Andrea Kane (16 page)

Slayde wrapped his arm around her waist. “I will.
After
I’ve escorted you to your room and made certain you don’t swoon.” His meaningful look told Courtney her false bravado hadn’t been the slightest bit convincing. “I’m glad you prefer honesty. You’re a deplorable liar. Now lean against me or you’ll never manage the stairs.”

With a wave of gratitude—and something more, Courtney complied. “A deplorable liar? Admittedly so, my lord.” She paused, tilting her face up to his. “You, on the other hand, are a far too accomplished one. You’ve not only fooled the world, you’ve even fooled yourself. Thank goodness, you’ve just met someone you can’t fool—me.”

Stunned disbelief flashed across Slayde’s features.

Courtney gestured toward the doorway. “Shall we attempt the stairs?”

For a long moment, Slayde remained silent, and Courtney could actually feel the tension rippling through him.

Abruptly, he nodded. “Yes. You’re exhausted.”

Without another word, he guided her from the salon, up the stairs to her room. There, he turned her over to Matilda’s able care. “Rest” was all he said before turning on his heel and leaving the bedchamber.

Perhaps she’d overstepped her bounds after all, Courtney mused a half-hour later, sinking gratefully into the bed’s softness. But instinct told her she’d done the right thing. Slayde needed awakening…and awakened he would be.

Yawning, she snuggled under the covers, fatigue descending upon her like a heavy blanket. Her limbs felt weak as water, her eyelids drooping, half closed. In the distance, she heard Slayde’s phaeton round the drive, then head away from the manor—toward the answers they sought, she hoped.

She wouldn’t fight sleep. She’d give in to it, restore her strength.

Then later, she’d relay her intentions to Aurora, who would be unquestionably diverted and eager to assist in a venture she herself had proposed: getting Courtney to the lighthouse.

And
to Mr. Scollard.

“C
OURTNEY? ARE YOU AWAKE
yet?”

Stirring from a half-sleep, Courtney lifted her head from the pillow and blinked. “I think so, yes.” She brushed tendrils of hair from her face and gestured for Aurora to come in. “What time is it?”

“Half after eleven.” Aurora entered, shutting the door with a guilty expression. “You’ve been asleep since I arrived home at nine. And Matilda will never forgive me if she knows I awakened you.”

“Half after eleven!” Courtney pushed herself into a sitting position, glancing at the clock for confirmation. “That’s impossible. The last time I looked it was twenty past eight.”

“Evidently, you were wearier than you realized.” Crossing over, Aurora perched in a nearby chair. “From all the activity that took place at Pembourne this morning,” she prompted meaningfully.

Courtney began to laugh. “Aurora, you look like a hopeful pup awaiting a treat. Has no one filled you in on anything yet?”

“No. Slayde is nowhere to be found, and not one of the servants can—or will—provide the answers I seek.” Another expectant look. “Can you?”

“What would you like to know?”

“To begin, why was Bow Street here? What did they want? Did it pertain to your father? Your ship? The black diamond? Were they here to meet with you, or Slayde? How did they hear of your whereabouts? Did you learn anything? Will they be back?”

“Only that?” Courtney teased. “Very well, I’ll answer your questions.” Recalling Mr. Rainer’s fleeting but critical visit, she sobered. “Bow Street was here because they found the pirate who took over my father’s ship. And ’twas Slayde they came to see; they didn’t even know of my existence.”

“But if they found the pirate…didn’t he confess?”

“He couldn’t. He was dead—shot in the chest.”

Aurora sucked in her breath. “Dead…where did this happen?”

“In Dartmouth. Some local urchins discovered his body in a deserted alley.”

“Dartmouth is right here in Devonshire, not thirty miles from Pembourne.” Aurora frowned. “Even so, I don’t understand. If he is dead, what prompted Bow Street’s visit to Pembourne? They certainly didn’t come to elicit Slayde’s help. They’d rather consort with the devil than seek out the Huntleys.”

“So I observed. The reason they came to Pembourne, albeit reluctantly, is because they found a note in the scoundrel’s pocket. It was addressed to your brother.” Slowly, leaving nothing out, Courtney relayed all the details they had thus far.

“My God,” Aurora murmured when Courtney was through, “this becomes more complicated by the minute.” Compassion softened her features. “No wonder you slept so long. You must be spent. What can I do to help?” Abruptly, she glanced toward the closed bedchamber door. “And where is Slayde?”

