, it's more than likely she could inadvertently say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Unless she's instructed not to." A pause. "Slayde, please—do this for me."
Courtney could see the effect of her plea in the darkening of Slayde's eyes, the profound expression that crossed his face. His reply, when it came, was filled with husky tenderness. "Consider it done. With one modification. I won't tell Aurora the truth; we will. We'll take her to a private spot and tell her—together."
A riotous surge of emotion accompanied Slayde's use of the word together, intensifying at the realization that he loved her enough to base his decision on her feelings. "Thank you, my lord," Courtney managed to say in a quavering voice.
Slayde leaned forward, his knees brushing hers. "As it happens, we have a great deal of news to share with Aurora. Or have you forgotten?"
"Forgotten?" Courtney wondered if her heart would burst. Had she forgotten that she was soon going to become Slayde's wife? Forgotten the exquisite moments surrounding his proposal? Never in a million years. "No, my lord," she assured him with a secret smile. "I've forgotten … nothing."
Her veiled allusion to their magical night together, while lost to Oridge, rendered its full impact on Slayde. His jaw tightened, his penetrating stare delving deep inside her, unequivocally stating that, were they alone, he'd rekindle those memories here and now.
"Very well then," Oridge conceded, aware of the tension, misinterpreting its cause. "Share the details with Lady Aurora. But no one else. Is that acceptable?"
"Perfectly," Courtney agreed, tearing her gaze—and her thoughts—away from Slayde. "Difficult or not, we have no choice but to keep all this to the four of us, to behave as if we've learned nothing out of the ordinary."
"Agreed." Slayde, too, returned his full attention to their original topic—albeit reluctantly. "Getting back to the matter of resolution, there are over a hundred servants at Pembourne. How the hell do I determine which one is guilty?"
"You can start by compiling a complete list of your staff, then eliminating anyone who wasn't in your family's employ ten years past, at the time of your parents' deaths," Oridge suggested.
"The guards," Courtney put in. "You didn't hire them until after Aurora became your ward."
"True," Slayde conceded. "Moreover, I do keep written records concerning my staff, including the dates they've been at Pembourne, in my study."
"Excellent." Oridge nodded briskly. "Compiling that list and reviewing your records will be our first priority upon reaching Pembourne." He shifted, turning to face Courtney. "Miss Johnston, while we're on the subject of prudent actions…" A discreet cough. "Although I'm duly impressed with your quick mind, I must prevail upon you—given the dangers of the situation—not to rush off on any more reckless crusades like the one Lord Pembourne described to me this morning."
"You have Miss Johnston's word," Slayde answered for Courtney. "From now on, she stays at Pembourne, with me watching her every move. And, should I need to leave the estate, you will act as her substitute sentry."
Oridge's lips twitched slightly. "I see. Is that, too, acceptable, Miss Johnston?"
"Certainly, Mr. Oridge." Courtney's smile was angelic. "I have no intentions of causing Lord Pembourne—or you—any worry. I'll be a most obedient charge."
"Don't believe her for a moment, Oridge," Slayde advised, eyeing Courtney skeptically. "She's as inventive as she is beautiful."
"So I gathered from the details you relayed to me earlier. Speaking of which"—Oridge reached into his portfolio and extracted a folded newspaper, his eyes twinkling—"I take it neither of you has had the chance to skim today's Times?"
Courtney nearly leaped from her seat. "Are the ransom notes in there?"
"The notes and your letter. Atop page two. A most visible location."
"Splendid!" Courtney was already reaching for the newspaper.
Slayde was a split second faster, relieving Oridge of the Times and opening it to the proper page. "I must admit you and Aurora did an astonishing job," he murmured as he read. "Even the phrasing of the letter sounds like language I would use."
"Why, thank you, my lord." Courtney's eyes sparkled. "Coming from you, I take that as the very highest of compliments."
"All in all, Miss Johnston's efforts look quite persuasive in print," Oridge assessed. "I suspect that, between the newspaper article and the ensuing gossip, people will soon be more than convinced that the black diamond and its alleged curse are no longer connected to the Huntleys."
"Precisely what I intended," Courtney said with great relish, reaching for the newspaper.
Slayde handed it to her, scowling as a new thought occurred to him. "I wonder how Morland will react to this public revelation."
"Not happily, I should say." Oridge rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Unless he's innocent or, if he's guilty, unless he's already rid himself of the stone. After today, he'll be under public scrutiny, a prime suspect, given the history of your families. To try shipping or selling the stone at this time would be an enormous risk."
"And the diamond is useless to Morland if he can't profit from it," Courtney noted, triumphantly scanning her article.
"Profit from it or, if he wants only to rid himself of the curse, transport it to the royal family who paid for its recovery as soon as possible—something he'll be unable to do for weeks, perhaps months, until the uproar dies down."
"So Morland might very well be infuriated right about now." Courtney raised her head, a speculative gleam lighting her eyes. "How intriguing."
