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“Maybe he’s found something.” Courtney, too, was now on her feet.
Swiftly, Slayde took the letter and tore it open, scanning its contents. “Oridge located the Fortune. The ship made its way down the Thames, rounded the coast, and passed Sandwich, heading south through the Downs. Evidently, Oridge waited for the right moment, then crowded the Fortune until it fell victim to the Goodwin Sands. The ship is being hauled back to London. Oridge wants me to meet him there.”
“I’ll pack.” Courtney headed for the door.
“Courtney.” Slayde caught up with her in the hallway.
“Don’t even consider asking me to stay behind,” she cautioned.
A twinge of amusement. “I had no intentions of doing that. I was merely going to suggest we leave for London today, rather than wait for morning. I know it’s after two, but we could travel five or six hours before darkness falls and, as a result, be that much farther on our way when we stop for the night. We’ll stay at an inn in Somerset and be refreshed and ready to begin anew at daybreak. Is that acceptable?”
“My bag is as good as packed.” Courtney turned to go.
Abruptly, she realized they had an audience.
Aurora, Elinore, Rayburn, and Siebert hovered nearby, all of whom, upon hearing Courtney and Slayde, began talking at once, beginning with Rayburn’s “Shall I return to my post, sir?” followed by Siebert’s “I’ll summon Matilda to assist Miss Johnston,” which was simultaneous with Elinore’s tactful “Courtney, might I be of some assistance?” and Aurora’s resounding “Why are you going to London?”
Slayde stared amazedly at all four of them. “You’re awaiting our emergence like a pack of sentries. Did you think I’d done Courtney bodily harm?”
Characteristically, it was Aurora who answered. “Can you blame us for being worried?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. “Slayde, you very nearly assaulted poor Courtney before dragging her from the salon—after having bellowed so loudly upon arriving that you doubtless incited a stampede in the stables. For a man who prides himself on his self-control, you behaved like a wild boar.”
There was a chorus of sharp inhalations as everyone awaited Slayde’s response.
To the amazement of all, he began to chuckle. “You’re right, Aurora. Although I find your analogy most unflattering. Still, I do see the similarities, now that you’ve called them to my attention.” Sobering, he shifted his gaze to Rayburn. “Yes. Return to your post. I want to know if Morland so much as blinks in the direction of my estate.”
“Yes, sir.” The investigator hurried off.
“Siebert, Mr. Rayburn will need some means of travel,” Slayde prompted. “A carriage perhaps?”
“Hmm?” The butler was still staring at Slayde as if he were a stranger. “Oh. Mr. Rayburn. Of course, sir.” He nodded crisply and complied, although he paused once or twice, glancing over his shoulder as if to confirm that the man who’d just successively shouted and laughed was indeed the earl.
“Slayde,” Elinore inserted, “has something significant happened? Is that why you’re leaving for London?”
“Armon’s ship was located,” Slayde answered tersely. “Courtney and I are going to London to recover whatever members of her father’s crew are aboard.” He frowned. “Will you excuse me? I must speak with my guards to prepare them for the possibility that Morland might make an appearance while we’re gone.” His silver eyes darkened, his gaze hard as steel as it fixed on Aurora. “I want you inside the manor until we return. No strolls, no lighthouse, nothing. Is that thoroughly understood?”
Seeing the familiar mutinous expression that flashed on her friend’s face, Courtney added her voice to Slayde’s. “We stirred up a hornet’s nest today, Aurora. If Morland is the criminal we suspect he is, my instigation will have rendered him more dangerous than ever. Please, don’t argue with Slayde or do anything foolish. Not this time. Your life could be at stake.”
Aurora’s anger cooled somewhat. “You’re right. Very well, I’ll stay snug—and bored—in the manor until your return. Unless,” she added hopefully, “you want me to accompany you on your trip?”
“Absolutely not.” Slayde shot that notion down at once. “As it is, I’ll have my hands full keeping Courtney out of trouble. At least knowing you’re safe will afford me some peace of mind.”
A resigned nod.
“Go, Slayde,” Elinore urged him. “I’ll assist Courtney until Matilda appears to take over.”
“Thank you.”
“I wish you luck,” she called after him. Brows drawn in concern, she watched his retreat, then took Courtney’s hands in hers. “Are you certain this ordeal isn’t going to be too painful for you, dear? You have no idea which of your father’s crew have survived, nor what kind of condition they’ll be in. Moreover, seeing them will doubtless evoke devastating memories.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Courtney conceded. “But ’tis something I must do.” Her chin set. “Not only do I want to rescue Papa’s crew, I intend to search every inch of Armon’s ship until I find a clue as to the identity of his accomplice. Surely there must be something: a note, a journal, a letter. I told Lawrence Bencroft I had written proof. Well, by week’s end, perhaps that boast will become a reality.”
The tiny Somerset village was shrouded in newly settled darkness when the Huntley carriage rolled in.
The ride from Pembourne had been quiet, both occupants preoccupied with the anticipation of what lay ahead. During the last few hours of travel, Courtney had dozed, her body protesting the grueling day to which it had been subjected. First Morland, then Slayde, now this.
Lord, she was tired.
“I’ll have my driver post the horses and find out where the nearest inn is,” Slayde announced once they’d come to a halt. “We’ll eat, get some rest, then travel all day tomorrow.”
