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Leaning his head back against the sofa, Julian considered his options.
The solution came to him in a stunning jolt. And a slow smile spread across his face.
* * *
"Was that Lord Guillford who just left?" Aurora asked as Courtney entered the bedchamber.
Her friend nodded, her face clouded with worry. "Yes."
"Need I ask why he'd come to Pembourne?"
"No."
"Did he say anything … unexpected?"
Courtney met the question head-on. "Only that you'd shocked and shamed him, and that it was probably best you remained unmarried—to anyone—given the circumstances."
"In other words, I've not only been labeled a harlot, but an unfeeling bitch who would blatantly scorn her own brother." With a frustrated sigh, Aurora rose from her rocking chair, wishing she could undo every moment since she'd left Pembourne last night. "Courtney, what can I say to make this easier for Slayde? How can I make him believe I hadn't an inkling the man I asked to ruin me was a Bencroft?"
"He does believe you," Courtney replied. "As for making it easier, I doubt that's possible. He was worried sick when he realized you were gone, especially after the guards found your tracks in the snow and realized you weren't taking an innocent stroll to the lighthouse to see Mr. Scollard, but were headed for the village. Then, reaching the village, running into Lady Altec, who delightedly informed him you were at Dawlish's—that gave Slayde an inkling of your motives."
"He must have been furious."
"Let's just say this is one confrontation I'm glad I missed. From what I could pry out of Slayde when he came home, I'd say he was totally overwrought by the time he burst into your arranged tête-à-tête. And then to find you with Julian Bencroft…" Courtney rolled her eyes. "Suffice it to say that this one, my impulsive friend, is not going to vanish overnight. You know how Slayde views the Bencrofts."
"The same way I do—as the enemy. Hell and damnation," Aurora exploded, "why couldn't that man in the tavern have been anyone but him?"
"I can't answer that. But, according to what you've told me, Lawrence Bencroft's son was as surprised to learn your identity as you were to learn his."
"He was. You should have seen the mortified look on his face when he spoke my name. He uttered it as one would a vicious oath."
Courtney crossed over to the window, glancing shrewdly at her friend as she passed. "You sound disappointed about his reaction. What's more, you look disappointed." Pausing, Courtney turned, leaning back against the sill and folding her arms across her chest as she faced Aurora. "Would you care to tell me about Morland's new duke? I presume you did have a chance to exchange a few words before Lady Altec's arrival inspired you to fling yourself into his arms. Which reminds me, how is it that you heard the dowager's approaching footsteps but not Slayde's? I should think your brother's strides would be louder and far more familiar."
Aurora flushed.
"I repeat," Courtney said, "would you care to describe Julian Bencroft for me?"
"All right, yes, he's handsome," Aurora snapped. "And charming and exciting and worldly. He's also Lawrence Bencroft's son."
"And the embrace Slayde interrupted? Was that as staged as you professed?" Courtney waved away Aurora's stammering protest. "Aurora, this is me you're talking to. I know what a dreadful liar you are. Please—the truth."
Aurora stared at the carpet. "I feel so guilty, especially given how upset Slayde is. But, no, the kiss wasn't entirely feigned. Perhaps it wasn't feigned at all, now that I consider it. But at the time—I didn't think. I just acted. I don't know when the performance ended and the pleasure began. All I know is that I felt as if I were drowning and I had no desire to swim. I never imagined…" She broke off.
"I see." Turning to gaze out the window, Courtney lay her palm on her abdomen, unconsciously caressing her unborn child as she recalled precisely when she'd first experienced the feelings Aurora was describing. "And earlier on—what did the two of you discuss?"
"Adventures. Traveling abroad. Freedom."
"Really?" Courtney's eyes narrowed with interest as she spied the carriage rounding Pembourne's drive, halting before the entranceway steps. "Tell me, Aurora," she continued, watching the single occupant alight. "Is Julian Bencroft tall? Dark-haired? Unconventional in his attire—at least for a nobleman? Very lithe in his movements?"
"Have you met him?" Aurora asked incredulously.
"No." Courtney pivoted, throwing Aurora a speculative look. "But I'm about to."
"What?"
"A carriage bearing what I distinctly recall from our past encounters with the late duke as the Bencroft family crest just rounded the drive. From your description, I suspect the man on his way to our entranceway door is Julian Bencroft."
"My God." Aurora shot over to the window like a bullet, her heart slamming against her ribs as she saw the all-too-familiar build, the black windblown hair, the broad shoulders defined by a white linen shirt—unadorned by a cravat and unbuttoned at the neck. "It is he. Why on earth do you think he's here?"
