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"Courtney, this is Julian Bencroft—" Slayde wrapped a protective arm about his wife, as if trying to stave off the ugly memories evoked by the name he was about to utter. "—the Duke of Morland. Morland, my wife Courtney, the Countess of Pembourne…" A pause. "…and Aurora's closest friend."
"I'm delighted, my lady." Julian stepped forward, kissed Courtney's hand.
"Your Grace." The countess's sea green gaze was more curious than distressed.
"Please, call me Julian. After all, we're about to become family." He tossed Slayde a cheerful look. "Speaking of which, I'm happy to report that you needn't load your pistol. A duel will not be necessary. A wedding, however, will be."
Slayde sucked in his breath, his eyes narrowed on his sister's face. "Aurora, is this truly what you want?"
"Sur
prisingly, yes." The glow emanating from Aurora couldn't be mistaken for anything short of genuine pleasure. "This is truly what I want."
A taut moment ticked by.
"Bloody hell," Slayde muttered. "I don't know what to do."
Julian watched Courtney and Aurora exchange a long meaningful look, after which Courtney nodded. "Slayde," she murmured, touching her husband's arm. "It's all right."
He gazed down at her, seeking and finding what he sought. "Very well," he conceded, his stare shifting to Julian. "But be good to her, Morland. Else you'll answer to me."
"You have my word," Julian drawled, giving Aurora's fingers a provocative squeeze. "I'll be extraordinarily good to her. In fact, you have my word—your sister will never want for anything." He nearly grinned as he felt Aurora's skin grow hot.
"When did you want this wedding to take place?" Slayde demanded.
"I opted for this afternoon," Julian answered frankly. "Unfortunately Aurora needs a bit more time, as does the obtaining of a special license. So we agreed upon a fortnight."
"Fine. We'll contact Vicar Rawlins. He can ride out to Pembourne, conduct the wedding in the estate's chapel—swiftly and with minimum notice from the outside world. The whole ceremony will be over in a matter of minutes, after which you can whisk Aurora away from Pembourne and from whatever dangers lurk at its gates."
"Pembourne?" Aurora broke in, with an adamant shake of her head. "Absolutely not! Slayde, I'm a prisoner to this estate. I will not get married here as well."
"Slayde," Courtney interrupted in her soothing, gentle tone. "I understand how adamant you are about ensuring Aurora's safety. But every woman wants to be a bride, to have a real wedding day. I treasured ours; I still do. Let Aurora have hers. We'll make arrangements with Vicar Rawlins, travel quietly to his church—the one where you and I were joined. Mr. Scollard can attend, as can anyone else Aurora or Julian wishes. Then we'll have a small celebration here at Pembourne, where the entire staff can attend and help us see the newly married couple off. Surely a few hours can't make much difference." A bright smile lit her face. "Besides, those hours will loudly proclaim Aurora's farewell to the name Huntley … and her welcome to, of all things, the name Bencroft. Would you truly want to deny Lady Altec, who will mysteriously receive word of the upcoming event a mere hour before it takes place, the opportunity to embellish upon a juicy tidbit that will—why, the very next morning surge beyond Devonshire, sweep through the ranks of the ton like a summer storm?"
"I see your point," Slayde conceded. "What good does Aurora's new status do her if nobody knows of it." His eyes narrowed suspiciously on his wife's angelic expression. "Mysteriously receive word of the upcoming event? Surge beyond Devonshire the very next morning? Why do I sense one of your schemes in the making?"
"No schemes. Simply a discreet missive delivered to Lady Altec an hour before the ceremony takes place—enough time to race off to tell her friends, not enough time for anyone to intrude upon the event. Also a few tasteful announcements of what will then be an accomplished fact to appear in the Morning Post, the Gazette, and the Times on the morning following the wedding—timing that will thereby preclude any unsavory types from using Aurora's wedding day as an opportunity to descend upon any of us or upon Pembourne in search of the black diamond. By the time the newspapers—or Lady Altec, whoever travels more swiftly—reach the eyes and ears of the ton, Aurora will be away from Pembourne and the curse."
Julian's jaw dropped, although he noted no one else in the room seemed to share his surprise. Clearly the countess's serene facade was a deceptive cloak for a character as strong and resourceful as Aurora's—the sole difference being that Courtney's fire simmered while Aurora's flared.
Abruptly Julian understood how these two women had become such close friends.
"How does that sound to you, Julian?" Courtney inquired.
"It sounds brilliant," Julian heard himself reply. "However, I must say that the true congratulations here belong to your husband. Living with one tempest is enough. But two?"
For the first time, a semblance of a smile tugged at Slayde's lips. "I appreciate your commendation—a well-deserved one, I might add."
Aurora groaned.
Courtney tossed Julian a challenging look. "One thing more. If we hold the ceremony away from Pembourne, it will give you the opportunity to accustom yourself to the responsibility that—according to my husband's mutterings over the past half hour—you vowed to assume: that of keeping Aurora safe."
"A test, my lady?" Julian suggested boldly.
Courtney's gaze shifted from Julian to Aurora and back, her eyes twinkling with pleasure. "I think not. An onset, Your Grace."
Julian chuckled, welcoming Courtney's spunk. "In that case, I'd be delighted to shoulder my new role as Aurora's protector the very instant she becomes my wife."
"Good." Courtney turned to her husband. "Slayde?"
