Andrea Kane (27 page)

Aurora turned. “Do I detect a note of censure?”

“Indeed you do. I know you’re impatient. So am I. But bursting into Slayde’s study tonight would be a mistake. Should he walk in, it would destroy all our well-laid plans.” Her eyes twinkled. “On the other hand, I know for a fact he’s leaving for Dartmouth right after breakfast tomorrow, which would eliminate the threat of discovery and make your task that much easier.
I’ll
distract the servants, while you get the notes and paper. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Aurora walked back reluctantly.

“There’s more,” Courtney baited.

Her lure had the desired effect. Aurora’s face brightened with curiosity. “Tell me.”

“The first part of my plan will succeed only in silencing Slayde’s worries about the threat from the world at large.”

“But it does nothing to ease his apprehension over Lawrence Bencroft,” Aurora finished for her.

“Exactly. Not only does Slayde believe the duke hired Armon to attack the
Isobel,
he believes the duke’s late father killed your parents. And
I
believe it’s time to resolve that matter once and for all.”

“How?”

“Tomorrow, while Slayde is away, I am going to pay a little call on the Duke of Morland. I’m going to confront him with evidence and perhaps elicit a reaction.”

“But you have no evidence.”

“I’ll feign otherwise. I’ll pretend to be emotionally overwrought, determined to vent my rage at the duke. I’ll tell him who I am, that I know he hired Armon to seize my father’s ship. Then I’ll blurt out how Armon gloated over his intentions to cheat his employer out of the stone. Too witless to control my tongue, I’ll let it slip that I’ve recovered Armon’s journal, which specifies everything—and everyone—who was involved in the plot,
in writing.
And I’ll conclude by informing the duke that I’ve delved deeply into his past and have proof that he and his father did, indeed, murder the late Earl and Countess of Pembourne. I’ll give him an ultimatum: either he confesses to his connection to Armon, or I’ll go to Bow Street about both crimes, the latter of which was cold-blooded murder, punishable by hanging.”

Aurora listened to Courtney’s story with an awed shake of her head. “You’re amazing. I never realized you were so…so…”

“So much like you?” Courtney teased. “Remember, I was ill when you met me. I’m healed now. And I’m every bit as resourceful—
and
as much trouble—as you are.”

“Where do I fit into all this?” Aurora demanded. “I’m not letting you go to Morland alone.”

“I never imagined you would. Your job there will be to distract Slayde’s investigator, a needed precaution in the event Slayde told him our names. If that’s the case and the man hears my name announced, he’ll doubtless rush forward to stop me, thus ruining everything. I need enough time to get into the manor and confront the duke. I don’t care if I’m spied on my way out—Slayde is going to hear about this visit soon enough—from the duke himself, if he reacts according to plan. But I want the chance to do what I came to do before I’m dragged off.”

“Courtney.” Aurora paled. “What if Lawrence Bencroft really did kill my parents? What if he’s dangerous? You could get hurt.”

“Slayde believes Chilton was the truly dangerous Bencroft, and he’s dead. Besides, Lawrence wouldn’t assault me in front of his entire staff.” Courtney chewed her lip thoughtfully. “You and I will set a time limit. If I’m not out in, say, a half hour, alert Slayde’s investigator and rush to my rescue. How would that be?”

“Fine.” Aurora looked equally thoughtful. “Do you realize we could avenge your father, unearth Mama and Papa’s murderers,
and
give Slayde a real life all at once?”

“I’m praying for exactly that.”

A brief pause. “There’s one thing we haven’t discussed.”

“Which is?”

Aurora sighed, torn between eagerness and honesty—honesty winning out. “The
ton
’s reception. You touched on the subject before, then dismissed it—possibly without considering what you were dismissing. Courtney, I’ve heard equally as much about the fashionable world as you have. According to Elinore, they can be quite vicious. During my sole foray into the London Season, she served as my chaperon, thus preventing a wealth of pointed fingers and icy stares. But I don’t delude myself. Despite my elation at attending so many grand balls, I knew people were whispering behind my back. After all, I’m a Huntley. Were I to truly make my debut, be brought out on Slayde’s arm, I’d be subject to blatant rejection and snubbing—even
after
you and I have successfully enacted all we just discussed. As you yourself pointed out, your plan—though positively brilliant—will eliminate the
ton
’s fear, but ’twill do nothing to erase the age-old scandal. For myself, I don’t care. I’ll withstand the less-than-kind reception, just to be among people, to see the world. But for you, who’s already seen and done so much, there’s nothing to be gained and a great deal of potential hurt to endure. Remember, once you and Slayde are wed, the Huntley whispers will extend to you. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Courtney’s eyes glowed. “I’m sure I love your brother. As for the world, I don’t care a whit about what they say or don’t say about me. Let them gossip. Nothing would make me prouder than to stand beside Slayde—as his wife and your sister.” Rising, Courtney walked over to squeeze Aurora’s hands. “ ’Tis not an issue—honestly. But I appreciate your worrying about me.”

