Legacy of the Diamond

  Hands clasped behind him, Slayde regarded Aurora with the brooding, self-contained intensity she recognized all too well. “Two of the ransom notes contained locks of what I presumed to be your hair. I believed the letters were valid. I complied with the senders terms.”

  “What terms?”

  “An exchange—the black diamond for you.”

  Undiluted shock registered on Aurora’s face. “So you did have the diamond. All these years—”

  “Not all these years,” Slayde interrupted. A heartbeat of a pause. “It was only recently that the stone came into my possession.”

  “I see. How did it come into your possession? Did you find it?”

  “No. It was presented to me.”

  “By whom?”

  “That’s irrelevant. The point is, I turned it over to a man I believed was holding you prisoner, a man who obviously went to a great deal of trouble to make me believe he was holding you prisoner,” Slayde amended. Slowly, he shook his head. “There’s more here than meets the eye.”

  “I don’t care,” Aurora declared with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m thrilled the diamond is gone. At last we’ll be rid of that horrible curse.”

  A dark scowl. “There is no curse, Aurora. There’s only the greed of those who seek the stone, and whatever accompanies its possession. Wealth, acclaim…or vengeance.”

  Aurora sighed deeply. “You still think Lawrence Bencroft is involved. Slayde, he’s too drunk to contrive some grand scheme to avenge his family’s downfall. Is it so difficult for you to accept the possibility that the pirate who summoned you acted alone?”

  “If he did, he’s remarkably clever and thorough. Not to mention quick-thinking. He’d have to have learned about your excursion to London immediately, leapt at the chance to feign a kidnapping, and found a perfect replica for you all within a day. Quite a feat, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I was hardly invisible. Hundreds of people saw me in London. This pirate could have been in or about Town, caught a glimpse of me, and dispatched a missive straightaway.” A flicker of bewilderment flashed in Aurora’s eyes. “What replica?”

  “The young woman I believed to be you when I relinquished the stone. The woman who lost her father, her home, and very nearly her life. The woman who’s down the hall now, recovering from extensive injuries and severe shock. The woman who, from a distance, looks much like you and from whom that filthy pirate clearly acquired the locks of hair he sent me. That replica.”

  Aurora sank down on the bed. “You’d better explain.” She listened, eyes widening as Slayde relayed the details of what had occurred two nights past. “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Courtney Johnston. Her father captained the vessel that was overtaken by that blasted pirate. He was murdered at the same time that his daughter was taken prisoner. That’s all I know. Miss Johnston is awake for only short periods of time. And when she is, she’s still very weak, in a great deal of pain, and—much of the time—incoherent.”

  “And all alone,” Aurora murmured. “God knows, I understand how that feels.” Swallowing, she asked, “How old is she?”

  “About your age, I should say.”

  “Does she really resemble me?”

  “Yes…and no.” Slayde studied his sister, trying to view her as a woman and not as the child he’d become responsible for ten years past. “You have the same coloring—other than your eyes—and similar builds. Otherwise, I see little resemblance.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” was the curt reply. “She’s swathed in bandages and enveloped by bedcovers.”

  “How long will she be staying at Pembourne?”

  “That depends on how quickly she heals.” Slayde paused, frowning. “A better question is, where will she go afterward?”

  Silence hung heavily in the room.

  “She needn’t go anywhere,” Aurora put in at last. “In fact, I’d be relieved if she’d stay as long as possible. With you perpetually away, I’m virtually alone, with the exception of the army of servants you’ve hired to keep vigil over me. A companion would be delightful.”

  Slayde’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully on his sister. “I realize you loathe your isolation. I always assumed it was because being confined to Pembourne made it impossible for you to gallivant beyond your lighthouse or get into some other form of mischief. In truth, I never considered the fact that you might be lonely.”

  “There’s quite a lot you never considered.” A shrug. “You’re a loner, Slayde. As a result, you expect the rest of the world to follow suit. Well, not all of us are able to exist in utter solitude.”

