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“But it didn’t work that way. Armon underestimated his partner’s intelligence—or perhaps his sobriety. The bastard caught up with him, confiscated the jewel, and killed him,”
“Which brings up another question. Once Armon had the jewel, why did he remain in England? Surely he realized he was a walking target. Why didn’t he flee the country?”
“He probably intended to—after collecting his money. Remember, Courtney, the stone was worth a fortune. I’m sure Armon preferred pound notes to a huge, cumbersome jewel.”
“So he was en route to his monetary connection when he was overtaken—and murdered.” She inclined her head. “Underestimated ‘his sobriety,’ you said. We’re back to the Duke of Morland again.”
“He had the motive and the opportunity. Remember, he’s no longer in seclusion. These past few months, he’s made a miraculous and convenient re-emergence into the business world.”
“We could easily discern if he traveled to London last week.”
“We could and we will. But that alone isn’t enough. We must determi
ne where he was when Armon—” Slayde broke off, realization darting across his face. “Armon was murdered either early yesterday morning or late the night before—in Dartmouth, which is a two- to three-hour carriage ride from Morland. I arrived at Morland Manor late yesterday morning. The duke returned to his estate immediately thereafter. When I asked where he’d been, he refused to answer. I know he wasn’t in the village; I’d have seen him there when I was questioning the merchants. So where was he?” A fierce glint lit his eyes. “And doing what—killing his accomplice?”
“Slayde.” Courtney struggled to remain calm. “Your theory is plausible. But we haven’t a shred of evidence.”
“Then we’ll have to find some.” Slayde averted his head, staring icily across the room. “If Morland is the man Armon worked for, then he’s indirectly responsible for your father’s death and the fate of your ship.”
“I know.” Courtney swallowed, hard. “Slayde, what about the Fortune, Armon’s ship? Did Mr. Rainer mention if Bow Street was pursuing it?”
Slayde’s laugh was harsh. “He didn’t need to mention it. They’re not. Bow Street is terrified of the Huntleys. You saw how fast Rainer bolted—he’s afraid to so much as cross my threshold. No, Courtney. Any further investigating, we’ll have to do on our own.”
“Then we shall.” Courtney sat bolt upright, battling the surge of dizziness that immediately claimed her. “We’ll begin by riding to Dartmouth. From there, we’ll sail out in search of Armon’s ship. Doubtless, it’s heading as far and fast from English waters as possible. I suspect the crew fled long before Armon’s body was discovered. They must have waited in a nearby cove for his return, and when hours passed without a sign of their captain, they probably panicked and set sail. They couldn’t have traveled more than fifty or sixty miles. We’ll find them.” She bolted to her feet. “We must find them. Some of Papa’s crewmen might still be—” Abruptly, she swayed, clutching the table for support.
“Courtney.” Slayde leapt up and caught her elbows, easing her back to the sofa. “As we’ve discussed, you’re in no condition to traverse the seas. Further, we haven’t a clue in what direction the Fortune is traveling. To go after it would be to waste precious time, time that could be spent gathering evidence and proving Morland’s guilt—or unearthing whoever really is guilty. Think about it. I agree with you that the Fortune must be found. But ’twould be far easier for the investigative firm I’ve hired to send an experienced navigator after it, while you and I delve into the crucial matter of unmasking Armon’s accomplice.”
Fists knotting in the folds of her gown, Courtney willed away the damnable weakness that thwarted her every move. “I hate this,” she bit out.
“I know. Take deep breaths and sit quietly. The lightheadedness will subside.”
A minute later, she nodded. “I’m better now.” Soberly, her gaze met Slayde’s. “I’ll agree to your suggestion, but only if this delving includes my efforts as well as yours.”
He scowled. “You’ve been out of bed for an hour and you’re barely able to stand. Resting on a carriage ride to London was one thing. Dashing about Devonshire doing what I intend—hunting down unsavory jewel contacts and interrogating any other lowlifes who might have known Armon and who might lead us to his accomplice—is quite another.”
