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“Coming from you, I’ll consider that the highest of compliments. Perhaps Mr. Scollard did mean to imply that my wits would be called upon as well.” A shadow crossed Slayde’s face. “Miss Payne has been with my family for decades. ’Tis hard to believe she’s capable of the kind of crimes we’re addressing.”

“Theft and murder are quite different from one another, Slayde,” Courtney reminded him. “All we know for sure is that Miss Payne was involved in the robbery. There’s no indication that she meant for your parents to die, much less that she helped kill them.”

“But they did die,” Slayde said grimly. “And she didn’t exactly come forward and identify Armon as their killer, nor admit her own part in the theft that lead to their murders. Worse, she’s stayed on at Pembourne as a trusted employee, when she should be rotting in Newgate.”

“I’ve not found Miss Payne to be particularly warm or endearing,” Courtney replied. “However, I don’t think she’s ruthless, either. My guess is that whoever she’s working for ensured her silence—perhaps with Armon’s help. They probably threatened her position, her health, even her life if she said a word, or refused to help them in future endeavors.”

“Such as seizing your father’s ship in order to extort the black diamond.”

A pained nod. “And afterward, when I came to Pembourne, she was doubtless instructed to keep an eye on me, see if I told you anything damning about Armon, anything that would implicate them. It would certainly explain why she spent so much time hovering about during my recovery. I never understood her concern, given that nurturing is hardly her way.”

“It also explains why she was in your room last night. Most likely, she was searching for something that would tell her how much information you’d gained during our excursion to London.”

“That makes sense. No one would think to question a housekeeper’s presence in someone’s sleeping quarters—” Courtney broke off. “That explains Aurora’s note!”

“Which note?”

“The one she left you when she went to London. Remember? She found it lodged behind her headboard and assumed it had dropped there on its own. Well, it hadn’t. It was removed, then replaced on the day Aurora returned. Miss Payne must have known of Aurora’s intentions to travel to London and used it to her employer’s advantage. With the absence of Aurora’s written explanation, you had no reason to doubt the legitimacy of the ransom notes and the ‘fact’ that Aurora had indeed been kidnapped. Thus, the ruse was successful, with Miss Payne knowing all the while that Aurora was quite safe, frolicking about London with Elinore.”

“That conniving…” Slayde drew a slow, inward breath. “Forgive me, Courtney, but I can’t be as charitable as you.”

“I’m not charitable. Nor do I expect you to be. Because of Miss Payne’s involvement, my father is gone. As are your parents.” Courtney clasped her hands together to still their trembling. “But Miss Payne did not act alone. Nor did she act solely with Armon, who’s already paid with his life. She acted upon the orders of another. And it’s that person we want to expose, that cold-hearted animal we want to see punished. We can’t let our enmity cloud our reason.”

Slayde’s fingers closed over hers. “Are you preaching logic and level-headedness to me, Miss Johnston?” he teased gently.

His loving quip found its mark, and Courtney managed a faint smile. “It appears I am, Lord Pembourne.”

“Astounding.” He brought her palm to his lips. “It seems we’ve encountered yet another miracle together.”

Slayde checked the hallway of the servants’ quarters for the third time before beckoning Courtney forward. “Now,” he hissed.

They slipped into Miss Payne’s room, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“The desk?” Slayde questioned.

“No,” she countered. “The wardrobe drawers. You go through those on the left, and I those on the right.”

Courtney crossed over, dropping to her knees and pulling open the first drawer.

“Why the wardrobe?” Slayde asked, squatting down beside her. “I’d assume any written material would be in her desk.”

“Not if it’s of a personal nature.” Courtney scanned the contents, then carefully rearranged them before sliding the drawer shut, tugging open the one beneath it. “Women have a tendency to hide private things in private spots—spots no one would be apt to invade. Which is precisely why we’re invading them.” She shook her head, shutting the bottom drawer. “There’s nothing here.”

“Nor here,” Slayde concurred, completing his task. He surveyed the sparse furnishings. “Is the bureau personal enough?”

Courtney grinned. “Yes. I’ll search it. Why don’t you look through the nightstand.”

A wary glance at the closed bedchamber door. “Ten minutes more. Then we leave.”

“But Slayde—”

“You’re the one who told me to employ reason. Well, I’m employing it. If Miss Payne should discover us, our entire plan to get to her employer will be dashed. Therefore, if we find evidence, splendid. If not, we’ll rely upon her to lead us where we need to go. Either way, we’re leaving this bedchamber in ten minutes.”

A reluctant nod. “Very well.” Courtney scooted over to the bureau, gauging the drawer that would hold underclothes. She yanked that one open, lifting a pile of prim nightgowns out of the way and groping behind them.

Her fingers brushed something smooth and flat.

“Slayde,” she said in an urgent whisper. He stalked over just in time to see her remove what was clearly a journal of sorts. “The entries look to be sporadic,” Courtney noted, skimming the pages. “But they begin in 1796 and span the entirety of Miss Payne’s employment here at Pembourne. Look—” Smoothing the page for closer perusal, Courtney indicated the date at the top: 5 January, 1807. “ ’Tis her first entry of the year your parents were killed.”

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