Andrea Kane (33 page)

“Close at hand,” Courtney murmured. “Of course—that’s what Mr. Scollard meant.” Intently, she searched her memory. “ ‘Danger,’ he said. ‘ ’Tis only now emerging to take form. Terrible danger. Look deep within. It’s festering close at hand.’ ”

“Scollard said that?” Slayde demanded.

Courtney’s grip tightened. “Yes, the morning I left for Morland. At the time, I thought he was warning me to be careful during my upcoming confrontation. But he wasn’t. He was talking about the traitor at Pembourne. Now that I reflect on it, he became terribly agitated as he spoke the words aloud, almost as if he were sensing something for the first time, as if the danger were just now becoming powerful enough for him to perceive.”

“And the next day, someone tried to kill you.”

“Who, may I ask, is Mr. Scollard?” Oridge interrupted to ask.

“Just a very wise friend.” Courtney didn’t mean to be curt, but she had neither the time nor the patience to deal with Oridge’s anticipated skepticism of Mr. Scollard’s gift. “Slayde,” she continued, her mind racing. “As unnerved as we are to learn there’s a criminal living at Pembourne, we cannot overlook the opportunity this affords us. Until now, we knew of only one accomplice to whoever orchestrated the blackmail scheme: Armon. And Armon is dead, leaving us with no one who can lead us to his employer. Well, if Morland is that employer, we now have another means through which to incriminate him.” She nodded at her own half-formed notion. “I don’t know how yet, but we must ferret out his other cohort—the one living at Pembourne—who can, in turn, lead us to Morland.”

By dusk, Courtney, Slayde and Oridge were ensconced in the Pembourne carriage, beginning their return journey to Devonshire. After a brief reunion with her father’s crew, bittersweet with the joy of survival and the remorse over those still missing or forever gone, Courtney was more eager than ever to return home to the ever-deepening mystery.

Home.

The very word brought her up short. Sometime between regaining consciousness after her near-drowning and now, Pembourne had become her home—thanks to Slayde, Aurora, and a houseful of loving servants.

A frisson of fear shivered up her spine. One of those loving servants was a thief and, quite possibly, a murderer.

“Courtney?” Slayde gazed at her from across the carriage. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she reassured him. “Merely lost in thought.”

“The sketch?”

A nod. “The sketch. We should put this travel time to good use by conjuring up a plan to unearth Armon’s Pembourne contact.”

“We’ll be arriving at Pembourne the day after next,” Oridge pronounced. “By midmorning on that day, if we make only brief stops. That gives us ample time to explore our best course of action. Before we begin, however, I think we’d best discuss the immediate, formidable challenge you should prepare yourselves for.”

Slayde’s brows rose. “Which is?”

“The way you’re going to behave toward and around your staff.” Oridge cleared his throat. “Sir, if our theory is correct and one of your servants was indeed Armon’s accomplice, the last thing you want to do is alert the culprit to the fact that you’re suspicious. You must treat everyone as you customarily do. Also, I must advise you not to converse openly with Miss Johnston or me about the situation, lest you be overheard, nor to mention our findings to anyone.”

“What about Aurora?” Courtney put in immediately. She gripped the edge of her carriage seat, resolutely meeting and holding Slayde’s gaze. “We’ve kept things from her far too long already. Slayde, she’s your sister. She’s also a grown—and trustworthy—woman. If you truly want to tear down the emotional barrier you’ve erected between you, you won’t do it by lying to her. Please. I’m asking you to tell her the truth—
all of it,”
Courtney added, emphasizing the phrase as a clear indication that she included the revelation of the false diamond in her request…something even Oridge knew nothing about.

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.”

A
DAY AND A
half later, Slayde’s carnage 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.

“Well 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.”