“He’s gone to Dartmouth to try to unearth this Armon’s contact. He’s also hiring an investigator to go after Armon’s ship.”

“To go after Armon’s ship—without us?” Aurora’s reaction was so much what Slayde had depicted that Courtney nearly grinned. “You’re the one who saw this Armon’s men firsthand and can identify them. Not to mention—”

“Wait.” Courtney held up a restraining palm. “Before you plunge into the same tirade I myself did not four hours past, let me put your mind at ease. Slayde has promised to bring this investigator to Pembourne so that I might speak with him—
prior
to the onset of his search.”

“Here?” Aurora sat straight up. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“Excellent. The only thing better would be if you were well enough for us to accompany him on his explorations.”

“Us?”

A grin. “Certainly, us. That’s what being my companion is all about. We must become inseparable.”

“Especially when it means delving into an enticing mystery,” Courtney put in dryly.

“Especially then,” Aurora agreed without the slightest attempt at pretense. “Nevertheless, since you’re not up for traveling, ’tis our responsibility to use today to our full advantage. We must amass all your knowledge and devise all our questions prior to this investigator’s arrival, so that we can make full use of his visit and he can swiftly unearth Armon’s accomplice.”

“I agree,” Courtney replied, reminded of the promise she’d made to Slayde: to probe the matter with Aurora and determine what light she could shed on the possible identity of Armon’s accomplice. “Aurora, you just asked if you could help. There’s one thing you can do, something that might make all the difference in the world. Think—who did you tell of your intentions to travel to London last week? Who might have known you’d be leaving Pembourne?”

Aurora pondered Courtney’s question. She propped her chin on her hand, clearly racking her brain for answers. “I see the direction in which you’re heading. You’re wondering if someone used my departure from Pembourne to feign a kidnapping in order to extort the black diamond from Slayde. The idea is sound. The problem, however, is I told no one of my plans. No one, obviously, other than Elinore, who was my intended chaperon, and Mr. Scollard, who is my sole confidant and would never repeat a word I divulged.”

“I assume that trustworthiness applies to the viscountess, as well, that she would have kept your secret.”

“Yes and no,” Aurora replied frankly. “And the ‘no’ part is why I didn’t tell her it was a secret.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Had Elinore known my trip to London was confidential, she would indeed have kept it from the world. But, had she known it was unsanctioned by Slayde, she would have canceled the entire trip, which is why I didn’t dare tell her the truth. She believed I had Slayde’s blessing, that he knew everything other than the dates of my journey—and those I specified in the note I left him. So, in answer to your question, yes, Elinore is entirely trustworthy—when her silence is solicited. In this case, it was not.”

“I see.” Courtney chewed her lip. “How long had you two been planning this trip?”

“Nearly a fortnight.”

“So ’tis possible she mentioned it to others.”

“Entirely possible. Slayde was away until just before I left, so I really didn’t worry over who knew of my plans. So long as Slayde didn’t know…” Aurora shrugged. “In truth, he’s my sole obstacle.” A thoughtful pause. “What I can do is summon Elinore to Pembourne. She’ll gladly recount who she might have spoken with about my impending arrival in London.”

“That’s a good idea.” Courtney nodded. “Perhaps she can come by tomorrow, if she’s not otherwise engaged.”

“I’ll send her a missive at once.” Aurora shifted restlessly. “I wish we could sail with that investigator. Unfortunately, you’re not yet well enough.”

“True. But perhaps I am well enough for a stroll.”

Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I want to attempt the lighthouse today.” Courtney leaned forward intently. “Aurora, I must determine whether Papa is alive. And if Mr. Scollard is as perceptive as you say…”

“He is,” Aurora confirmed. “I’ve told him all about you—just this morning, as a matter of fact. He’s looking forward to meeting—and to helping—you.”

“Then let’s go.” Courtney shoved back the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Gingerly, she stood, clutching the bedpost until her lightheadedness subsided. “If you’ll help me dress, we can avoid alerting Matilda to our plans.” A tentative step, then another. “She’ll hear about our excursion later, of course. But we needn’t worry her in advance.”

So saying, Courtney crossed the room and tugged open the wardrobe, her motions tentative, unsteady.

