The Black Diamond

  "Don't worry, soleil." Julian eased the sheets off her shoulders, unnerved by her emotional stirrings—or perhaps by his own reaction to them—silencing both in the only way he knew how. "I won't be hurt." He pressed his lips to her throat, cupping her breasts as he dropped the sheets to the bed. "I have a remarkable incentive to stay well."

  Aurora moaned softly, pleasure rippling through her in tiny shivers. "Julian," she whispered. "Make love to me."

  Her words were silenced by his mouth.

  * * *

  "Good morning, Your Grace. Have you an appointment with Mr. Camden?" The young clerk frowned, rifling through his book as he searched for a nonexistent notation.

  "No, Tolladay, we don't," Julian returned, looking impatiently about the meticulous walnut-furnished office. "But my wife and I need to see Mr. Camden on a matter of some urgency. We've driven a long way. I'm certain he'll make himself available."

  Tolladay consulted his watch, then glanced at the closed inner office door. "He had an early morning appointment, sir. They should be finishing up any minute now."

  "We'll wait," Julian assured him.

  As if on cue the door opened, and Henry Camden's voice drifted out to them. "I'll see to it straightaway, Guillford."

  "Oh no," Aurora muttered under her breath.

  "Relax." Julian squeezed her elbow. "It was inevitable that we run into him sometime. It might as well be now."

  "Julian." Camden spotted his guests and halted in surprise. "I had no idea you were here. Was I expecting you and your bride this morning…?" He broke off, realizing the awkwardness of the situation.

  "No, Mr. Camden," Aurora inserted quickly. "And we apologize for arriving unannounced. I hope it doesn't present a problem." Her gaze flickered to the viscount. "Hello, Lord Guillford."

  Guillford was staring at them, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. "Aurora," he acknowledged in a strained tone. "Camden and I have concluded our meeting, so your arrival presents no problem for me." He cleared his throat, plainly striving to regain his composure. "Before I take my leave, let me extend my sincere congratulations on your recent marriage."

  "Thank you, Guillford," Julian said, his stance as casual as the viscount's was stiff. "My wife and I both appreciate your good wishes."

  "Yes, well, I'd best be on my way." Guillford turned to Henry. "Please contact me when you have those figures." With that he left the office, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Aurora's breath expelled in a rush. "Mr. Camden, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

  "Nonsense." Henry waved her protest away, a hint of a smile playing about his lips. "A little scandal is good once in a while. It keeps one on one's toes." He gestured toward his inner office. "Won't you both come in?"

  "Thank you for being so gracious," Aurora said when they were seated.

  "Not gracious, my dear—adaptable." His kindly eyes twinkled. "You've been wed to this gentleman for but a few days. I've worked with him for years. I've learned to expect the unexpected. Speaking of which, before we address the reason for your visit, I, too, would like to extend my best wishes. May you enjoy a long and happy life together."

  "We intend to, Henry," Julian replied. "Long, happy, and—if the past few days are any indication—rife with excitement."

  "Which brings us to the purpose of your visit?" Camden prompted.

  "Yes." Julian leaned forward. "Henry, this meeting concerns Geoffrey's strongbox."

  "I see." The solicitor glanced uneasily at Aurora.

  "My wife knows everything." A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "Actually, a good deal more than you do, given your timely exit from Morland Manor the day you presented me with the chest." He held up his palm, anticipating Henry's protest. "I realize your decision to leave when you did was rooted in your customary integrity."

  "I won't deny I was curious about Geoffrey's legacy," Henry clarified. "But curiosity is not the quality upon which my family built our reputation. As I explained to you at Morland Manor, Geoffrey's instructions were that you view the contents of the chest alone."

  "And I better than anyone understand why—else I'd be sharing my findings with you now."

  "I understand."

  "But I have shared them with Aurora. So don't worry about speaking freely."

  "Very well." A puzzled expression crossed Camden's face. "But I don't understand. Given your information and my lack thereof, what can I do for you?"

  "You can tell us if my great-grandfather entrusted you with a similar chest," Aurora inserted.

  The solicitor frowned. "I don't understand."

  Aurora chewed her lip, carefully measuring her words. "Based upon a discovery we made at Pembourne, we have reason to believe that James Huntley might have bequeathed a twin chest to his heirs. Did he?"

  "Not to my knowledge."

  "Mr. Camden, I'm a Huntley," Aurora reminded him. "I understand you'd feel more comfortable if Slayde were here issuing this request, but with Courtney about to deliver their first child, that just wasn't possible. I did bring a note in Slayde's hand, should you require it, asking that you release to me anything of James's that you might have in your possession…"

  "That wouldn't be necessary," Camden interrupted. "I've known you since you were a babe, Aurora. If I had what you were seeking, I'd be perfectly willing to turn it over to either you or Slayde. The fact is, I don't. Whatever you discovered that led you to believe James possessed a similar strongbox—at least one he entrusted to my family's care—was misleading. I simply don't have it."

