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“Ah. Need I remind you that Slayde is a skilled and seasoned loner who’s adamant about remaining so?”
“No, you needn’t.” Aurora’s grin was impish. “ ’Twould seem, my friend, that two novices are about to undo one expert.”
“Very well, Miss Johnston.” Oridge scribbled down a few additional notes, then raised his head and leveled his keen investigator’s gaze on Courtney. “We’ve gone over all the events you can recall from the time this Armon seized the Isobel to the time Lord Pembourne rescued you from the channel. You’ve given me detailed descriptions of the pirates who accompanied Armon onto your ship. And you’ve provided me with a list of names of the entire crew of the Isobel.”
“That’s correct, sir.” Courtney massaged her temples, wishing the throbbing in her head would subside. Then again, how could she expect that it would? After all, she and Mr. Oridge had been ensconced in the library for what seemed like an eternity, hashing and rehashing the events that had brought her to Pembourne.
Inadvertently, her gaze wandered to the library’s grandfather clock. Half after three. With the exception of a thirty-minute meal in the adjoining salon and one much-needed hour-long nap in her chambers, she’d been seated on the sofa since nine o’clock this morning, reliving the most harrowing experience of her life. She felt utterly drained and physically spent. And her concussion had little to do with it.
“Are you all right, Miss Johnston?”
Her head jerked around and, seeing the genuine concern on the investigator’s face, she felt a stab of guilt. “Forgive me, Mr. Oridge. Yes, I’m fine.”
“No apology is necessary.” He closed his portfolio. “I realize how difficult this must be for you—in more ways than one.” He cleared his throat, speaking in a low, reassuring tone. “Answering countless questions is exhausting. Far more exhausting, in fact, than asking them.”
Courtney gave him a weak smile, grateful for his attempt to put her at ease. “I have little patience for these lingering injuries of mine. If only my strength were back, I’d go after the Fortune myself.”
“Then how fortunate your strength hasn’t cooperated,” Oridge returned curtly, all semblance of compassion having vanished. Leaning forward, he gripped his knees, an intense expression on his face. “Miss Johnston, I’m going to be blunt. Traversing the ocean as a sea captain’s daughter does not make you a seasoned navigator. You might think you know a great deal about ships. Trust me, you don’t. Not when it comes to dangerous matters like pursuing a pirate ship and dealing with the pirates once you’ve found them. So if you have any heroic notions of striking out on your own, forget them. I’m good at what I do. If Armon’s ship can be found, I’ll find it. And you’ll stay alive in the process. Am I making myself clear?”
“Perfectly clear.”
“Good. Then I have only one more question for you. What kind of cargo was the Isobel carrying?”
“If you’re asking if our cargo was valuable enough to pilfer, the answer is yes. We transported furniture and other manufactured goods to the Colonies.”
“Furniture? Unlikely,” Oridge muttered. “Other goods…such as what?”
“Pardon me?”
“Was there anything on board your ship that would bring a nice sum but was less cumbersome to transfer than furniture?”
“Why, yes.” Courtney had no idea what avenue Oridge was pursuing, but she followed nonetheless. “I wasn’t privy to a full list of our cargo, but I do recall there were silver pieces, vases, and several expensive wooden clocks aboard. Are those the type of things you mean?”
“Those are exactly the things I mean.” Oridge came to his feet. “Thank you, Miss Johnston, you’ve been a great help. I suggest you go to your chambers now and rest.”
Courtney rose as swiftly as he. “What is it I helped you with? What prospect are you entertaining?”
“As I said, you’re pale and weary.” He crossed over, pulled open the library door and gestured for her to pass. “I’m sure the earl will fill you in on whatever you need to know.”
Slowly, Courtney walked toward him, halting only when she’d reached the open doorway. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you, Mr. Oridge?”
“No, Miss Johnston, I’m not.”
She nodded, frustration screaming along every nerve ending in her body. “I don’t like your answer. But I respect it. The earl is your employer. Any conclusions you reach, you must first discuss with him.”
“Thank you for your understanding,” Oridge said with businesslike formality.
“You’re welcome.” Courtney stepped into the hallway, feeling baffled and weary and far too stimulated to rest. Until Slayde returned to answer her questions, she feared sleep was out of the question.
“Pardon me, Miss Johnston.”
Courtney turned to see Siebert standing a few feet away. “Yes?”
“Lady Aurora asked me to give you a message when you’d finished speaking with Mr. Oridge. Which I presume you have?” Receiving Courtney’s confirming nod, he continued. “She asked if you’d join her and the viscountess in the yellow salon. That is, if you’re not too fatigued. Lady Aurora did specify that she’d understand if you preferred to retire to your chambers.” The tone of Siebert’s voice clearly stated that Lady Aurora would understand no such thing.
With a glimmer of humor, Courtney replied, “Thank you, Siebert. I’ll join them at once.”
Recalling the location of the yellow salon, she made her way there, knocking politely before entering.