  “There isn’t always a choice.”

  “Maybe, in my case, we’ve just found one.”

  “You don’t know that Miss Johnston will choose to remain at Pembourne. She’s not the type to accept charity. I sense a great deal of pride beneath that broken exterior.”

  “You sense a great deal for a man who spends little or no time around others.”

  Again, silence.

  “Does Miss Johnston understand all that’s happened?” Aurora inquired.

  “Unfortunately, yes. And she’s devastated by it.”

  “I’m sure she is.” Aurora traced the intricate pattern of the bedcovers with her forefinger. “Slayde—may I at least speak with her? I realize I was very young when Mama and Papa died. Still, perhaps there’s something I could say. Something that would ease her pain—even a bit.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “Perhaps so. But not for several hours. She drifted off a minute before Matilda announced your arrival, and she’ll probably sleep for some time now, thanks to the laudanum Dr. Gilbert left. When she awakens, I’ll introduce you.”

  “Excellent.” Aurora rose. “Now you may lecture me on my outrageous behavior and the heinous outcome that could have resulted from my joining Elinore on her trip to London.”

  “Would it do any good?”

  “Probably not.”

  Slayde shook his head. “Maybe asking Miss Johnston to stay is a good idea at that, if only to divert your attention away from the outside world and all its allure.”

  “Or to enlighten me about it,” Aurora proposed with a grin.

  “Don’t push me, Aurora. I’m not feeling very tolerant right now.” Slayde glanced restlessly toward the bedchamber door. “I have things to resolve before Miss Johnston awakens.”

  “Then go resolve them.”

  Slayde hesitated, feeling that all-too-familiar discomfort that accompanied his infrequent parental interaction with his sister. “Do you require anything?”

  “No. But should that situation change, I’m perfectly capable of getting what I need. Remember, Slayde, while you’re abroad for months at a time—doing whatever it is you do—I’m fending for myself. I hardly require an overseer.”

  “As your reckless little excursion to Town just proved,” was the dry retort.

  Aurora rolled her eyes. “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me.” Slayde’s jaw tightened in flagrant warning. “The subject is closed. You are not to leave Pembourne without permission again. Is that understood?”

  Pressing her lips together, Aurora gave a tight, though rebellious nod.

  “Good.” With that, Slayde dismissed the issue, striding across the bedchamber and yanking open the door. “I’ll summon you when Miss Johnston awakens. After I’ve had an opportunity to prepare her for you.”

  It was midafternoon when Courtney stirred. She felt less disoriented this time, recalling her whereabouts almost immediately—as well as the incidents that had preceded them. The ache in her head had subsided somewhat, as had that in her ribs—whether from the lingering effects of the laudanum or the onset of the natural healing process, she wasn’t certain.

  She wished the wounds of her heart would be as easy to heal.

  “How are you feeling, Miss Johnston?”

  It was the housekeeper, Miss Payne, who entered, carrying a tray of tea and toast. br />
  “Better,” Courtney replied, her voice an unfamiliar wisp of sound.

  “The slash above your eye is healing nicely. Matilda changed the bandage while you slept. She also said you’re weak as a newborn babe. And she’s right,” Miss Payne assessed, laying out the refreshment with a purposeful air. “But it’s no wonder. You’ve eaten nothing for days and drunk only as much as your laudanum required. Well, we’re about to change that.” So saying, she poured a cup of tea, then placed it on the tray next to Courtney’s bedside. “Shall I help you sit up?”

  “Thank you very much.” Gratefully, Courtney accepted the assistance, wincing at the sharp pain in her ribs that accompanied her movements.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she was sitting half upright, two pillows propped behind her back.

  “Is that comfortable?” Miss Payne inquired.

  “Yes, very.”

  “Good. Now it’s time to regain your strength.”

  It was more an order than a statement, and Courtney almost found herself smiling. Clearly, Miss Payne was not as soft-hearted as Matilda and had therefore been chosen to administer her meal. Well, Courtney would try not to disappoint her.

