Legacy of the Diamond

by Andrea Kane

  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."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  The 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.

  Was it an indication that her father was alive? Or simply a manifestation of her internal turmoil over Slayde? Either way, by week's end, she was a nervous wreck. 'Twas time to act.

  Her mood was one of staunch determination when she arose on the sixth day following Slayde's departure. She'd slept not a wink, alternately planning the upcoming day and tossing about in a futile attempt to rest her cluttered mind.

  This was to be the day; she'd decided that somewhere between three and four A.M. Aurora didn't know it yet, but right after breakfast, they were going to make the long-awaited trek to the lighthouse—only this time they would succeed.

  Courtney frowned, brushing disheveled strands of hair off her face and crossing over to the dressing table. What she truly wanted was to leave for the Windmouth Lighthouse immediately, and breakfast be damned. But Elinore was joining them for their morning meal, and she'd be terribly hurt if Aurora and Courtney were absent when she arrived, so the conversation with Mr. Scollard would have to wait a few more hours.

  Pensively, Courtney poured cool water into the basin. If things went well, she could visit with Elinore, meet with Mr. Scollard, and be back at Pembourne by midafternoon—just in case the other cause of her upheaval returned.

  Slayde.

  Instinct told her he'd be home soon. The very thought made her pulse race, triggering several different reactions, each one as powerful as it was conflicting. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and welcome him home. She wanted to hang back and see if he could really keep his vow and restrain his feelings for her. She wanted to interrogate him about whatever he'd learned in London.

  And she wanted to do these things all at once.

  Courtney rolled her eyes. 'Twas no wonder she couldn't sleep. She could scarcely manage her thoughts when she was awake.

  A songbird outside her window trilled, reminding he, that the morning was ticking by. Well, whether or not the new day was ready for her, she was ready for it. Purposefully, she splashed some water on her face, just as her bedchamber door opened.

  "Courtney?" Aurora poked her head in. "Finally, you're up. Did I forget to tell you Elinore was coming to breakfast?"

  "You told me four times," Courtney assured her, grinning as she plucked a lime-green day dress from her wardrobe. "And each time I was delighted."

  "But you're not ready." Still hovering in the doorway, Aurora frowned.

  "The viscountess is not due at Pembourne for over an hour," Matilda announced, sailing into the room. "I'm certain we can have Miss Courtney dressed and ready in that amount of time. That is, if we have no interruptions." She arched an affectionate—though pointed—brow at Aurora.

  "Very well," Aurora said with a sigh.

  "I'd planned to find you before breakfast anyway," Courtney told Aurora with a meaningful glance. "If it's acceptable to you, I'd like to take that walk we discussed just as soon as Elinore leaves."

  Aurora brightened at once. "Of course. I know just the walk you mean."

  "So do I," Matilda inserted dryly. "Are you certain you're up for it, Miss Courtney?"

  "I'm certain," Courtney replied. Grinning, she did a mock pirouette in place. "See? I'm as good as new."

  "Almost," Matilda qualified.

  "Excellent!" Aurora turned to go, infinitely more cheerful than when she'd arrived. "I'll see if Cook needs help."

  "And I'll be on time for breakfast," Courtney called after her. Still smiling, she turned to Matilda. "If I'd been blessed with a sister, I'd want her to be just like Aurora."

  "Perhaps that blessing will come to pass," Matilda replied, readying the gown as Courtney slipped out of her nightrail and into her undergarments.

  Courtney's fingers paused on the ribbons of her chemise. "What do you mean?"

  A knowing smile. "Here, lovey, step into this." She eased the dress up Courtney's torso, carefully avoiding the tender area where her ribs had recently healed. "I mean that you and Lady Aurora might become sisters, after all. If not through blood, then through marriage."

  The very word made Courtney's mouth go dry. "What makes you think that could happen?"

  "Really, Miss Courtney, I've worked at Pembourne since before the earl was born. I'm aware of everything that occurs here—as well as things that don't. And one would have to be blind not to see the way you and Lord Pembourne look at each other. If ever there were two people in love, it's you."

  "You're very insightful," Courtney murmured. "But Matilda, love in one thing; marriage is quite another."

  "The earl hasn't a snobbish bone in his body. So if you're fearful of the class difference…"

  "It has nothing to do with our social standings. Nor with our feelings. 'Tis just that—" She stopped, not sure how much to reveal.

  Matilda fastened the final button on Courtney's gown. "Lord Pembourne is a complex man. He's been a loner all his life. That tendency intensified over the last decade—for obvious reasons. But in my opinion, he has a tremendous capacity to love and be loved, a capacity that was buried deep inside him and that awaited only the right woman to coax it out." She beamed, smoothing Courtney's bodice, then lifting her chin with a gentle forefinger. "I believe that woman is standing right before me. What's more, so does she. Now, shall we arrange your hair before the viscountess arrives?"

  Sparks of anticipation danced in Courtney's eyes. "We shall. All at once, I find myself ravenously hungry."

  * * *

  "You're looking splendid. Why, there's color in your cheeks I haven't seen until now." Elinore studied Courtney over the rim of her coffee cup, nodding her approval as she spoke.

  "I'm feeling much better," Courtney replied, biting into a biscuit. "And I have you and Aurora to thank."

  "Not to mention the fact that Slayde will soon be home," Aurora added.

  Courtney shot her a look. "I'd sooner think it's Elinore's visits and Cook's meals that sped my recovery."

  "Then let's just say my brother's arrival will complete the process."

  Elinore cleared her throat. "You're fond of Slayde, I take it?"

  "He's been generous and heroic, from saving my life to opening the doors of his home to me," Courtney answered carefully. "We also have a great deal in common. So, yes, I'm fond of him."

  "And he's fond of you as well," Aurora said cheerfully.

  "How wonderful." Elinore smoothed her strand of pearls, eyes alight with interest. "When did this happen?"

  "Nothing's happened." Courtney wondered if the prospect troubled Elinore. After all, Slayde's mother had been her best friend. Perhaps she wanted more for him than a sea captain's daughter.

  "Nothing's happened yet," Aurora qualified again. "But it will."

  "I
certainly hope so," Elinore surprised Courtney by saying. "Lord knows, it would give him a new purpose, something that should have happened long ago."

  "What do you mean?" Courtney inquired.

  Elinore glanced at Aurora.

  "Courtney knows all about Mama and Papa's murders," Aurora answered her unspoken question. "Slayde filled her in, given the fact that he believes the Bencrofts were responsible for both that crime and the one just committed against Courtney's father."

  "I see." Elinore's gaze flickered to Courtney. "Then you understand the way Slayde thinks, how preoccupied he's been since his parents' deaths. I've tried, over and over, to convince him to bury the past, to get on with his life. But it's been more than a decade, and he's only withdrawn deeper and deeper into himself. If you can give him something else to care about, a future to look toward, you'll have repaid his heroism and generosity threefold."