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“Agreed.” Courtney squinted as the manor loomed closer. “The house looks deserted. I hope the duke didn’t pick this particular time to go out.”
“Doubtful. It’s too early to conduct business.” Aurora waited until Courtney had veered the phaeton off the road and hidden it behind a thick clump of trees. Then, she turned toward her, grim-faced. “Good luck.”
A wan smile. “Thanks.”
Climbing down from the phaeton, Courtney walked the remaining length of drive, her step decisive, her heart hammering in her chest. She mounted the two stone steps and knocked.
“Yes?” A haughty-looking butler answered the door.
“I’m here to see the duke.”
One brow rose. “And who, might I ask, are you?”
Courtney’s chin came up. “A woman who has business with your master, not with you.” She pushed past him, crossing the threshold into the hall. Excellent, she commended herself. You got in without announcing yourself. Now, even if Slayde has provided his investigator with names, the man will have no clue as to your identity.
She could almost hear Aurora’s applause.
“Now where can I find His Grace?” she demanded, resuming her performance.
“Madame, you cannot just barge in here and insist on seeing the duke. I must know—”
Pivoting about, Courtney regarded him with blazing eyes. “Does the duke seek your approval on all his women? If so, he’s a poor excuse for a man.”
Courtney wondered who was more shocked by her brazen comment, the butler or she.
“I…” He wet his lips. “His Grace told me nothing about…wait here.” His mouth snapped shut, and he stalked off, rigid as a drawn bowstring.
The instant Courtney saw the direction he was taking, she followed behind, silently and with enough distance between them so he wouldn’t sense her presence.
“Your Grace?” she heard him ask, once he’d veered into a room. “There’s a young woman here to see you. She says you summoned her.”
“A woman?” the duke sounded perplexed. “What kind of nonsense—”
“I never claimed to have been summoned,” Courtney interjected, shoving past the butler into what looked to be a study. “I merely said I had business with the duke. Which I do.”
Lawrence Bencroft rose to his feet, his dark eyes baffled. “Who are you? What business do you have with me?”
“Private business.” Courtney gave him what she hoped to be a suggestive look, then inclined her head pointedly at the butler.
A thoughtful silence, then a nod. “You may leave us, Thayer.”
Thayer needed no second invitation. He was gone in a heartbeat, the door shut in his wake.
“Now.” The elderly duke walked around his desk, giving Courtney a solicitous smile, one she imagined that had once been charming, on a face that had once been quite handsome, but was now lined with bitterness and age. “You’re very lovely. Please enlighten me. Which of my colleagues was kind enough to send you to me?”
“No one sent me. As I said, I’m here on personal business.”
An amused look. “Really? Then, I’d be delighted to hear what sort of business we have to discuss.”
“The business of my father and how you killed him.”
Morland stopped in his tracks, his smile fading, his eyes narrowed on Courtney’s face. “Who are you?”
“Courtney Johnston.” She gripped the back of a chair to still her body’s trembling. “Arthur Johnston’s daughter.”
“Who the hell is Arthur Johnston?”
“He was the captain of the Isobel, the ship your pirate accomplice Armon seized in order to blackmail Slayde Huntley into relinquishing the black diamond.”
