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Slayde studied Courtney’s frightened face, torn between his innate compulsion to protect her, which urged him to lie in order to assuage her fears, and his love for her, which commanded that he speak the truth. In the end, there was no choice. “Yes. I do.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones. “But I also believe that scoundrel’s downfall is imminent, thanks to the plan you and Aurora conjured up.” A sudden memory flashed through Slayde’s mind, spawning a glimmer of comprehension. “What’s more, Mr. Scollard believes the same.”
“He told you that?”
“Indirectly. What he said was that wits, not pistols, would be my true weapon.” A discerning grin. “What he failed to mention was that the wits involved would be yours.”
Over a hundred servants crowded Pembourne’s ballroom, the only room large enough to hold so vast a number of people. Most of them shifted nervously, murmuring among themselves about the possible reasons for Lord Pembourne’s request that they gather here after breakfast.
Undetected, Slayde surveyed the room from the hallway. “Do you understand what I expect of you?” he muttered to Cutterton.
“Of course, sir,” Cutterton said quietly. “Mathers and I will support your story. We’ll concur that we found the note yesterday, and advised you to take instantaneous action. As for our immediate responsibility, we’ll distribute the writing materials and collect the handwriting samples—after we’ve publicly advised Miss Johnston that her participation in this task is mandatory.”
“Excellent.” Slayde shot Cutterton a grateful look. “I know you haven’t a clue why I’m doing this. I hope I’ll be able to fill you in soon. In the interim, I appreciate your cooperation.”
“That’s my job, sir.” Cutterton’s gaze flickered to the left and he gave a terse nod. “Mathers is here with the paper and writing implements.”
“Good. Then let’s proceed.” Slayde turned to Courtney, who was standing beside him, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Come, love,” he said softly, extending his hand. “We have an announcement to make.”
“Yes, my lord.” She placed her hand in his. “Indeed we do.”
A hush fell over the group as their master entered, Miss Johnston by his side.
Courtney looked from one face to the other, pained by the apprehension she saw reflected there. Many of these people had cared for her, nursed her back to health, and, in the process, become like family to her—especially Siebert and Matilda, who stood near the front, their worried gazes softening with affection as they met hers. For their sakes—for all their sakes—she prayed this nightmare would soon end.
As Slayde cleared his throat to speak, Courtney’s eyes met Aurora’s, and she smiled at the vivid excitement revealed in the turquoise depths. Not an ounce of fear, she noted. Not her Aurora. Only joy at Slayde’s and her impending marriage, and exhilaration at what Aurora was convinced was the greatest and soon-to-be most successful scheme of all time.
“First, let me thank you all for taking time away from your duties,” Slayde began. His brows drew together as he sought just the right words to convey his announcement. “Many of you have been with my family for years, yet doubtless view me not as a resident of Pembourne, but as an infrequent and short-term visitor. ’Tis no secret why. I’ve spent little of my life within these walls—especially since my parents were killed a decade ago, after which Pembourne became only a hollow chasm of pain and anguish. Thus, it’s been anything but a home—not for me or, I suspect, for many of you.” A meaningful glance at Aurora. “Certainly not for my sister, who spends half her life trying to flee from it.”
A few of the servants coughed uneasily.
“Last month, a young woman came into our lives who, in a very short time, has managed to accomplish what I could not: she’s made Pembourne feel like a home and its occupants like a family.” His fingers tightened around Courtney’s. “We all owe Miss Johnston an incredible debt—most especially, I.
“In the true spirit of the family she’s helped to create, I’ve summoned you all here this morning to share some wonderful news. Pembourne’s transformation, and mine, are destined to endure, thanks to the extraordinary gift Miss Johnston has agreed to bestow upon me—that being her hand in marriage.” A murmur went up from the crowd, and Slayde turned to Courtney, his expression tender. “I’m proud to announce that Miss Courtney Johnston will soon become Mrs. Slayde Huntley, the Countess of Pembourne…my wife.”
Unanimous, enthusiastic applause erupted.
Courtney blinked, staring from one beaming face to the other, tears stinging her eyes at the unexpectedly fervent response. She’d anticipated polite approval, in some cases pleasure, but exuberance such as this? It was humbling.
“Thank you,” she managed, her voice lost in the din.
Aurora rushed forward, embracing both her brother and future sister-in-law, her own eyes damp.
“Why are you crying?” Courtney laughed through her tears. “You already knew.”
“So did you,” Aurora retorted. “Yet you’re crying.”
“Please wait,” Slayde called out loudly, holding up his palm. “Unfortunately, there is another, more sobering matter I need to address before any celebrating takes place.”
The clapping quieted, then ceased, apprehension once again swelling to fill the room.
“As I just mentioned, Lady Aurora is notorious for her attempts to escape Pembourne.”
“Oh, but Slayde,” Aurora inserted on cue, “all that will change now that Courtney’s—”
“Nevertheless,” he interrupted, “it’s come to my attention that, over the past few days, someone at Pembourne has been assisting her in her attempts to outwit the guards.” Slayde clasped his hands behind his back, his bold silver-gray stare sweeping the room. “This is not mere speculation. I have proof of my claim. What I now ask is for the guilty party to step forward and admit what he or she has done. If that party complies, he or she will be firmly dealt with, but not dismissed. Otherwise…” Slayde left the rest of his sentence hanging. Jaw set, he waited.
Seconds ticked by.
“No one is willing to claim responsibility for this?” he pressed.
