From the doorway, Thayer gave a delicate cough. “If there will be nothing else, sir?”
Morland’s gaze never left Slayde’s. “No, Thayer, you’re welcome to bolt. Shut the door behind you. Oh, and you’re bound to hear shouts. Ignore them. The earl and I have a great deal of catching up to do.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.” The butler fled like a pursued rabbit.
“I could kill you, you filthy bastard,” Morland spat the instant he and Slayde were alone.
“I don’t doubt it,” Slayde shot back. “You have a wealth of experience when it comes to murder.” A pause, flashes of Courtney’s near-fatality jolting through him. “And attempted murder.”
Morland’s eyes narrowed. “Attempted murder? Have you a new accusation to add to your demented list of crimes?”
“I have many. Are you sober enough to hear them?”
“I’m as sober as you are.”
“As you were the day you burst into Pembourne?”
“No. That day I was drunk. Today I’m livid.” Morland gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. “Don’t confuse the two. Now, where is it? Where is that blasted diamond?”
“You already know the answer to that, Morland.” Slayde’s voice was menacingly quiet. “So drop the façade and give me the answers I seek. I’m not leaving here without them. I’ll drag them from your lips if I must, employing whatever methods are necessary to get them.”
“You dare to threaten me?” Morland roared, picking up an empty goblet and hurling it against the fireplace, where it smashed into a hundred shards. “You, who handed my life over to that pirate along with the black diamond? You had no bloody right. I don’t give a damn about your sister’s life. That privateer was welcome to her—’twould be one less Huntley to contend with.”
Slayde’s control snapped. “You miserable…” He crossed the room in a heartbeat, his fist connecting with Morland’s jaw.
“Go ahead,” Morland taunted, panting as he regained his balance. “Thrash me. Beat me senseless. I’m condemned to an eternal hell anyway, thanks to the Huntleys. You’re all animals, cursed thieves who have hoisted your curse onto us.” He rubbed his jaw, words of enmity spilling forth of their own accord. “Four generations, my family has suffered, died, from your greed and hatred. Did you have the jewel all these years, you wretched scoundrel? Or did you uncover it just in time to relinquish it and damn the Bencrofts to immortal doom?”
Something penetrated Slayde’s rage, gave him pause. Perhaps it was Morland’s tone, his desperation. Perhaps it was instinct, the new awareness Slayde had only just acquired. In any case, he found himself waiting, deferring his next punch, listening to Morland’s ramblings.
“What’s wrong with you Huntleys?” he was demanding, raking both hands through his hair. “Don’t you want to be rid of that curse? Do you enjoy being haunted by demons? Or is it just the sheer pleasure of tormenting the Bencrofts that stirs your black-hearted souls? You don’t need the fortune that diamond would bring. Hell, you’ve got more money than you know what to do with.”
“While you don’t,” Slayde said at once.
A harsh laugh. “You know damned well I’m in dire financial straits. The Bencrofts have lost countless fortunes thanks to your great-grandfather’s piracy. We’ll continue to lose countless more.”
“So you view the diamond as payment for your suffering.”
“Payment and salvation. Moreover, I was on the verge of finding the stone, restoring it to where it belonged so I could at last set things right. Oh, I could never obliterate the past, but I could grant my ancestors peace and myself a measure of security in my old age. I would have succeeded. I’d raised the money to begin my search. And then—this!” Morland snatched up a copy of the Times and flung it to the floor at Slayde’s feet.
Slowly, Slayde’s gaze traveled to the open newspaper, glancing from the article on page two to the vein pulsing furiously at Morland’s temple to the unfeigned enmity—and trepidation—glistening in his eyes.
A deluge of stunned awareness struck, transforming Slayde’s rage to shock, to doubt and, ultimately, to realization: Lawrence Bencroft was telling the truth.
Drawing in a slow breath, Slayde assimilated the snatches of information he’d just been given, fit all the pieces together.
“Morland,” he somehow managed to reply, “are you suggesting that not only did you not pay Armon to steal the black diamond but that your sudden re-emergence in the business world was an attempt to finance a search for the stone?”
