Andrea Kane (37 page)

“He?”
Slayde gripped his knees, leaned forward. “Am I the
he
of whom you speak?”

“As I told Courtney, listen with your heart. It won’t fail you.” Abruptly, Mr. Scollard went rigid, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “Danger,” he muttered. “It stalks Courtney like a predator. After today, there will be no protection. ’Tis up to you, my lord. You alone can prevent the danger from seizing her.”

“How?” Slayde demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. “What can I do to keep her safe?”

“You
must be there to see.
Another
must search. You cannot place Courtney in any hands other than your own, not once you’ve made the brief visit fate now commands you to make.”

Slayde didn’t need to ask what the lighthouse keeper meant. Nor did he need to consider his reaction. “Fate doesn’t take precedence over Courtney,” he pronounced, coming to his feet. “If she’s in danger, I’ll abandon my plan to face Morland and head directly back to Pembourne.”

“No.” Scollard shook his head. “Go you must. So long as you’re confronting the duke, the peril will be held at bay.”

“In other words, Morland can’t hurt her if he isn’t there.”

“Those are your words, not mine.” Scollard rose as well. “But you have ghosts to put to rest. Do so. Then return to your home, your sister, and your future bride.”

“I’ll be back at Pembourne before dark.” Slayde began pacing, hands clasped behind his back as he employed the logic of which Mr. Scollard spoke. “I’ll speak with Oridge—his colleagues are all highly respected. He’ll recommend someone qualified to find Courtney’s father. That will allow me to remain at Pembourne while still recovering the gift I’m determined to give my wife-to-be.”

“A sound plan.”

Slayde’s brow furrowed in concentration. “An inlet, you said? You picture nothing more?”

“A
quiet
inlet,” Scollard amended. “Other than that, I sense only a will struggling to remain unbroken and a body struggling to heal.”

“Just like Courtney when I first brought her to Pembourne,” Slayde noted softly. “And she prevailed. So will her father. I’ll see to it.” His jaw set. “A quiet inlet—there aren’t many of those along the coast from Devon to Cornwall. Yes, ’tis enough to go on.”

“You’re a fine man, Slayde.”

The praise triggered a tightening in Slayde’s chest. “Courtney proclaimed me the same. I never believed it—until Courtney came into my life.” He stared at the floor. “She’s a blessing. Her love for me is a miracle. I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm her.”

“I know you will.”

Slayde swallowed, hard. “Starting tonight, I won’t leave her alone for a minute. I’ll carry a weapon, if need be.”

“Your true weapon is already in your hands: your wits. The danger is within, the threat too subtle for a pistol to combat.”

“Courtney told me your prophecy—that the danger lies at Pembourne.” Slayde’s fists clenched. “Who? Can you tell me who?”

“I perceive only undeserved trust and clawing fear. And outside—heartlessness and obsession haunting your doorstep.”

“That’s Morland,” Slayde got out through clenched teeth.

“You’re sure.”

“Aren’t you?”

“That matters not. What matters is your certainty. You must do with your mind what you did with your heart: clear it of the shadows that obstruct your sight. Once you’ve accomplished that, you’ll see what is truly there, not what you choose to see. I think, at last, you’re ready for that, Slayde.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Soon you will.”

“Damn it, I need to know!” Slayde exploded, slamming his fist to the mantel. “Tell me—is Morland behind all this? Did he try to kill Courtney? And the traitor at Pembourne—the one who drew that sketch, helped Armon kill my parents—who is it?”

A pained look crossed Mr. Scollard’s face. “I wish to God I knew. If I did, so would you. But I only see that which is offered to me. Nothing more.”

The torment in the lighthouse keeper’s voice invoked a surge of guilt. “Forgive me, Mr. Scollard,” Slayde said at once. “I had no right to attack you like that; nor to accuse you of keeping anything from me. I know how deeply you care for both Aurora and Courtney. ’Tis just that I feel so frustrated.”

“I understand. There’s a great deal at stake. Certainly enough to incite an emotional outburst.”

Slayde gave a humorless laugh. “Funny, I was never given to those before.”

“Which? Emotions or outbursts?”

The significance of the question struck home. “Neither,” Slayde responded, meeting Mr. Scollard’s gaze. “I felt nothing and expressed less. Evidently, both are outcomes of falling in love.”

