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"Which is?"
"The reading of your father's will. Now that you've returned from abroad, 'tis time to address it. 'Tis also possible that hearing Lawrence's provisos could alter your plans."
"Really?" Julian felt more amused than worried. "Why? Did he decide to leave Morland Manor to some local urchins rather than to me?"
"Of course not. The estate, its furnishings, and whatever funds your father amassed are yours."
All humor vanished. "I don't want his money."
"Julian, please." The solicitor unsealed and unfolded the document. "I'm asking only for a few minutes of your time."
"I apologize, Henry. Go ahead."
"The will is standard, enumerating precisely what I've just said. Thus, I'll skip down to the final clause. 'Julian', it reads, 'unless, unbeknownst to me, your adventures have included the siring of heirs, you are now the last remaining Bencroft. This brings me no comfort. Like your great-grandfather before you, your hunger for parts unknown has induced you to forsake your responsibilities. Doubtless, within months of my death, the estate will be disposed of, the title gone, and the Bencroft name resting solely on your unreliable shoulders. For the title and estate, I realize you feel only disdain. But for the family name, the name that belonged to your brother Hugh and to the great-grandfather you so closely emulate, I allow myself to speculate otherwise. If I'm wrong, if you care not a whit if the Bencroft name remains sullied, disregard sentiment and view my forthcoming request as a challenge—the one thing other than money that propels a heedless mercenary like yourself. Either way, my request is as follows: Find and return the black diamond. End the curse. Clear the Bencroft name. Not for me. Not even for you. For Hugh. Fo
r his memory. Surely that is but a paltry task for a seasoned adventurer like yourself? Prove yourself, Julian. That is my request—no, my legacy—to you'." Camden looked up. "The will was properly executed and witnessed in my office last spring."
With a muffled curse Julian rose, walking over to gaze out the window. For long moments he said nothing, merely clutched his goblet and grappled with his father's words, with their ultimate impact. At last he turned. "Is that it?"
The solicitor lowered the pages to the table. "With respect to your father, yes. Other than to inform you that he began another comprehensive search for the black diamond during the final months of his life."
"Did he keep records on this search?"
"He did."
"Then I'll need to see them."
Slowly Camden nodded. "You'll find them in his study. In the top drawer of his desk. That's where Lawrence kept all his important papers." He extracted a key. "This will open it."
Julian stared at the key as if it were a loathsome insect. "Fine. Leave it on the table."
"You're not obligated to fulfill your father's request," Camden reminded him, placing the key on the small end table beside him.
"'Request'?" Julian tossed off his brandy. "That wasn't a request, Henry, it was blackmail."
"Then why are you complying? Certainly not to unearth the stone—you've always expressed utter disdain for the diamond and all who seek it."
"I'm complying for Hugh. I'm complying because everything my father enumerated in that clause is true—about my priorities, about the ramifications of my being the last living Bencroft, about the debt I owe my ancestors." A bitter laugh. "My father might have been a coldhearted bastard but he wasn't stupid. He knew precisely where to find my Achilles' heel. And find it he did." Julian frowned, glancing restlessly about. "Clearly I'll need access to this mausoleum in order to amass his papers. Therefore, we'll have to defer our discussion about selling it—for a few months—until I've fulfilled the terms of my father's so-called legacy."
"You're confident you'll find the stone."
"I don't fail."
"Dozens of others have."
"I'm not others."
The elderly solicitor's lips twitched. "I would agree. In fact, when I compare my understanding of you with the stories passed down to me about your great-grandfather, I'd venture to say the two of you are a great deal alike. According to my family's reports, Geoffrey Bencroft was quite a colorful character."
"So I've heard."
"He never could resist a challenge. Can you?"
Julian arched a sardonic brow. "Evidently not."
"That's precisely what I wanted to hear—more than enough to ensure a decision I made long years ago." So saying, Camden extracted another sealed document from his portfolio, together with a small ornate chest—plainly the cause for the portfolio's weighted bulk—and a corresponding key.
"What is that?" Julian asked, his curiosity instantly roused.
