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“So I gathered from the details you relayed to me earlier. Speaking of which,”—Oridge reached into his portfolio and extracted a folded newspaper, his eyes twinkling—“I take it neither of you has had the chance to skim today’s Times?”
Courtney nearly leaped from her seat. “Are the ransom notes in there?”
“The notes and your letter. Atop page two. A most visible location.”
“Splendid!” Courtney was already reaching for the newspaper.
Slayde was a split second faster, relieving Oridge of the Times and opening it to the proper page. “I must admit you and Aurora did an astonishing job,” he murmured as he read. “Even the phrasing of the letter sounds like language I would use.”
“Why, thank you, my lord.” Courtney’s eyes sparkled. “Coming from you, I take that as the very highest of compliments.”
“All in all, Miss Johnston’s efforts look quite persuasive in print,” Oridge assessed. “I suspect that, between the newspaper article and the ensuing gossip, people will soon be more than convinced that the black diamond and its alleged curse are no longer connected to the Huntleys.”
“Precisely what I intended,” Courtney said with great relish, reaching for the newspaper.
Slayde handed it to her, scowling as a new thought occurred to him. “I wonder how Morland will react to this public revelation.”
“Not happily, I should say.” Oridge rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Unless he’s innocent or, if he’s guilty, unless he’s already rid himself of the stone. After today, he’ll be under public scrutiny, a prime suspect, given the history of your families. To try shipping or selling the stone at this time would be an enormous risk.”
“And the diamond is useless to Morland if he can’t profit from it,” Courtney noted, triumphantly scanning her article.
“Profit from it or, if he wants only to rid himself of the curse, transport it to the royal family who paid for its recovery as soon as possible—something he’ll be unable to do for weeks, perhaps months, until the uproar dies down.”
“So Morland might very well be infuriated right about now.” Courtney raised her head, a speculative gleam lighting her eyes. “How intriguing.”
“Courtney, don’t even think of approaching that man again,” Slayde warned, eyes narrowed on her face.
“I won’t.” Idly, she refolded the Times. “On the other hand, maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe he’ll approach us.”
Chapter 15
A DAY AND A half later, Slayde’s carnage rolled through the gates at Pembourne, its occupants stiff and bleary-eyed, but no closer to devising a scheme for unearthing the culprit at Pembourne than they’d been two days past.
“Well continue this discussion later, my lord,” Oridge pronounced, glancing out the window as they rounded the drive, “after you’ve compiled that list of names and dates. We’ll meet in your study, behind closed doors.”
Slayde nodded. “Along with Miss Johnston and Lady Aurora,” he added pointedly.
“Fine.” Oridge gathered up his portfolio. “Again, I must remind you to make certain no one’s about when you alert your sister to our findings. I can’t stress that point enough; it’s crucial to achieving our end and to remaining healthy in the process. Unfortunately, as things stand, we don’t know whom we can trust.”
“So we trust no one,” Slayde decreed.
“Exactly.”
Courtney sighed, shifting restlessly in her seat. She wished they’d already formulated their plan, something that would force the culprit to give himself away. Well, she intended to do so as soon as possible—if not with Slayde and Oridge, then with her favorite coconspirator: Aurora.
The carriage stopped, and a footman climbed down, opening the carriage door and assisting them out.
“ ’Tis good to be home,” Courtney murmured, assessing the manor fondly. There was that word again—home. An inner glow lit her heart.
“Yes. It is.” Slayde stepped down beside her, the tension that had accompanied them from London temporarily held at bay. Smiling tenderly, he wrapped his arm about her waist. “Pembourne is your home, sweetheart,” he added, as if reading her mind. “Now and always.” He cast a dazed look about him. “Ironically, it’s become mine as well.”
Hearing the awed catch in his voice, Courtney reached up, caressing his jaw and reveling in the contentment she saw reflected on his face. “Welcome home, then,” she whispered.
Slayde turned his lips into her palm. “Welcome home.”
Euphoria bubbled inside Courtney like uncorked champagne. “When can we tell Aurora our news?”
“The instant we see her. We can shout it to the heavens, if you wish.”