  “It looks delicious.” She took the proffered teacup and drank, stunned to find she was nearly parched with thirst. Twice, Miss Payne refilled the cup, and twice more, Courtney drank. Next, she attempted the toast, nibbling at the edges before taking her first normal bite.

  Her insides gnawed their approval.

  “Slowly,” the housekeeper cautioned. “Your stomach has been empty for days. Give your body time to accept the food.” Patiently, she waited while Courtney alternately ate and rested until, a quarter hour later, both slices of toast were gone. “Excellent.” Miss Payne rose. “Your color has already improved.”

  “Indeed it has.”

  Lord Pembourne hovered in the doorway, watching as his houseguest licked the final crumbs from her lips. “May I come in?” he inquired politely.

  “Of course.” For some bizarre reason, Courtney felt a surge of nervousness, doubtless a reaction to receiving a man in her bedchamber. Despite the earl’s earlier visits, this was the first time she’d been alert enough to truly consider her surroundings. And, for all her years at sea, no one but her father had ever crossed her cabin’s threshold, at least not while she was within.

  The earl seemed to sense her discomfort, for he approached stiffly, halting a respectful distance from the foot of her bed.

  Simultaneously, Miss Payne gathered up the tray. “Miss Johnston ate her entire meal.”

  “So I see.” Lord Pembourne’s silver-gray eyes appraised the empty plates. “And without a drop of fortifying brandy. I’m relieved.”

  Recalling snatches of her earlier rambling, Courtney flushed.

  “As for this evening’s meal, I’ll advise Cook to prepare some broth,” Miss Payne was muttering to herself, “and perhaps a few biscuits. Yes, that should go down well.” She gave the earl a quizzical look. “Will you be remaining at Pembourne for any length of time, my lord? If so, I’ll need to order additional supplies and alert the staff to your extended stay.”

  A heartbeat of a pause. “I’m not certain. I’ll advise you once my plans are made. For now, assume I’ll be here.”

  “Very good, my lord.” She swept off.

  Courtney rubbed the sheet between her fingers, studying the earl’s chiseled features and trying to shake off her uncustomary self-consciousness. “Are you ofttimes away from home?”

  “Yes, frequently.”

  “For great lengths of time?”

  His dark brows rose. “As a matter of fact, yes. My businesses are extensive and take me all over the world: India, the Colonies, Europe.”

  “How unfortunate.”

  He blinked. “Unfortunate? Why?”

  “Because it must be very difficult—and very lonely—for you.”

  “Why do you assume that?”

  Now it was Courtney’s turn to look perplexed. “You did mention you had a sister, did you not? Before I began babbling about my affection for brandy, that is.”

  His lips twitched. “Yes, I did.”

  “Then you must miss her dreadfully when you’re away. Unless, of course, you take her with you. Do you?”

  “Hardly. Aurora stays at Pembourne, where she’s safe and carefully watched—except on those few occasions when she’s clever enough, and determined enough, to elude my staff.”

  Courtney frowned. “I didn’t realize your sister was a child. When you spoke of my resemblance to her—well, I was under the obvious misconception that she was a woman.”

  “She is.” Lord Pembourne’s eyes turned wintry gray. “But, as my family history will bear out, maturity does not preclude the need for safeguarding. The disaster you just survived is tangible proof of that. Had that pirate not intended to pass you off as Aurora, none of the past days’ horrors would have occurred.”

  Courtney swallowed, her anguish resurging from its private niche.

  “I’m sorry.” The earl’s apology was immediate, regret slashing his handsome face. “That was a cruel and thoughtless statement to make. Forgive me. The last thing I intended was to upset you.”

