Andrea Kane (21 page)

“Speaking of London…” Aurora leaned forward. “That brings us to the reason for my missive. Elinore, I awaited Courtney’s arrival to address the subject, because we have an important question to ask you—one that affects Courtney as much, if not more, than it does me. I pray your answer will help shed some light on whoever, if anyone, was working with this Armon.” Elinore’s brow furrowed. “Of course, anything. How can I help you?”

Aurora sighed. “At the risk of bringing up a sore point, it concerns my trip to London—the one you and I just made.”

“What about it?”

“During the fortnight we were making our arrangements, do you recall discussing them with anyone? Or if not discussing them, mentioning the possibility that I might be arriving in Town?”

An affectionate gleam lit Elinore’s eyes. “Of course I mentioned it. I was far too excited to keep the news to myself. Further, how else would I ensure the deluge of invitations that awaited us upon our arrival? When Lady Southington and Lady Hucknell came to tea the previous week, I made certain they understood the situation—how important it was for the right people to include us on their guest lists. After all, this was your first trip to London; I wanted it to be everything you craved. I emphasized that very thing to my staff when I assigned two dozen of them to go on ahead and open the town house. I wanted everything perfect for you: your room, your social calendar.” Seeing Aurora slump down on the sofa, Elinore paused, the sparkle extinguished from her eyes. “I assume that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“No,” Aurora replied. “But the fault lies with me, not you. I never told you I intended the trip to be kept secret—most probably, because I wanted just the opposite: for the
ton
to welcome me with open arms. In truth, I’d have been thrilled if the whole bloody world knew—so long as Slayde didn’t.”

Elinore gave her a stern, measured look. “Then Slayde was right. You really did intend to go without his knowledge.”

“No, I intended to
ride off
without his knowledge,” Aurora corrected.
“And
to travel too far for him to drag me back. After which I assumed he’d find the note I left him and accept my decision, however unwillingly. Had I any clue…” Her voice trailed off.

“I’m not sure I understand your line of thinking.” Elinore shook her head in puzzlement.

“Forgive me, Lady Stanwyk,” Courtney put in. “All this is my idea. I wondered if perhaps someone else was involved in Aurora’s feigned kidnapping, someone who learned ahead of time that she’d be in London and therefore arranged with Armon to send the notes and seize the
Isobel
during her absence.”

“I see.” Comprehension dawned on Elinore’s face. “And you were hoping I could shed some light on who that someone else might be.”

“Exactly.”

Aurora shook her head in disgust. “The answer to that is any one of five hundred people, thanks to me.”

“Stop it.” Courtney squeezed Aurora’s arm. “You had no way of knowing about Armon or his plan. You were simply planning a pleasurable trip with the viscountess.”

“I, too, feel dreadful,” Elinore murmured, lowering her cup and saucer to the table.

“Please don’t blame yourself, my lady,” Courtney said. “Neither you nor Aurora did anything wrong. I didn’t expect this avenue to lead us anywhere; the whole idea was farfetched. I merely wanted to leave no stone unturned. The last thing I wish is for the two of you to feel guilty. So, please, let’s just drop the subject. All right?”

“All right.” For a moment, Elinore fell silent, assessing Courtney’s dejected state. “I have a suggestion,” she said at last. “ ’Tis late, and you’re exhausted. Why don’t I return tomorrow and the three of us can spend a lovely afternoon together. In fact, I’ll speak to your cook and ask her to prepare a picnic lunch. We’ll sit in the garden, eat, chat, and relax. How does that sound?”

Courtney felt her last filaments of shyness evaporate. “Thank you, my lady. Aurora didn’t exaggerate when she spoke of your kindness.”

“Then perhaps you’ll agree to call me Elinore. As I intend to call you Courtney. This way, I’ll feel you’re not only Aurora’s friend, but mine as well.”

“I’d like that…Elinore.” Courtney smiled, coming to her feet, a wave of weakness reminding her just how tired she really was. “I think I’ll take your advice and go rest. But I look forward to our picnic with great anticipation.”

Elinore’s smile was as dazzling as her jewels. “Wonderful. Until tomorrow, then. Good night, Courtney.”

The silence awakened her. Courtney sat up, realizing by the darkness and the quiet that it was late—very late.

Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she turned up the lamp, frowning when the hands of the clock announced that it was past midnight. Not only had she slept through dinner, she’d undoubtedly slept through Slayde’s arrival
and
his conversation with Mr. Oridge.

Well, she was now wide awake. And she had no intention of remaining unenlightened.

Donning her day dress once again, she quickly ran a brush through her tangled curls before leaving her chambers. The hallway was dark, most of the servants obviously having retired for the night.

Where was Slayde?

Before she attempted ransacking a manor she still didn’t know her way around, Courtney decided to ask.

“Miss Payne?” She wasn’t surprised to find the housekeeper still up and about, standing just outside the library door, apparently compiling a list of the next day’s chores. “I’m glad I found you.”

“Miss Johnston.” The housekeeper nearly dropped her quill. “You startled me. What are you doing up at this hour? Are you ill?”

“No, I’m fine. I apologize; I didn’t mean to frighten you. Nor will I detain you, as I can see that you’re quite busy. I only wanted to know where the earl is.”

“Why, abed, I assume. He returned to Pembourne before dark, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Could you tell me which chambers are his?”

This time the quill hit the floor. “Pardon me?”

“Lord Pembourne’s chambers,” Courtney repeated patiently. “Where are they?”

“Why, I…” Miss Payne cleared her throat several times. “The ones at the far corner of the east wing.”

“That’s the wing my chambers are in, is it not?”

A nod.

“Good. Then I’ll find him myself and not trouble you further. And as it is imperative that I speak with him immediately, I’ll be on my way. Thank you, Miss Payne. Good night.”

“Good night,” the housekeeper managed.

So much for the reputation Matilda is so desperate to protect,
Courtney thought with an inner smile.
By tomorrow, I’ll be labeled a fallen woman.

Ah, well, there was no one she’d rather fall with than Slayde.

Her smile vanished as she neared his door. The purpose of her visit tonight had little to do with their blossoming feelings for each other.

She knocked.

“Yes?” Slayde’s response was muffled, but too quick on the heels of her knock for him to have been asleep.

“May I come in?” Courtney stepped into the semidark room, uncertain what his reaction would be to her presence. With a surge of relief, she noted that he was both up and dressed, standing by the open window, brow furrowed in thought.

“Courtney.” He looked more surprised than anything else. “Of course.” He walked over, lines of fatigue etched on his face, his gray eyes dark with concern. “Is something wrong?”

Abruptly, something was.

Courtney’s throat tightened as her body became achingly aware of Slayde’s proximity. There was something extraordinarily intimate about being in his chambers, even though they were both fully clothed and her purpose was virtuous. She leaned back against the closed door, gazing up into his hard, handsome face, trying to still her body’s trembling, to remind herself why she’d come. “No. ’Tis just that after Mr. Oridge and I spoke…he suggested…I wondered—” She broke off, not even remotely aware what she was saying.

Later, she wondered who reached for whom. Now, it didn’t matter.

She was in Slayde’s arms, where she belonged, crushed against his body, her heart pounding against his. His mouth devoured hers, took possession without asking, savored every tingling surface. His hands swept over her, cupping her breasts, stroking her nipples until they hardened against his thumbs.

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he muttered thickly, tangling his fingers in her hair, tilting it back to give him access to her throat, her shoulders, the pulse in her neck. “Every time I’m near you, this is all I want.” He felt her shiver and raised his head, frowning. “Am I hurting you? Your ribs?”

“No.” She caressed his jaw, the soft hair at his nape. “You could never hurt me. Slayde, I—”

“Listen to me,” he interrupted, his features hardening with determination. “I’m going to answer all the questions you came in here to ask. Then, you’re going to turn around and leave—before I lock that damned door and take you to bed. Do you understand?”

A surge of heat shot through her. “I understand. Whether I comply is another story.”

“You must comply. I won’t let this happen, Courtney. I will
not
do this to you.”

“You
wouldn’t be doing this to me.
We’d
be doing it to
each other.”

Slayde smiled faintly. “Trust me, sweetheart; it’s not the same thing.”

“Why? Because your reputation doesn’t matter and mine does?”