  "Dammit." Julian came to his feet. "It's got to be somewhere. I know it exists. Every instinct tells me so."

  Slowly Henry rose from behind his desk. "If my curiosity were aroused before, it's clamoring now."

  "I know, Henry. And soon, I hope, we'll be able to supply the answers to all your questions. But for now—" Julian gripped Aurora's elbow, guiding her to her feet. "We'd best be going."

  "Very well. I wish you luck." Henry studied them both, an ironic gleam in his eye. "'Tis hard to believe there might at long last be peace between the Huntleys and the Bencrofts. I'd begun to think of that as an impossibility. But if anyone can accomplish the impossible, Julian, you can. Especially with this particular young lady by your side." He crossed over and opened the door for them to pass. "I'm certain you'll find precisely what you seek."

  * * *

  By the next day, Aurora had her doubts.

  Having left Somerset posthaste, they'd driven to Pembourne at a breakneck pace, hoping that in their absence Courtney and Slayde had uncovered something of consequence.

  The results were as disheartening as their own. Despite hours of poring over books and scrutinizing papers, neither Courtney nor Slayde had turned up one shred of pertinent information on either James Huntley or his falcons.

  "What's next?" Slayde demanded, lounging dejectedly on the library settee.

  "Morland." Julian spat out the word as if it were poison. "It's time to tear my father's home apart, bit by bit. Since the key was concealed at Pembourne, perhaps the strongbox—or at least a hint of its whereabouts—is hidden at Morland. 'Twould be just like our great-grandfathers to divide the clues between the two estates. It would ensure that both families were needed to locate the chest."

  "But you've already searched Morland several times over," Aurora protested. "Surely you of all people would have spotted a strongbox that looks identical to your great-grandfather's."

  "If it were visible, yes. But it's possible I overlooked Geoffrey's hiding place. Certainly I might have overlooked a clue, if that's what's concealed at Morland rather than the box itself. Remember, Rory, at the time I explored the estate, I wasn't looking for anything specific. Now I am."

  "Julian," Courtney suggested from her propped position in an armchair, "isn't it possible your line of thinking is leading you in the wrong direction?"

  "How so?"

  "Let's presume the strongbox exists, and that the key to James's falcon cages unlocks it. It'
s still possible that no clue of the chest's whereabouts can be found at either Pembourne or Morland—and for a very good reason. Has it occurred to you that James used the chest not to house a clue, but to house the black diamond when he hid it?"

  Julian raked a hand through his hair. "I considered that possibility. However, given the nature of James and Geoffrey's partnership, I think not. If Geoffrey used his strongbox to convey a piece of this puzzle, I'm willing to bet James did the same. What's more, I don't believe James would ever have taken the risk of hanging a key that would unlock something as valuable as the black diamond out in the open for all to see—even if the chances were slim that someone would realize its dual purpose."

  "Even if someone suspected that the key fit a strongbox as well as a cage, they wouldn't know where to find that strongbox," Slayde pointed out. "Which is the very dilemma we now face—and the reason I agree with Julian. Why would our great-grandfathers provide us with the key to their greatest treasures without also providing us with the means to find those treasures? They wouldn't. Thus, if another strongbox exists, I believe it exists to convey additional information to make our search a plausible one."

  "Oh, it exists," Julian stated flatly. "I know it. Clearly James and Geoffrey wanted us to realize that, which is why they made the two keys look so similar. The question is, where is the strongbox? In my opinion, the avenue leading to its discovery lies either here or at Morland."

  "Then let's go." Aurora bolted to her feet, snatching. Julian's hand and heading toward the door. "We're wasting time. It's only an hour's drive to Morland. Courtney and Slayde can continue exploring Pembourne. You and I will tear through Morland, stone by stone."

  * * *

  An hour and a quarter later, Aurora and Julian's carriage passed through Morland's iron gates and rounded the drive to the manor. Aurora felt a chill encase her heart as she caught sight of the cold, austere dwelling, ugly memories crowding her mind as the house loomed closer.

  "Aurora?" Feeling his wife tense beside him, Julian frowned, watching her obvious fervent reaction. "Are you all right?"

  "I'd forgotten how morose this estate looks." A shiver. "It hasn't changed a bit."

  Julian's brows arched. "You've been here?"

  "Only on the grounds. And only once. With Courtney. Before she and Slayde were married. She came to confront your father. She was hoping to bring Slayde some semblance of peace. I accompanied her, waited in the carriage while she spoke with Lawrence."

  "My father would sooner have sold his soul to the devil than have granted peace to a Huntley."

  "Yes, I know."

  Julian's knuckles brushed her cheek. "You don't have to go in—not if it upsets you."

  "Of course I do!" Aurora sat bolt upright. "I'm as determined to find that strongbox as you are—certainly determined enough to overcome a trace of uneasiness."

