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“Good; then it will be ready when he is. After we mull over the possibilities, I’ll leave for Morland. Incidentally, if you and Courtney become overeager during my absence and decide to take matters into your own hands—don’t. Oridge has been instructed to adhere himself to you like a second skin until my return. I assume neither of you objects?”
Aurora arched a brow. “And if we did?”
“Then I’d remind you that while I’m just learning how to need and love, I’ve long since mastered the art of protecting those I care for.” Slayde’s jaw set. “Don’t test me, Aurora. You won’t win.”
“Slayde,” Courtney interceded, with a brief shake of her head at Aurora, “we won’t leave Pembourne or do anything foolish. But that doesn’t preclude our withdrawing behind closed doors, trying to conjure up a plan to unmask the traitor at Pembourne. Surely you wouldn’t deny us that?”
A slow, indrawn breath. “No. I suppose I wouldn’t. Nor would you listen to me if I did.”
“That’s true.” Courtney’s eyes sparkled. “On the other hand, Mr. Oridge’s job will be infinitely easier if Aurora and I spend the afternoon together in one room. Just think: rather than dashing about the grounds, begging Cutterton for assistance, Oridge will only have to post himself outside one door and perform his sentry duty until your return. He can even alert us if, for any reason, our voices become discernible and need to be lowered.” A beatific smile. “Now, doesn’t that make sense?”
Slayde eyed her warily. “Unfortunately, yes—it does.” A speculative pause. “I’m not sure why, but you always seem to bring me around to your way of thinking, even when I have no intentions of being swayed.”
“Yes, I do, don’t I?”
A scowl. “Aurora’s defiance I can handle, and combat, but your…your…”
“Persuasiveness?” Courtney suggested. “Logic? Wisdom?” She crossed the room, laying her palm against Slayde’s jaw. “Or perhaps it’s just an ability that stems from loving someone the way I love you.”
Slayde swallowed, emotion darkening his eyes. “Perhaps.” He turned his lips into her palm. “In which case I’ll learn to live with it.”
The lighthouse was quiet when Slayde arrived two hours later. Awkwardly, he knocked, wondering if Scollard was even here during the afternoons and, if so, if he would welcome Slayde’s visit.
“Ah, Lord Pembourne. You’ve arrived. Excellent.”
Whipping about, Slayde stared at the elderly man who’d come up behind him.
“Forgive me. Did I startle you?” Mr. Scollard inclined his head. “You could have gone in and waited for me in the sitting room. I was just examining the area above the strip, away from where the tide waters strike the shore. An excellent location for a cottage.” He reached past Slayde and opened the door. “Come in.”
Slayde complied, feeling as off balance as if he’d been struck. “You were expecting me?”
“Of course.” Scollard scratched his chin thoughtfully. “There was something I wanted to do…what was it?” An exasperated shrug. “No matter. It’ll come to me. In the meantime, I’ll make some tea. You haven’t much time and we have a great deal to discuss. Incidentally, I’m relieved you left Oridge to oversee the ladies. He’ll station himself right outside Ro
ry’s door and at the same time be able to review that list and keep an eye out for suspicious behavior. He’ll even find a minute or two to chat with Lexley.” The lighthouse keeper scowled. “It’s Courtney I’m worried about, but for this one afternoon, she’ll be safe, and after today, you won’t be leaving her alone…ah!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “That’s what I wanted to do—offer my congratulations. You’re a lucky man. Then again, Courtney is equally lucky. Two halves of what will soon be a far greater whole. I’m delighted. I can hardly wait to see what a beautiful bride she’ll make.” A curious glance. “I’ll get that tea. You’ll need at least two cups; your mouth’s been hanging open so long it must be parched.”
Slayde snapped it shut. “I…How do you know…Never mind.” He dropped into a chair. “Please accept my apologies. This is all very new to me.”
“No apologies are necessary,” Mr. Scollard assured him. “Even Rory, who’s been privy to my insights for years and who’s far more open to the intangible than you, occasionally has difficulty accepting that which clearly is. As for this being very new to you, I know that only too well—and I’m as relieved by your transformation as I am proud. For a while there, I feared you might never find your way.”
“Find my way?” Slayde asked with a faint smile. “Or see clearly enough to discern it?”
“Both. You’d wandered too far to realize you were lost, much less to distinguish your path home.”
A harsh, indrawn breath. “How many times have we met?” Slayde managed. “Twice? Three times? And glimpsed each other perhaps a dozen times more? How is it you know me so well?” He shook his head in wonder. “Or is that one of those questions Courtney claims you won’t answer?”
Mr. Scollard gave a profound sigh. “Won’t? Perhaps can’t is a better choice of words. No gift comes without its price. Mine is that I cannot envision at will, or block out what I’d rather not see.” His probing stare met Slayde’s. “I’ve prayed with all my heart to foresee your solution, yet I see only bits of it.”
“I’ll take those bits—gladly. Whatever you can offer me.
“So be it. The tea.” Mr. Scollard vanished, only to return minutes later with a pot and two cups. “Rory says you don’t much care for tea. So I’ve laced it with brandy. I considered doing that with Courtney, but she’d be either foxed or asleep after one cup. So I refrained.”
Chuckling, Slayde accepted the proffered cup. “You’re right.”
Mr. Scollard seated himself across from Slayde, waiting only until his guest had downed several gulps of tea. “Ask,” he urged simply. “I’ll gift you with all I can.”
Lowering his cup, Slayde got right to the point. “Is Courtney’s father alive?”
“Ah, Courtney asked me much the same question. She asked if her father was gone. I told her he was gone from her eyes and ears but never from her mind and heart.”