“Are you suggesting you didn’t know that?”
“How would I?”
Morland’s smile was grim. “Oh, come now, Pembourne. You told me yourself you’d delved into my business affairs. Quite thoroughly, I presume. What did you discover I’d been doing with my funds?”
“Transferring them. Amassing them. Spending an unusual amount of time meeting with your solicitor and banker discussing them.” Slayde’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s put the results of my inquiries aside. If what you claim is true, why didn’t you combat my accusations, or Courtney’s for that matter, by revealing this convenient detail? She and I both, on separate occasions, appeared on your doorstep, accusing you of orchestrating the plan to pilfer the diamond. You said nothing to prove you weren’t involved.”
“I have nothing to prove, not to you or that crazed woman you sent here. And since my money was being invested in a search—the onset of which was a thorough investigation of your activities to ensure that you weren’t, in reality, harboring the diamond at Pembourne—it hardly seemed prudent to disclose my intentions and alert you to that upcoming investigation. Moreover, since I knew I was innocent of all the allegations you and that insane Johnston girl were hurling at me, I never once doubted that, like your accusations, your claim to have relinquished the diamond was entirely fabricated. Until I read that contemptible submission of yours. Had I but known—” Morland leveled an icy stare at Slayde. “I’d have thrashed you before I let you hand over that diamond. But now it’s too late. Some other greedy bastard has the stone, and it will take me months to track it down.”
“You’re not lying.” Slayde said the words aloud, almost as if he needed to hear them to believe they were true. “Hell and damnation, you’re actually telling the truth.” Additional implications sank in. “Are you also going to deny taking a shot at Courtney last week? The night we were in Somerset?”
“What?” Morland countered. “Took a shot at…is that the attempted murder you were referring to?” Furiously, he shook his head. “The last I saw of that chit, she was tearing out of my home, presumably heading back to Pembourne. I never saw her again. I never knew you and she went to Somerset. And I damned well never tried to kill her.” Morland’s hands balled into fists. “Pembourne, not only are you a heartless thief, you’re also a lunatic. For months after your parents died, you hammered me with accusations—that I was a murderer, that my father was a murderer. Now, ten years later, you’ve decided to rekindle the ashes of those accusations—inspired by some sick purpose that evades me. Moreover, you’re also charging me with shooting a woman I met for but a few minutes and couldn’t give a damn about one way or the other. Well, I have no intentions of allowing you to reopen old wounds or create new ones. Your claims were demented and unfounded then; they’re demented and unfounded now. So are those of that sea captain’s daughter. The two of you can threaten me with exposure ’til the end of time. Unless you’ve manufactured nonexistent evidence to incriminate me, I have nothing to fear. Not only didn’t I try to kill her, but, for the hundredth time, I did not kill your parents.” A lethal glare. “Don’t misunderstand; I loathe the Huntleys. Murdering one of them would purge my soul and lighten my heart. But the particular one I’d have in mind would be your great-grandfather. I’d choke the location of the diamond out of him, then kill him without a shred of guilt. Unfortunately, he’s already dead. And murdering the rest of you would serve no purpose other than to vent m
y rage and condemn me to Newgate. Frankly, you’re just not worth it.”
Slayde was reeling, too overcome by what he’d just learned to address Morland’s venomous comments. Besides, they suddenly ceased to matter. Suddenly, everything ceased to matter.
Everything but Courtney.
With a gripping sensation, Slayde confronted the single most impending horror indicated by Morland’s revelations: somewhere out there was the culprit who’d truly attempted to shoot Courtney. And that culprit was waiting, plotting.
Mr. Scollard’s voice resounded through Slayde’s head.
Ruthlessness hovers at your portals…heartlessness and obsession haunt your doorstep…. Danger stalks Courtney like a predator. After today, there will be no protection. You alone can prevent the danger from seizing her….Resolution is in your hands—as is Courtney’s life. Return to Pembourne…return to Pembourne….
Everything inside Slayde went cold. God help him, he had to get to Courtney.