A current of understanding ran between the two women.

“Now, back to our plan,” Courtney continued. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll all breakfast together. Once Slayde leaves, I’ll stand guard while you get the papers. Then I’ll head off to the stables and fetch two horses while you plead our case to Cutterton.” A worried pucker. “I’m not the best of riders, but for the relatively short distance to Morland, I’ll manage. We’ll ride to the lighthouse, wait a prescribed period of time, then head out from there. I’ll tell Matilda I’m eager to see Mr. Scollard, but too peaked to walk. That will explain why we’re not on foot.”

“Perfect.”

Courtney gave Aurora’s hands another squeeze. “Again, thank you.”

“No, Courtney, ’tis I who thank you,” Aurora murmured, gazing at her friend. “I believed fate brought you to Pembourne for my sake. Which it did—in part.” An insightful nod. “But the more amazing part…” She smiled. “My brother is a very lucky man.”

“Ah, I’ve been expecting you.” Mr. Scollard made his way down the last three steps from the tower, greeting Courtney and Aurora as they bustled through the lighthouse door. “Actually, you’re a bit early,” he amended, glancing at his timepiece. “Given Courtney’s limited riding ability, I assumed you’d need some extra time.” He shrugged. “No matter. Tea is prepared.”

Courtney laughed, unfastening her mantle. “You were right. I did need that time. Unfortunately, my mount did not. He descended the hill like a bullet. He galloped; I prayed.”

Nodding his white head, Mr. Scollard poured three cups of tea. “Prayers are invaluable—as you’re fast finding out.” He offered her a cup, assessing her with those probing blue eyes. “I didn’t anticipate another visit from you so soon. I’m glad you found your way.”

“As am I.” Courtney knew they were referring to more than today’s jaunt.

“The journey continues,” he apprised her, handing Aurora her tea. “You and Rory are entering a dark segment, but one you must embark upon—carefully. Drink up.”

Aurora took a huge gulp, then broached the subject that had plagued her the past hour. “Mr. Scollard, I asked Cutterton to dispatch one of his men to deliver our letters to London, and he agreed. No questions asked.”

A knowing nod. “He’s a good man, Cutterton. Very dedicated.”

“But intolerably overprotective, as you know from my constant complaints. His attitude this morning was completely out of character. I expected to have to beg and plead, fall at his feet, pretend to be violently ill, concoct some extravagant lie. Yet all I did was make my request—stipulations and all—and off he went to find Mathers, who he assured me was the right man.” Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “Did you have anything to do with Cutterton’s sudden and inexplicable agreeability?”

“I?” The lighthouse keeper’s brows rose. “I haven’t spoken a word to the fellow.”

“Your powers are far-reaching.”

A chuckle. “So is your determination.”

Aurora sighed. “As usual, you’re not going to answer me, are you?”

“I thought I had.”

“Mr. Scollard,” She tried another, equally important, tactic. “What advice can you offer Courtney and me? I know you can’t—or won’t—foresee the outcome of our venture, but what glimpses can you share?”

A fond smile. “Twenty years will be celebrated. Just as we celebrated yours, Rory.”

“My birthday,” Courtney murmured. “ ’Tis in a fortnight. I’d forgotten.”

“You’ve been preoccupied.” His eyes sparkled. “And very inventive, as well. I commend you on your plan.”

Eagerly, Courtney leaned forward. “Will it succeed?”

“Just as it is with me, you see much—and much, you don’t.” Abruptly, the lighthouse keeper frowned. “Danger,” he murmured, an odd light coming into his eyes. “ ’Tis only now emerging to take form. Terrible danger. Look deep within. It’s festering close at hand.”

“Danger close at hand?” Courtney repeated. “Do you mean the duke? Will he thwart my plan? Will it fail?”

Mr. Scollard’s gaze was wise, but troubled. “Sometimes we must fail in order to succeed.”

