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“Oh, forgive me, Siebert,” she apologized at once. “ ’Tis just that I’m in a frightful hurry.”
“Of course you are, m’lady.” With a resigned sigh, Siebert recovered his balance and his dignity.
“Where is Courtney? Is she awake? Abed? At breakfast? She hasn’t begun her meeting with Mr. Oridge yet, has she?”
“No, m’lady, she has not. Miss Johnston is taking breakfast in her bedchamber in order to conserve strength for her conversation with Mr. Oridge.”
“I see. Thank you.” Lifting her skirts, Aurora fairly flew up the stairs, rapping soundly on Courtney’s door. “Courtney? May I come in?” she asked, pressing the latch and stepping inside.
Seated at the table by the window, Courtney had her head bowed over an object clutched in her hands. Looking up, she gave Aurora a tolerant smile. “It appears you’re already in.”
“I’m sorry.” Aurora glanced from the tears on Courtney’s lashes to the timepiece in her grasp. “I shouldn’t have burst in like an unruly child. ’Twas very rude of me. I’ll come back later.”
“No, please stay.” Courtney beckoned to her. “I’d welcome the company, truly.”
“If you’re sure.” Aurora hesitated, torn between compassion and eagerness.
“I’m sure.”
“Good.” That settled, Aurora shut the door and came to sit beside Courtney. “You were thinking of your father.”
“Yes.” Courtney stroked the timepiece. “I was wishing he were here to advise me. I’m too much a novice, I’m afraid.”
“A novice? At what? Perhaps I can help.”
“No, somehow I don’t think you’re in a much better position than I to offer advice. Not in this area, that is.”
“You might be surprised. Try me.”
Silence.
“Slayde,” Aurora pronounced. She grinned at Courtney’s surprised expression. “Don’t look so shocked. I may be, as you so aptly put it, ‘a novice’ at matters of the heart, but one needn’t touch a flame in order to know it burns. Besides, I saw my brother as he prepared to leave Pembourne. ’Twas a first, to say the least.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he would have cheerfully run me down, that’s how out of sorts he was. In fact, he was downright irrational. And, trust me, Courtney, Slayde is never, never irrational. Intense, yes. Detached, definitely. But irrational? No. He simmers beneath the surface, churns with emotions he’d never permit himself to express. But outwardly, he remains composed—even when I know he’d like nothing better than to thrash me. He simply doesn’t do things like explode or lose control—until now.” Aurora’s grin widened. “In my assessment, only two instigators could have provoked my brother into losing his unshakable control: Lawrence Bencroft or you. Bearing that in mind, I came to your chambers, only to find you misty-eyed and upset. If I add the two incidents together, it doesn’t take a genius to guess which of the two instigators it was.”
“I suppose not.”
“Did the two of you argue?” Aurora pressed.
“Not really, no. An argument would have been welcome compared to the discussion we had.”
“What kind of discussion?” Seeing Courtney shift uncomfortably in her chair, Aurora added, “I realize I’m prying. But I can’t very well help you overcome the obstacles if I don’t know what those obstacles are.”
Courtney sighed, laying her father’s timepiece on the table. “The only obstacle I see is also the most difficult to surmount: Slayde himself.”
“Are you in love with him?”
A faint smile. “Didn’t you already put that question to me?”
“No. The question I put to you was ‘Do you care for him?’ To which you replied, ‘Yes,’ Now I’m asking something more. Are you in love with my brother?”
“Yes,” Courtney heard herself whisper, startling as the fervent affirmation left her lips. ’Tis true, she thought, the realization flooding her heart. The very answer I’ve sought has found me—just as Papa predicted. “Unbearably so,” she added softly.
“Are you sure?”
“Extremely sure.”