“Indeed they are. Savor those outcomes, Slayde. But balance them with your logic. Reserve the irrational for Courtney’s loving hands; employ reason where no love exists. Now go. See the duke. Hear his words. Speak to Rayburn. Then return to Pembourne. Ruthlessness hovers at its portals. Resolution is in
your
hands—as is Courtney’s life.”

“Elinore, I really appreciate your visit,” Aurora said, coming to her feet. “I’m sorry it has to be so short. I hope it wasn’t me—I realize I’m not terribly good company today.”

“Nonsense.” Elinore rose from the yellow salon’s curved settee, fingering her strand of pearls and studying Aurora’s restless expression. “The reason I’m rushing off is because I’m expected at Lady Altec’s in an hour.” She rolled her eyes. “Doubtless, another boring gossip session. Still I did, in a moment of weakness, agree to go. So go I must.” A pause. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent the week worrying, anxiously awaiting some word from you. ’Tis the real reason I stopped by today. Remember, when last I left, Courtney and Slayde were en route to London on a most unsettling mission.”

“I know that, Elinore. And I should have contacted you; there was no excuse for my negligence. ’Tis just that when Lexley arrived…”

“Stop.” Elinore pressed her finger to Aurora’s lips. “No apology is necessary. Now that I’ve seen all that’s occurred in my absence…goodness, you’ve scarcely had time to breathe! First, Mr. Lexley’s arrival, then Courtney and Slayde’s.” An earnest sigh. “Thank heavens Mr. Lexley survived his ordeal. He seems such a fine man, and Courtney deserves something of her old life back again. ’Twas horrible for her to lose her father.” Glancing toward the doorway, Elinore lowered her voice, brow furrowed in concern. “Although, despite her obvious relief, she does look a bit peaked. True, I only saw her for a moment before she went to unpack. But she seems pale, faraway. Is she all right?”

Mentally, Aurora bit her lip, honoring her promise to say nothing to anyone—not even their dearest family friend. “I think confronting the pirates who killed her father took a great deal out of Courtney. But given a little time, she’ll be fine. Better than that, in fact.” Aurora squeezed Elinore’s arm, urging her toward the hallway as she desperately tried to curtail her own impatience. She knew precisely what Courtney’s preoccupation stemmed from: her determination to find out who penned that sketch of Pembourne, a mystery they’d planned to spend the afternoon resolving.

Inadvertently, Aurora’s gaze drifted upward. She only hoped Courtney hadn’t succeeded in devising a scheme to unmask the culprit while she’d been down here entertaining Elinore.

“Aurora? Are you more troubled than you’ve let on?”

Aurora nearly jumped out of her skin at Elinore’s astute assessment. Hell and damnation, why couldn’t she be a better actress? “Absolutely not,” she assured her friend. “Truly. Courtney is just contemplating…matters.” Lord, that sounded about as believable as if she’d admitted Courtney were entertaining an army of men in her bedchamber. “I, too, am glad Mr. Lexley is here. He’s a true balm for Courtney’s pain.”

“She said nothing more about what happened during the excursion to London?”

Elinore’s particular choice of words elicited a tremendous idea, the perfect avenue for Aurora to take. There
was
a way she could be honest and yet reveal something that was not only innocuous but that would, with a modicum of luck, both convince Elinore and divert her.

“Wait.” Aurora pulled Elinore aside just before they crossed the threshold into the hallway, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Courtney did share a secret with us—or rather she and Slayde did.”

“A secret?” Elinore’s brows rose.

“Yes. Thus far, they’ve told only Lexley and me, but I know they intend to share the news with you next. And, given your unnecessary worry, I’m going to divulge their announcement in order to ease your mind
and
to explain Courtney’s faraway look.” With an impish grin, she confided, “Courtney and Slayde are to be married.”

Genuine pleasure erupted on Elinore’s face. “Married?” she breathed. “How glorious! When?”

“Just as soon as Slayde obtains a license. Now don’t say a word until the servants have all been told.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Aurora clutched her elbows. “You’ll be at the wedding, won’t you? I know how much Courtney wants that. She’s come to care for you as much as I have.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Elinore vowed, eyes aglow with anticipation. “In fact, I think I’ll contact my jeweler at once. I have a stunning new gown that would be perfect for the occasion and I must have just the right accessories fashioned.”

“That sounds wise.” Aurora grinned, thinking how typically Elinore it was to make provisions ensuring she’d be elegantly attired for a wedding whose date had yet to be announced. “Oh, Miss Payne?” Aurora nearly collided with the housekeeper as they rounded the doorway. “Would you please bring Mr. Oridge a tray? The poor man is going to starve to death if he doesn’t eat.”