"Courtney, don't even think of approaching that man again," Slayde warned, eyes narrowed on her face.
"I won't." Idly, she refolded the Times. "On the other hand, maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe he'll approach us."
* * *
Chapter 15
« ^ »
A day and a half later, Slayde's carriage rolled through the gates at Pembourne, its occupants stiff and bleary-eyed, but no closer to devising a scheme for unearthing the culprit at Pembourne than they'd been two days past.
"We'll continue this discussion later, my lord," Oridge pronounced, glancing out the window as they rounded the drive, "after you've compiled that list of names and dates. We'll meet in your study, behind closed doors."
Slayde nodded. "Along with Miss Johnston and Lady Aurora," he added pointedly.
"Fine." Oridge gathered up his portfolio. "Again, I must remind you to make certain no one's about when you alert your sister to our findings. I can't stress that point enough; it's crucial to achieving our end and to remaining healthy in the process. Unfortunately, as things stand, we don't know whom we can trust."
"So we trust no one," Slayde decreed.
"Exactly."
Courtney sighed, shifting restlessly in her seat. She wished they'd already formulated their plan, something that would force the culprit to give himself away. Well, she intended to do so as soon as possible—if not with Slayde and Oridge, then with her favorite coconspirator: Aurora.
The carriage stopped, and a footman climbed down, opening the carriage door and assisting them out.
"'Tis good to be home," Courtney murmured, assessing the manor fondly. There was that word again—home. An inner glow lit her heart.
"Yes. It is." Slayde stepped down beside her, the tension that had accompanied them from London temporarily held at
bay. Smiling tenderly, he wrapped his arm about her waist. "Pembourne is your home, sweetheart," he added, as if reading her mind. "Now and always." He cast a dazed look about him. "Ironically, it's become mine as well."
Hearing the awed catch in his voice, Courtney reached up, caressing his jaw and reveling in the contentment she saw reflected on his face. "Welcome home, then," she whispered.
Slayde turned his lips into her palm. "Welcome home."
Euphoria bubbled inside Courtney like uncorked champagne. "When can we tell Aurora our news?"
"The instant we see her. We can shout it to the heavens, if you wish."
"I do wish," Courtney replied. "Perhaps then I'll believe it's really going to happen."
"Oh, it's going to happen," Slayde declared, his breath warm against her skin. "Just as soon as I can arrange it."
"Good morning, Lord Pembourne, Miss Johnston." Siebert opened the entranceway door and greeted them, evidently unsurprised by Courtney and Slayde's show of affection. "And good morning to you as well, Mr. Oridge," he said, noting the investigator as he walked up behind them.
"How prompt you are, Siebert." Courtney grinned. "You must have sensed our arrival."
"As a good butler, I sense a great many things." A pointedly arched brow, followed by a tolerant sigh. "However, in this case, it wasn't necessary. Lady Aurora has been dashing from window to window since yesterday, impatiently awaiting your return. I told her it could be another several days before you concluded your business in London, but there was no discouraging her. In any case, when she saw your carriage drive up, she bellowed the news of your arrival down the hallway. She should be along any—"
"Here I am." Aurora burst out the door. "I couldn't wait. Our surprise is too exciting. Courtney!" She hugged her friend. "I have something wonderful to tell you."
"What a coincidence." Courtney laughed, hugging Aurora in return. "I have something wonderful to tell you, too." A glance at Slayde. "We both do."
"Well, your news will have to wait. I've been exploding since yesterday, when this happened."
"Happened?" Slayde cocked a wary brow. "Aurora, you didn't try to leave Pembourne, did you?"
"No, Slayde." She rolled her eyes. "I've been here every minute. But, as of yesterday, I've had company."
"Company?" Slayde stiffened, as did Oridge. "Who?"
"Come see." Aurora tugged Courtney's hands, drawing her into the house, toward the sitting room.
Slayde cast a swift, pointed look at Siebert, who shook his head. "No, sir," he said quietly. "Nothing on the missives yet. Although I do believe the current surprise will lift Miss Johnston's spirits somewhat. Also, my lord, I thought you and Mr. Oridge would want to know that you had your own surprise visitor yesterday morning."
"Really? Who?"
"The Duke of Morland."
Courtney halted in her tracks, whirling about to listen.
"Morland?" Slayde repeated in amazement. "He came here?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did he want, Siebert?" Oridge asked.
"I'm not quite sure. He was seething with rage, spouting something about how Lord Pembourne had stolen from him again, wrested away his future. I couldn't make out all of it. The man was thoroughly foxed. But I did assure him I'd impart word of his visit."
"And so you have."
"Slayde, the duke was drunk," Aurora interrupted impatiently. "I listened to every word from the second floor landing, hoping he'd say something revealing. He didn't. His accusations were wild and incoherent, precisely as Siebert just told you. So let's discuss him later. Right now, I want to bring Courtney to our guest."