With a thoroughly exasperated sigh, Courtney replied, “I wish I understood the meaning of your words.”

“If you did, I wouldn’t be speaking them.” His sober mood lifted as quickly as it had descended. “Now drink up. Both of you. Fortify yourselves, then hurry and take your leave. The earl will be home by midafternoon. You have much to accomplish before then.” Another glance at his timepiece. “Goodness. It’s even later than I realized. You’d best take the phaeton. I’ll bring it around. Courtney, you drive. If I recall correctly, your father taught you how during one of your stays in the Colonies.”

Courtney nodded, beyond surprise. “He did.”

Beside her, Aurora’s cup clattered to its saucer. “Phaeton? What phaeton?”

“Why mine, of course,” Mr. Scollard supplied.

“When did you acquire a phaeton?”

Thoughtfully, he pursed his lips. “I don’t recall. I only know it’s on hand when I need it.”

Incredulous hurt filled Aurora’s eyes. “Then all these years, all the times I’ve wept to you about how desperately I longed to escape Pembourne’s walls, you could have helped me—and you didn’t?”

Mr. Scollard went to her, placed his work-worn hands on her shoulders. “Ah, but Rory, I did help you. You just have yet to realize it.” He patted her cheek. “But you will. Soon, I’m happy to report. Very soon.”

With that, he hastened off.

Ten minutes later, Courtney’s and Aurora’s horses were pulling the phaeton along the quiet country road at a healthy clip as Courtney steered them decisively toward Morland. “Papa would be proud. Evidently, his lessons did sink in. Which is a relief, given how pathetic I am on horseback.”

“You were awkward, not pathetic,” Aurora protested. “Remember, you spent most of your life on a merchant ship, where riding is not exactly a priority.” She pointed southwest. “Morland’s estate is six miles inland. If we continue on this road, we’ll reach Newton Abbot, the village on the outskirts of Morland. From there, we take the right fork and follow it directly to Morland.”

Courtney blinked. “I intended to follow this road inland, but only because I’ve heard Papa’s crew describe Newton Abbot as being set back from the shore. After that, I feared we’d have to rely upon our wits.”

A grin. “Sometimes, though rarely, I’ll admit, knowledge surpasses wits. This is one of those times.”

“How did you come by such specific instructions?”

“I took the liberty of questioning Siebert—casually, of course. He’s a wealth of information, privy to everything. Except, this time, my intentions. Even
he
never imagined I’d actually invade Bencroft’s home. He thought it was just my insatiable curiosity piping up. And he willingly supplied me with what he assumed to be theoretical directions.”

“And you think
I’m
resourceful.”

Aurora’s grin vanished. “Speaking of being resourceful, where does a lighthouse keeper store a phaeton?”

“That’s but one of a thousand questions about Mr. Scollard that we’ll never know the answers to.” Courtney glanced at her friend. “You’re not still upset with him, are you?”

“I suppose not. If he says he acted in my best interests, then I must have faith and believe he did.”

“I agree.” Courtney gripped the reins more tightly. “It occurred to me that if Slayde is right and Morland has been scrutinizing Pembourne for some sinister purpose, your racing off in a phaeton and
truly
escaping could have exposed you to Lord knows what. Consider that.”

“You’re right,” Aurora conceded. “Perhaps that’s what Mr. Scollard was alluding to.” She cast a worried look at her friend. “Which doesn’t exactly make me feel at ease about your marching into the duke’s home.”

“I have no choice. I must see him.” A pause. “Can you tell me anything about him that might help?”

“Nothing. I don’t even remember what he looks like other than his coloring and the fact that he was clutching a goblet. I know from Slayde that he’s a recluse and a drunk. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

Courtney’s jaw set. “Well, perhaps
I’ll
soon be able to tell
you
more.”

The iron gates appeared in front of them thirty minutes later.

“A formidable dwelling,” Aurora commented, as Courtney maneuvered the horses down the drive.

“It looks neglected.” Courtney assessed the thick woods and uninviting manor. “And somber.”

“Stop just before the drive bends around the house so we can hide the phaeton in the woods. You go in; I’ll conceal myself among the trees, looking very covert. That should arouse the suspicions of Slayde’s investigator—and call attention to me and away from you, allowing you ample time to get to the duke. After that, well, I’ll think of something to keep the investigator’s concentration riveted on me. For a half-hour. That’s it. Any later, and I begin shouting for help.”