The phaeton couldn’t reach Pembourne quickly enough. For the dozenth time, Slayde urged the horses to go faster, nearly jostling Rayburn from his seat in the process. “Sorry,” Slayde muttered.
“Quite all right, sir.” Rayburn resituated himself. “I understand. And if it’s any consolation to you, you did the right thing by relieving me of my post. I can do you more good hunting down the real culprit than I can scrutinizing the duke’s estate. It’s quite obvious Morland isn’t involved.”
“You’re sure he never left the manor?”
“Other than yesterday morning when he descended upon Pembourne, no—not from the instant I resumed my post six days past, having delivered Lady Aurora and Miss Johnston to Pembourne. In fact, not only has the duke gone nowhere, but no one has visited him—not his solicitor, not his banker, no one. The only person to arrive at Morland all week was the local delivery boy, who has long since checked out as legitimate.”
“Couldn’t Morland have left his estate during the time you rode to Pembourne—especially if he followed you, Courtney and Aurora to my home?”
“Of course. However, I was gone from my post for but a few hours. If the duke had pursued Miss Johnston from Pembourne to Somerset before returning to his estate, I’d definitely have witnessed his return, if not his departure. No, my lord, the Duke of Morland was not the person who took a shot at Miss Johnston.”
“Then who the hell was?” Slayde growled, fingers tightening on the reins.
“Who indeed, sir.”
Glancing about, Slayde realized Pembourne was nearly upon them. “Before we arrive, I have another pressing matter to discuss with you.”
“Sir?”
“Until new evidence presents itself, there’s little point in your blindly trying to hunt down the assailant. Moreover, I have an interim assignment I want you to pursue—a delicate, extraordinarily important assignment. It must be handled quickly, discreetly, and—with the help of God—successfully. I’d originally intended to get a recommendation from Oridge; I trust he’d supply me with the name of someone competent and reliable for the job. But needless to say, I’d much rather engage your services, as I’m already familiar with the high quality of your work.”
“I’m honored and at your disposal, sir. What is this assignment?”
Slayde’s mouth set in a grim line. “I need you to find someone for me. Someone who’s been injured and is incapable—either mentally, physically, or both—of finding us. Or rather, of finding Courtney.”
Rayburn blinked. “Who?”
“Her father.”
“Captain Johnston? According to your notes, he was thrown overboard and drowned.”
“He was thrown overboard. As for drowned, I have reason to believe that he survived, that the currents swept him onto the Cornish shore. The question is, where? My information says he’s recovering in a quiet inlet. Thus, we have to locate and search every quiet inlet from here to the western tip of Cornwall. I’ll pore over charts with you, make a list of all the inlets that fit that description. First thing tomorrow, you’ll go off to explore each of them.” A scowl. “I’d handle this myself, but I dare not leave Courtney—not until we’ve determined who tried to kill her. So I’m asking you to go in my stead, to work as thoroughly and painstakingly as I would have. To defy the odds and recover Arthur Johnston.”
Rayburn gave a definitive nod. “I won’t disappoint you, my lord.”
“I know you won’t.” The phaeton passed through Pembourne’s gates. “Oh, and Rayburn? Don’t say a word of this to anyone. Especially Courtney. She’s just coming to grips with the possibility of her father’s death. And in the unlikely event that I’m wrong, that Johnston did perish in the Channel…I don’t think she could withstand the pain a second time.”
“I understand. This will remain strictly between us.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Courtney and Aurora that you’re spending the night, then pursuing other suspects. Which you are—eventually.” The phaeton rounded the drive, and Slayde brought it to a stop. Leaping to the ground, he headed for the manor, adding, “We’ll meet in my study later, to pore over those charts. Right now, I want to make sure Courtney’s all right.”
Slayde was already mounting the steps when Siebert opened the entranceway door. Assessing his master’s grim expression, he announced, “Miss Johnston and Lady Aurora are quite well, my lord. In fact, they’ve been surprisingly quiet. I believe Mr. Oridge is becoming unnerved by their silence.”