The housekeeper startled, having been checking her list of inventory as she walked. “Of course, Lady Aurora. I’ll see to it at once.” Her gaze flickered to the viscountess. “Will you require anything further, Lady Stanwyk?”

Elinore shook her head. “No, Miss Payne, thank you. I’m about to take my leave.”

“Very well, my lady.” Miss Payne headed toward the kitchen.

“Is Mr. Oridge meeting with Slayde?” Elinore asked Aurora. “Is that why he’s too busy to eat?”

“No. Actually, he’s awaiting Slayde’s return. My brother had an…errand to take care of.”

Elinore assessed Aurora’s expression. “What errand?” she asked, the worry back on her face.

A sigh. “He’s at Morland, confronting the duke. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been preoccupied. Lawrence Bencroft burst in here the other day. He was drunk and raving, demanding to see Slayde. My brother means to find out why.”

“Oh, dear.” Elinore frowned. “I was afraid of this. The duke evidently saw the article Slayde submitted to the
Times.
He must be livid.”

“That’s what we have to assume, based upon the timing of Morland’s visit.” Aurora had to swallow the urge to tell Elinore the whole truth: that it was she and Courtney who had submitted that article, not Slayde—
and
that the entire submission was a clever deception. But Mr. Oridge had stressed the fact that they weren’t to discuss a single facet of the mystery with anyone. Thus, she held her tongue.

“The letter was a stroke of genius,” Elinore was declaring. “Now everyone will have no choice but to believe the diamond is gone. And the Huntleys will, at last, be free.” Her eyes misted. “Perhaps now your parents can rest in peace.”

“I hope so,” Aurora managed to say, assuaged by an irrational surge of guilt. How could her parents rest in peace when the diamond remained hidden wherever her great-grandfather had secreted it?

“You’re worried about Morland’s reaction,” Elinore put in softly. “Especially if Slayde’s admission inhibits his ability to transport the diamond.”

“Yes. I’m terrified he’ll hurt Slayde,” Aurora confessed.

“That won’t happen, darling.” Elinore turned as they reached the entranceway door, her smile restored—whether as a genuine display or merely as an act of reassurance, Aurora wasn’t certain. “Slayde can handle Morland,” the viscountess continued, slipping into the wrap Siebert held out for her. “Especially if the fool is drunk. Besides,” she added with a conspiratorial wink, “your brother has more pressing matters on his mind. Right?”

“Right.”

“Good.” Elinore smoothed a stray hair back into place, gesturing toward the staircase. “Now scoot back to Courtney. And please—tell her I’m here for any assistance she requires. Any assistance at all.”

“At last.”

Sprawled in Aurora’s armchair, Courtney greeted her friend, watching as she slipped back into the bedchamber. “We have only an hour and a half before Mr. Oridge reclaims this sketch.”

“An hour and twenty minutes,” Oridge corrected from where he stood guard in the hallway.

Courtney rolled her eyes. “In any case, I was hoping you and Elinore hadn’t decided to make a day of it.”

“Hardly.” With a tolerant sigh, Aurora shut the door against Oridge’s firmly planted back. “Much as I adore Elinore, this is one time I couldn’t wait for her to go. Did you conjure up something without me?”

A faint smile touched Courtney’s lips. “Would you be devastated if I said yes?”

“Probably.”

“Then rest easy. I’ve been staring out the window, worrying about Slayde. I’ve scarcely even glanced at the note and drawing, much less divined who penned them.” She indicated the page they’d wrested away from Oridge following a ten-minute heated debate—the result of which was Oridge’s grudging agreement to permit them two hours alone with the sketch, after which he intended to reclaim it.

“Well, we’d best start glancing,” Aurora muttered. “Because the precise instant our time elapses, Mr. Oridge will be flinging open that door to snatch the sketch away. As you heard, he’s already mumbling under his breath.” She dropped onto the bed, her expression solemn. “I, too, am worried about Slayde. He’s walking into the lion’s den. Although Elinore seems to think he can manage Morland.” A pause. “At least I think she believes that.”

A pucker formed between Courtney’s brows. “What is it? What else is upsetting you?”

“Nothing. Everything. To begin with, I’m not accustomed to lying. And I’m not very good at it.”

“Nor am I,” Courtney sympathized. “Did you say something to Elinore you wish you hadn’t?”