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A brooding expression clouded Slayde’s gaze. “There’s something I must ask you,” he said abruptly. “And I want you to consider the question carefully before you answer it.”

“All right.”

“If your father were still alive, would that affect your decision to marry me?”

Courtney stared. “What?”

“Were your father here, alive and well, were you able to have your old life back rather than take on the ardors of mine, would you choose to? I want the truth.”

“Then here it is: no.” She wrapped her arms fiercely about Slayde’s waist. “You, Lord Pembourne, are a wonderful and compassionate man. You’re also a dolt. Do you honestly believe I accepted your marriage proposal because I’m alone? Slayde, I accepted because I love you. Yes, I wish to God Papa were alive. But if he were, the only thing about our wedding that would change is the fact that he could officially give me away, share in the joy I’ll feel when I become your wife.” Her lips trembled. “And, Slayde, he would share that joy. He’s the one who told me, time and again, that I’d know when I met the right man, a man who needed me and my love as much as I needed his. I’d give anything if Papa could have lived to see his prophecy become a reality—and to meet you. He’d think so highly of you, and you of him.” Courtney drew a shaky breath. “In my heart, though, he’ll be here to bless our union. I wish he could be here in fact. But even if he were, I’d still be bidding my old life good-bye. Because never have I wanted anything as much as I want to become your wife. Does that answer your question?”

Slayde made a rough sound deep in his throat. “Not only my question, but my prayer.”

“Then will you answer an equally difficult question for me?”

“Anything.”

Courtney wet her lips, summoned her courage. “Your proposal came on the heels of my recounting what I’d done with the ransom notes. What if I hadn’t told you of my plan? What if I’d never thought of it to begin with? What if, in the worst case, my plan fails, if we were never to learn the truth about your parents’ murderers and if the dangers associated with the black diamond were to somehow seep back into our lives?” She searched Slayde’s face. “Would you regret asking me to marry you?”

“Not in a thousand years,” he answered instantly.

“But what about—”

“My vow?” he finished for her. “To hell with it. I made that vow in empty ignorance, before I knew what it meant to love. My feelings for you…” With trembling hands, he gathered her closer. “These feelings dwarf everything: my vow, the diamond and its fabricated curse, even the past and all its agony. I’ll never let anything harm you. I’ll protect you with my life. And I’ll make you happy—happier than you ever dreamed possible.” Lowering his head, he brushed Courtney’s lips with his. “Does that answer your question?”

An aching smile. “Not only my question, but my prayer.”

Chapter 14

“MY LORD.” ORIDGE GREETED Slayde at the door of the warehouse he’d specified as their meeting spot. “I’m glad you’re here.” A flicker of surprise as he glimpsed Courtney. “Miss Johnston accompanied you, I see.”

“I insisted on coming, Mr. Oridge,” Courtney answered for herself. “I can’t be shielded. ’Twas my father’s ship Armon seized. Because of him and his men, I lost my home, my father, and very nearly my life. If any of Papa’s crew is still alive, I want to see them firsthand. Further, I want to be allowed to board the Fortune after it’s been emptied, to look around for possible clues that could lead us to Armon’s accomplice. Oh, and I’ll be more than happy to identify any members of his crew I recognize from the Isobel’s capture. That will give Bow Street additional leverage to hang them.”

Oridge glanced at Slayde, who nodded.

“Miss Johnston is right,” he told his investigator. “She is directly involved in this mystery—even more so than you’re yet aware.”

“Sir?”

Slayde frowned, recalling for the umpteenth time the recent attempt on Courtney’s life. “I’ll explain later. For now, fill us in on whatever you’ve learned thus far.”

“Very well,” Oridge agreed. “Armon’s first mate did a fair amount of talking, once he was properly persuaded.” A subtle flexing of his muscles left little doubt as to what method o

f persuasion Oridge had used. “Evidently, most of the Isobel’s crew were transferred to the Fortune, as per Armon’s instructions.”

“Were they hurt?” Courtney demanded anxiously.

“No. To the contrary—they were ignored. Once Armon’s crew realized their captain was gone for good, chaos erupted. His men were preoccupied only with getting to London and pawning the booty they’d pilfered from the Isabel, then sailing off to parts unknown. Your father’s crew was imprisoned aboard the Fortune solely during those hours when Armon’s men disembarked to hawk their goods. Otherwise, they were free to move about at will, so long as they didn’t make trouble. Which none of them did. Consequently, they are now alive and unharmed—at least those crewmen who were transferred to the Fortune, that is.”

“ ‘Those who were transferred to the Fortune,’ ” Courtney repeated. “Who wasn’t?”

“Ten men in all—one of whom, as you know, was your father.”

“What about Lexley—Papa’s next in command?”

“He, unfortunately, was another of the ten. It seems Armon viewed him unfavorably; he said Lexley had given him too much trouble to be spared.”

“He did.” Courtney’s throat tightened. “Poor Lexley battled Armon every step of the way. Especially when he commanded him to hurl Papa overboard.” She bowed her head. “The only time Lexley complied without resistance was when Armon ordered him to transfer me to Lord Pembourne’s fishing boat. That order he embraced, realizing it would afford me my sole chance of survival. Lexley was decent and loyal—too loyal to serve a pirate. And, because of that, he died.”

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