"Indeed, sir." Siebert surprised Slayde by concurring. "Lady Aurora is quite right. The duke's ramblings were vague, at best. And I do think you'd enjoy accompanying Miss Johnston to the sitting room. Mr. Oridge can remain with me at my post; I'd be happy to supply him with any pertinent details. You can join us in a few minutes. How would that be?"
With a puzzled expression, Slayde complied. "All right. I'll be back shortly."
He followed Aurora, who'd already dragged Courtney halfway down the hall.
"This guest actually came to see you," Aurora was explaining. "But he and I have become splendid friends in the interim."
"He?" Slayde demanded.
Aurora grinned at Slayde over her shoulder. "Yes—he." She flung open the door to the sitting room. "Courtney, greet your guest."
A joyful gasp escaped Courtney's mouth. "Lexley!" She bounded across the room to the settee, hugging the stout man who had struggled weakly to his feet.
"Courtney." He clasped her to him, tears glistening in his eyes. "Thank God."
"Those were to be my words," she said, guiding him back to his seat, carefully scrutinizing him as she lowered herself beside him. "Although somehow I knew Mr. Oridge wouldn't disappoint me."
"Oridge—as I hear it, he's the man I owe my life to."
"Yes. He's the investigator who sent those exceptional navigators I presume rescued you from Raven Island. Mr. Oridge works for Lord Pembourne, who hired him to find Armon's ship. Armon is—was—that horrible pirate who captured the Isobel, in case you didn't know his name. Which you probably did, given you spent more time topside than I did. Either way, he's dead now. He was killed by whoever paid him to steal the black diamond." Courtney paused to catch her breath. "Have I thoroughly confused you?"
A hint of a smile. "No. But not for want of trying. It's just lucky that Lady Aurora explained most of this to me while we waited for you and Lord Pembourne to return from London. The rest I knew from Booth."
"Booth?"
Lexley's smile widened. "He's the head of those exceptional navigators you just mentioned." Glancing toward the door, Lexley's gaze found and recognized Slayde. "M'lord," he said humbly, "I don't know how to express my gratitude. When Courtney fell from my shoulder and was swallowed up by the Channel, I begged you to save her. Somehow I knew you would. At the time, I had no idea that I, too, would benefit from your kindness and bravery. I thank you for my life. But, more importantly, I thank you for Courtney's."
"No thanks are necessary." Slayde walked over, perched on the arm of a chair. "Are you well?"
"I'm weak but unharmed." A chuckle. "Lady Aurora has taken excellent care of me. Why, I've even been promised a visit to the Windmouth Lighthouse to meet this extraordinary fellow Scollard."
"We could have gone today—Mr. Lexley is much stronger than he was yesterday," Aurora inserted. "But since I wasn't allowed to leave the mansion…"
Slayde shot her a look. "Tell me about the rescue," he urged Lexley. "And about the other crewmen who were abandoned with you. Did they all survive?"
"Each and every one of us," Lexley answered proudly. "Oh, we didn't eat much, and at night it got pretty cold. But our prayers kept us going. Prayers are the one thing that bloody pirate couldn't take from us. And look how well they worked. He's dead and we're home."
"Where are the others now?"
"By this time? With their families. Booth arranged everything. I told him I had no family, and he said he had instructions to bring me to Pembourne Manor."
"Oridge," Courtney murmured aloud. "He must have provided those instructions. What a kind gesture."
"Booth and his men were astounding," Lexley continued. "They navigated those waters as if the rocks and currents didn't exist. They got us off on longboats, all nine of us. They brought us food, water, and bandages—some of which they gave us right there in the longboats. The rest they administered aboard their fishing boat. Then they supplied us with enough ale to make us forget any aches and pains we might have. We slept most of the way to Cornwall. Three carriages were waiting there to take the men to their homes—no matter how far away they lived. One of those carriages brought me here." Lexley stared at a spot on the carpet. "I wish I'd had something to give Booth and his men, payment of some kind…"
"They'll be compensated," Slayde assured him. "I'll see to it at once."
Lexley looked up.
"I'll repay you down to the last shilling. I don't care how long it takes."
"Your safety is payment enough."
Pride and gratitude warred on Lexley's face. "I'm not good at taking charity, m'lord. I work for my money."
"Fine. We'll discuss that when you're stronger."
"I'm almost myself. Which reminds me, I won't impose on your hospitality after today. First thing tomorrow, I'll be on my way. I just needed to see for myself that Courtney was all right. Although Lady Aurora did a fine job of assuring me she was."
"I'm sure you're eager to resume your life," Slayde responded smoothly. "But if it isn't too much trouble, I'd appreciate your postponing your departure, merely for a week or two. Courtney is still somewhat out of sorts, as you can imagine. You, of all people, know the full extent of what she endured—" Slayde shot Lexley a meaningful look, the name Arthur Johnston hanging between them as clearly as if it had been spoken. "I'm sure it would ease her distress to have a long-standing friend nearby. Surely you can understand what I'm saying?"