Aurora watched, indecision warring on her face. After a moment, she rose, walking over and offhandedly extracting clothing from the wardrobe. “Courtney, I’d like nothing better than to take you to the lighthouse,” she stated, fingering one of the soft muslin gowns she’d loaned Courtney. “But are you sure you’re ready for this? Mr. Scollard isn’t going away. And you’re still so weak. We could spend the day preparing for our chat with the investigator, then traipse to the lighthouse in two or three days, when you’re stronger.”

Courtney’s hands balled into fists. “Please don’t mollify me like a child. You and I both know we can ‘prepare,’ as you put it, in less than an hour. As for waiting two or three days to visit Mr. Scollard…” Her voice choked. “I can’t bear lying abed, hour after hour, accosted by fear and uncertainty. So, able or not, I must try. Today.”

Her desperation must have conveyed itself, because Aurora turned to her, brows raised, and nodded. “All right. Then try we shall. We’ll leave the manor through the rear entrance. That way, neither Matilda nor any of the other servants will see us—except those appointed by my brother specifically to scrutinize my actions, of course. But most of those men are posted about the grounds, not in the manor. And they’ll give us no trouble; they’re quite used to my trips to the Windmouth Lighthouse.”

Courtney flashed a grateful smile. “Then it appears our goal is as good as attained.”

An hour later, she felt otherwise.

“I never imagined your estate was so vast,” she managed, leaning weakly against an oak tree, one that was but a third of the way to their destination, and peering across the endless acres of greenery stretching before her. “We’ve been walking for an eternity.” She brushed damp tendrils of hair off her forehead, her breathing rough and shallow.

“Courtney, I think we should go back.” Aurora abandoned all attempts at tact. “You’re on the verge of collapse. Come, let me help you.” She grasped Courtney’s arm, adding lightly, “If you don’t care for yourself, care for me. Slayde will have my head if I’m responsible for worsening your injuries.”

“You’re not responsible—I am.” Courtney took another half-hearted step. “As I said earlier, I’m not a child. I’m a grown—” Her knees gave out and, with a broken sound, she sank to the grass.

“Courtney!” Thoroughly alarmed, Aurora squatted down beside her.

“I’m conscious,” Courtney murmured, pressing her face against the cool ground and wishing she could just go to sleep until the weakness and dizziness faded. “But I suspect…you’re right. We…should return to…the manor.”

That did it.

Aurora bolted to her feet. “Cutterton!” she called, waving earnestly toward a cluster of trees nestled in the eastern corner of the estate. “I need you.”

An instant of silence. Then, the rustle of trees as a stocky man of middle years emerged. With an incredulous stare, he made his way toward Aurora.

“Hurry,” she urged.

“Lady Aurora,” he began upon reaching her, his tone rife with disbelief, “how did you know to call me?”

Aurora looked equally amazed. “Who else would I call?”

“How in the name of heaven did you know I was behind those trees?” he demanded.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cutterton. This entire section of the estate is your domain. Just as the western corner is Plinkert’s. You have men stationed at healthy intervals between you, precisely as Slayde commanded.”

The poor man couldn’t seem to recover. “All this time, you knew we were there?”

“Of course. Now, please, I need your help. Miss Johnston is unable to walk on her own. We must carry her back to the manor.”

“Yes, certainly, my lady.”

Still muttering, Cutterton bent down and scooped Courtney effortlessly off the ground. “Forgive me, Miss Johnston, but I don’t think your legs will hold you.”

A weak smile. “Thank you, Cutterton.”

She was only minimally aware of their return trip to the manor, until Siebert, the butler, summoned Matilda from her duties.

“What were you thinking of?” the distressed maid asked as she tucked Courtney back into bed. “And you as well, Lady Aurora. Surely you didn’t imagine Miss Courtney could traverse the entire estate, in her condition?”

“Matilda, don’t blame Aurora,” Courtney murmured weakly. “She tried to discourage me. I refused to listen. The fault is mine, and mine alone.” She smiled faintly. “But I shall be duly punished by having to endure the earl’s bellowing later tonight. So, please, have pity on me.

Matilda stifled a smile. “If you’re trying to procure my silence, don’t bother. Even if I agreed to say nothing to Lord Pembourne, Cutterton would make quick work of exposing our deception. He’s doubtless poised and waiting for Lord Pembourne’s return, prepared to enlighten him the instant the earl’s phaeton passes through Pembourne’s gates. So my soft heart cannot prevent the earl’s furious tirade.”