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“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?”