“Because of all the reasons I enumerated yesterday. Because I want you to know only happiness for the rest of your life.” A spasm of pain crossed his face. “Because I’m so bloody in love with you that it staggers me.” He released her, turned away. “Don’t say anything. Just let me talk. Then walk out of here. After that—” He swallowed. “I’ll be leaving for London at first light. I’ll be away from Pembourne for nearly a week, time enough to regain my damned self-control.”

“You’re going to London?” Courtney was still reeling from the impact of his declaration. He loved her.
He loves me.
’Twas the greatest miracle of her life. “Why?” she asked, squelching the joy she longed to express. “Why are you going? Because of me?”

“No—although, Lord knows I can’t seem to be around you without behaving like a callow youth. I’m going to London because of what I learned today from my Morland investigator. Apparently, Bencroft made a trip into Newton Abbot yesterday. He met with his banker and solicitor, who, I soon discovered, left for London immediately following that meeting. I intend to find out why.”

“Do you think there’s a connection between their actions and the black diamond?”

“I’m sure of it.” Slayde pivoted to face her. “Consider all the facts—which you now have—and suppose for the moment Morland is guilty. If he’d made an attempt to trade the diamond for money, he would have discovered it to be a fraud. Word would have reached us. Morland would have reached us. So, obviously no exchange has been made. My guess is that Morland intends to fulfill his grandfather’s original objective: to turn the stone over to Russia—to the royal family who paid for its recovery, thereby accomplishing two ends: reaping his family’s share of the payment
and
ridding them of the curse.”

Courtney’s brow furrowed. “Where do the duke’s banker and solicitor fit into this?”

“Provisions must be made. Specifically, the stone must be shipped, requiring someone to make the necessary arrangements with a discreet shipping company. A huge sum of money would then arrive in Morland’s name. Someone must receive it, place it carefully and quietly in the bank, perhaps transfer a portion of it to Newton Abbot.”

“I see,” Courtney breathed. “So you’re traveling to London to make inquiries, to see about any unusual, last-minute shipments leaving for the continent.”

“Or any unusual meetings taking place between Morland’s banker and other bank officials,” Slayde added. “As for Oridge, he’ll be traveling with me. He thought of a likelihood neither you nor I did: the prospect of Armon’s men sailing to London to sell the booty they stole from the
Isobel
before they bolted to parts unknown.”

“Wouldn’t that be risky?”

“They’re pirates, Courtney. Their priority is the money they make off their pillaging. If they can line their pockets with silver before leaving English waters, they will. Besides, as Oridge reminded me, why would they assume they were being tracked down? When Armon left the
Fortune,
he had the black diamond in his possession. If he was intercepted, ’twould be the interceptor who had the stone, not the crew. Thus, they wouldn’t feel the least bit threatened.”

“Then my whole theory about their fleeing like the wind is wrong.” Courtney’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps they can be readily apprehended after all.”

“Oridge’s hope exactly. He intends to make several visits in London in the hopes that the pirates will still be about. If not, he’ll determine when they left and sail after them straightaway.”

“And you?” Courtney asked softly. “What will you do once you’ve gotten the answers you seek? Return to Pembourne? Or continue to run away from something you can’t escape and shouldn’t want to?”

Slayde tensed. “I think I’ve answered your questions—at least those for which I have answers. Now go to bed.”

“You have,” she replied, remaining perfectly still, holding him with her gaze alone. “All but the last. You even answered the wondrous question that’s plagued me for days.” She raised her chin, willing him to see the magnitude of her feelings. “Now it’s my turn. I love you, Slayde. With all my heart. And no matter how hard you fight it, how far you travel, that love will be here when you return.” She rose on tiptoe, kissed him softly. “Godspeed.”

T
HE REST OF THE
week passed in startling contrasts; as Courtney’s body healed, her heart ached.

Days were lovely, filled with visits from Elinore, long talks with Aurora, and strolls about the grounds that increased in number and duration as the week progressed.

Nights, however, were endless, plagued by worry, filled with nightmares in which her father was calling out to her, needing her, his image rapidly changing to one of Slayde, doing the same. Time after time, Courtney would awaken in a sweat, huddling in the center of the bed until her breathing slowed and her pulse stopped racing. Then she’d turn up the lamp, fumble for her timepiece, and cling to it desperately, wondering why the dreams were intensifying rather than diminishing.