  “You needn’t apologize.” Courtney blinked back tears, trying to steady her quavering voice. “It matters not whether we give voice to the words; Papa’s death haunts me every moment, awake or asleep. Again and again, I see his face, hear his scream, feel his fear. Lord Pembourne…” Her chin came up. “I have a proposition for you. If you’ll give me a few days to mend, I’ll help you find your sister. I know the waters of the Channel as well as any sailor. I can guide you to every hidden nook, every deserted island—anywhere you wish to go. Whoever has Lady Aurora, we’ll unearth him. In exchange, I ask only that once your sister is safely restored, you loan me a sailing vessel. I’ll return it—intact—the instant I’m able. I’d purchase it outright, but as you know, I have no money.”

  “Loan you a vessel,” the earl repeated quietly. “So you can seek out the pirate who killed your father and run a sword through his belly.”

  Courtney’s jaw dropped.

  “I understand what you’re feeling.” Lord Pembourne continued, addressing her obvious astonishment. “Only too well, in fact. I’ve experienced your sense of rage firsthand. But trust me; what you’re planning won’t erase what’s happened. Nor will it ease the agony of losing your father.”

  “I don’t care.” This time the tears spilled forth of their own volition. “I’m going to find that rogue, find him and kill him. And then I’m going to travel from one ocean to the next until I recover Papa’s body. He deserves a proper burial. On that grassy hill in Somerset beside Mama. Where they can be together. Oh, God…” Courtney dropped her face into her hands. “Why couldn’t I have died with him?”

  The bed sagged as Lord Pembourne sat down beside her and gathered her against him with none of the hesitation that had accompanied his previous gesture of comfort. “Because you weren’t meant to die,” he murmured, gently stroking her hair, “although I know how little solace that affords you right now.”

  “If I’m meant to live, it can only be to avenge Papa’s death.”

  “Miss Johnston—Courtney—listen to me.” The earl spoke softly, his breath brushing the bandage spanning her brow. “You’re badly hurt. It will be a week before you’ve healed enough to stroll the grounds, much less traverse the English Channel. Also, as I just said, vengeance is not nearly as sweet as it seems.” He drew a sharp breath, and Courtney had the strange feeling it was not merely she he was trying to convince. “Now that I’ve said all that, I offer you this promise: we’ll find your father’s killer, not only for your sake, but for mine.”

  Courtney leaned back, gazing up at him through watery eyes. “For your sake?”

  “Yes. Whoever that murdering pirate was, he did not work alone. I’m certain of it. And whoever helped him devise his plot did it for more than just the black diamond.”

  ??
?You’re referring to the reasons behind your sister’s kidnapping.”

  “That’s the puzzle here. There was no kidnapping.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Earlier today, mere minutes after you drifted off, Aurora strolled through Pembourne’s entranceway doors. She’s as intact as I. Evidently, boredom compelled her to take a jaunt to London in order to experience a taste of the Season.”

  Courtney blinked. “I see. No, actually I don’t see.”

  A faint smile touched the earl’s lips. “Nor do I. However, perhaps once you’ve met my sister, you will. Aurora is not what one would call a complacent young lady.”

  “But if she went willingly to London, why were you receiving ransom notes?”

  “My question exactly. Further, how could a single person—namely, the pirate who killed your father—have had ample time to observe and recognize Aurora, send the appropriate letters to Pembourne, then board a ship, sail forth until he reached yours, overtake it, and hold your crew captive for several days?”

  “It isn’t possible.” Courtney shook her head. “The Isobel was en route to the Colonies, three days out of port, when he made his attack. That means he had to be sailing at least that long, even if he knew our exact location and followed us. Not to mention the time it would take him to conceal his own vessel and row out to the Isobel under cover of darkness.”

  “And why would he be keeping track of your ship’s whereabouts, much less following you? Even if he already knew of your existence and of your resemblance to Aurora—a farfetched enough idea, given that Aurora doesn’t appear in public—he’d have no cause to act until he spied Aurora in London and realized she was vulnerable. And that’s assuming he’d already devised his plan and was simply waiting for a chance to enact it.”

  “I’m still lost,” Courtney murmured. “If you’re right, if that pirate was working with someone, how would that someone have known of Lady Aurora’s intentions to leave Pembourne and travel to London? Clearly, her decision to slip away was impulsive.”