“I’m sure he is.” Slayde visibly relaxed. “We had no unexpected guests?”
“No guests at all, my lord. Other than Lady Stanwyk. And even she stayed but a half-hour. Lady Aurora was too restless for a visit.”
“Aurora—restless? Now that sounds like trouble.” Slayde veered toward the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Please have Miss Payne make up a room for Rayburn. He’ll be staying the night.”
“Of course, sir.” A frown. “Actually, I’ve scarcely seen Miss Payne all day. That’s odd.” He shrugged. “Never mind, sir. I’ll find her.” So saying, he went off in search of the housekeeper.
Slayde reached the second-floor landing in record time, then stalked down the hall. Rory’s bedchamber, Scollard had said. Very well, then that was where he’d go.
Oridge was jostling the door handle when Slayde appeared. The investigator glanced up, nearly sagging with relief when he saw his employer. “You’re back, my lord.”
Fear knotted Slayde’s gut. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sir,” Oridge assured him. “ ’Tis only that Miss Johnston and Lady Aurora have barricaded themselves inside.” An exasperated sigh. “They haven’t attempted a window escape; I’ve listened intently for any indications of that, such as unusual rustles or squeaks, sudden lulls in their chatter. None of those has occurred—yet. However, the two of them must be plotting something, because they refuse to come out.”
“Hell and damnation.” Slayde pounded on the door. “Courtney. Aurora. Open this door before I break it down.”
An instant later, a key turned and the door was flung wide. “Slayde,” Courtney said, her heart in her eyes. “Thank God…you’re all right.”
“Thank God I’m all right?” He couldn’t help it; he dragged her to him, enfolded her in his arms. “I’ve been half crazed with worry.” He pressed his lips into her crown of red-gold hair. “Why are the two of you locked up like criminals?”
Courtney tilted back her head and smiled up at him. “We needed a few more minutes to finalize our plan. And Mr. Oridge refused to extend our agreed-upon allotment of time by even a quarter hour. So we took the necessary steps to protect our interests.”
“What allotment of time? What plan?”
“First tell me Morland didn’t hurt you.”
“He didn’t hurt me. I, however, punched him.”
“Then he revealed something?”
“At that particular instant? Only that he believes Aurora’s life is worth sacrificing in order to retain possession of th
e diamond.”
Aurora rose, wide-eyed. “You struck Morland—for me?”
A hint of softness. “You are my sister, you know.”
“I’m beginning to realize that,” she replied with an equal measure of softness.
“Slayde,” Courtney pressed. “Did you learn anything?”
“Too much and not enough.” Slayde eased Courtney inside the bedchamber, gesturing for Oridge to join them. “The four of us have a great deal to discuss.” The moment the door shut behind them, Slayde turned to his investigator. “Did any of the servants behave oddly?”
“Not in the least. I’ve been posted outside Lady Aurora’s bedchamber all afternoon, scanning the list and studying the staff. Other than a few maids and footmen who expressed sympathy that I’d been given the impossible task of thwarting Lady Aurora’s escape efforts, no one’s so much as spoken to me. They’ve performed their jobs in what I would call a customary fashion. Oh, I did have the opportunity to speak with Mr. Lexley. He’s a most gracious fellow, but with no additional details to provide us.”
“Then we’re right back where we started, damn it.” Slayde’s arms tightened about Courtney. “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he informed her. “Not for a moment. So give up any notion of locking doors unless I’m behind them with you.”
“Slayde, what is it?” Anxiously, Courtney studied Slayde’s taut expression. “What’s upset you so?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Morland’s innocent,” he stated flatly. “He’s not the one who hired Armon. He doesn’t have the diamond. And he didn’t take a shot at you the other day.”
Aurora emitted a shocked gasp.
“And your parents?” Courtney sounded more concerned than she did stunned. “Is he innocent of their murders as well?”
“According to him, yes. He vehemently denied any involvement in their killings. Of course, he’s said that a dozen times before. We have yet to find proof of his innocence. There’s every possibility that he’s lying.”