  "Spoken like a true adventurer." Julian winked, glancing about as the carriage came to a halt. "Given your abundance of spirit, do you feel brave enough to strike out on your own? Because we'll make the most effective use of our time if we divide up. And since neither of us wants to stay here a moment longer than necessary, my goal is to find what we're seeking and be gone as quickly as possible."

  "An excellent plan. Where shall I begin?"

  "I'll search the first floor, go through each sitting room, salon, and anteroom. You go to the upstairs level and scrutinize each bedchamber—desks, nightstands, wardrobes—then check out the sitting rooms. I suspect you'll find most of the furniture bare, since no one other than my father and his servants have lived here for years."

  Aurora nodded, accepting Julian's assistance in alighting. Then, head held high, she accompanied him to the entranceway door.

  "Your Grace. I wasn't expecting you." A haughty-looking butler received them, and Aurora immediately recognized him as the man who'd admitted Courtney on their one and only visit to Morland.

  "Thayer." Julian looped an arm about Aurora's waist. "This is my wife, the Duchess of Morland." He pronounced the title with purposeful intensity, as if daring Thayer to treat Aurora with disrespect.

  "Your Grace." Thayer's lips pursed but he bowed, greeting Aurora with all the dignity her new title commanded. "Welcome to Morland."

  "Thank you."

  "Her Grace will be exploring her new estate," Julian informed Thayer. "Please provide her with whatever she needs—including privacy, should she prefer it."

  "Of course, sir." Thayer bowed again.

  "I'd like to see the sleeping quarters," Aurora suggested, trying hard to sound like an eager bride.

  "Shall I accompany you, Madam?" Thayer inquired.

  "No, thank you, Thayer. As my husband guessed, I'd truly prefer exploring on my own."

  "Of course, Your Grace."

  "I'll be on my way then." She met Julian's purposeful gaze. "If you gentlemen will excuse me?"

  "You know where to find me," her husband replied, quietly.

  "Indeed I do." Warmed by Julian's reassurance, Aurora gathered up her skirts and headed for the staircase.

  She abandoned protocol the instant she was out of sight.

  Darting around the second floor landing, she surveyed the vast deserted hallway, itching to begin her scrutiny. There must be dozens of bedchambers here, she mused. I certainly have my work cut out for me.

  With that she began, marching into each chamber, going through it inch by inch before moving on to the next. As Julian had predicted, the rooms were all but naked, the desks empty, the wardrobes bare—almost as if no one had ever lived here, not even the late duke whose bedchamber had already been cleared of personal belongings. It was downright eerie, she thought with a shiver. Room after room was the same, filled only with pristine oriental rugs, stark mahogany furniture, and a cold barrenness that permeated every chamber like an icy wind.

  Morland Manor was as much a mausoleum on the inside as it was on the outside.

  Two hours later, Aurora rounded the hall to the next section of sleeping quarters, letting herself into what appeared to be yet another impersonal room.

  Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she went to work, inspecting the empty wardrobe and nightstand, digging under the four-poster bed before settling herself behind the desk.

  No wonder Julian loathed this place.

  The thought popped into her mind as she tugged open the desk drawer, and she found herself trying to imagine what it must have been like for him to grow up here. His mother had died when he was still a boy, and his father had been an unfeeling tyrant who'd all but driven him away. How lonely he must have felt. True, she, too, had lost her parents when she was young. But not before they'd given her a foundation of love, a home in which she belonged, and a grown brother who, independent though he was, devoted much of his energies to her well-being.

  Julian had once had a brother, too, she reminded herself. A brother he'd lost just as they'd both become men. Had that affected him deeply? Had he and Hugh been close in more ways than years?

  Reflectively Aurora pondered the brief conversation she and Mr. Scollard had had regarding Julian's older brother.

  "He was a good man, Rory. Honorable of purpose, generous of nature. Quite different from his father and grandfather. "

  "And from Julian?"

  "Not in principles, but in fact. Very different. "

  "Were they close?"

  "In heart, yes."

  "In heart. Does that mean they cared about similar things or about each other?"

  Mr. Scollard had never truly answered her question, other than to say she'd have to find her answers elsewhere, presumably from Julian.

  An unlikely prospect, she thought ruefully. Julian was reluctant to disclose even the factual details of his life, much less the personal ones. She'd all but dragged information from him about his feud with the Macall brothers—and that he considered merely an unfortunate consequence of his occupation. The idea of his divulging emotional details of his past was inconceivable.


  Still, she had no intention of abandoning her attempts to amend that fact.

  Aurora was about to shut the drawer when a flat pad in the far right corner caught her eye. She extracted it, noting it was a sketchbook and wondering whose drawings it contained. Flipping it open, she was confronted with one of the loveliest pencil sketches of a waterfall, she'd ever seen. Enchanted, she turned the pages one by one, discovering a whole pad of exceptionally well-delineated sketches depicting scene after scene of natural beauty—a grove of trees overlooking a pond, the first snow blanketing a winter landscape, a sunset over the English Channel. Whoever had penciled these drawings was incredibly talented.