“I see your point.” Courtney chewed her lip. “Very well,” she conceded. “I’ll remain at Pembourne, spend the day with Aurora—perhaps even find out who knew of her plans to go to London.” A pause, as Courtney fought to still the pounding in her head. “You do what you just described: probe the wharf near Dartmouth to learn who Armon’s associates were, hire an investigator to go after the Fortune.” Her chin set stubbornly. “But before that investigator begins his search, bring him to Pembourne. I want to talk with him. He’ll need the facts I can supply: descriptions of the Fortune’s crewmen who accompanied Armon onto the Isobel, snatches of conversation I overheard, and most importantly, names and descriptions of Papa’s crew, in case any of them were taken prisoner and are still alive. None of this should delay your investigator’s search by any considerable amount of time. I’d be willing to wager a thousand pounds—if I had it—that as a result of their successful retreat, Armon’s crew has been lulled into a false sense of security and has, by now, slowed their ship’s frantic pace, reasonably convinced no one is pursuing them. Which no one was. Until now. So—” Courtney concluded, hearing her own voice waver, a clear warning that her energy was rapidly diminishing—“is my plan acceptable?”
Slayde studied her, brow furrowed. “The idea seems sound enough. As you pointed out, the Fortune can’t have ventured far. One extra day won’t give them much more of an advantage, especially if we counter that advantage by spending the time gathering information to hasten our search. Moreover, your idea appeals to me for another reason. The knowledge that my investigator will accompany me home tonight should serve to keep you at Pembourne—you and Aurora.”
“Aurora? How does she factor into this?”
“Aurora factors into anything that involves trouble,” Slayde retorted dryly. “She thrives on adventure, or hadn’t you noticed the way she glows when she’s relaying one of Mr. Scollard’s tales? She accepts every word as absolute truth—and not only those in his stories. She believes in every farfetched legend she gets wind of, including the one surrounding that wretched black diamond. Although, in that case, I must admit I was relieved as hell to discover she feared the jewel and its curse, else she probably would have escaped from Pembourne and combed all of England to find the bloody stone.”
“Probably,” Courtney concurred, recalling the sparkle in Aurora’s eyes when she’d recounted one of Mr. Scollard’s yarns.
“And now?” Slayde continued. “With a mystery such as the one you and I are embarking upon? Right here in her own home? ’Twould awaken every reckless impulse she possesses.” He cast a knowing look out the window. “By now, she’s undoubtedly on her way home from the lighthouse—where she’s been since dawn—eager and ready, having noted Bow Street’s carriage round our drive. Unfortunately, Rainer’s visit cannot be kept secret from her; the lighthouse provides a superb view of Pembourne. You can see the entire estate from its tower.”
Courtney frowned, an unwelcome possibility inserting itself in her mind. “If you’re asking me to lie to Aurora about the reason for Mr. Rainer’s visit, I won’t. ’Tis my intention to earn your sister’s friendship. In order for that to happen, there must be honesty between us. I know no other way. Deceit has no place in a caring relationship.”
An odd expression crossed Slayde’s face. “No, it doesn’t. Not unless there’s just cause to employ it. Which in this case, there is not.” Roughly, he cleared his throat. “I wasn’t suggesting you lie to Aurora. I only meant to point out that once she learns why Bow Street was here, she’ll be ready to plunge right into what she’ll view as a grand adventure. You’ll need to pin her down to keep her from following my carriage to Dartmouth. And trust me, pinning Aurora down is like trying to catch a firefly. Even I know that.”
Even you? Courtney wanted to blurt out. As her brother, it should be especially you. Wisely, she refrained from speaking her opinion aloud. It was too premature, too intrusive. But someday—soon, if she had her way—Slayde would allow Aurora into his heart.
Storing away that inspiring possibility, Courtney replied, “Fear not, my lord. I’ll pique Aurora’s interest by telling her about the investigator’s imminent visit. In the interim, I promise to keep her occupied.”
Occupied. Now that spawned another interesting notion, one that sent Courtney’s thoughts spinning in an entirely different direction. Hadn’t she, mere minutes ago, determined that she must put her past to rest? Well, why not start today? With a bit of help, she could seek some answers and keep Aurora amused at the same time.
If only she could combat this intolerable weakness long enough to do so.
