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So why was it so bloody important to her that she secure those things? Why couldn't she just accept the wonders she'd already been offered—exploring the world, seeking out the black diamond, fueling the fires of passion? Why were those enticements no longer enough?
The answer was as startling as it was obvious.
She was falling in love with her husband.
Aurora nearly groaned aloud. How could this be happening? she pondered in astonishment. A month ago she hadn't even known Julian Bencroft. 'Twas impossible for him to have captured her heart in a matter of days.
And yet she'd trusted him in a matter of minutes.
She'd told him so herself on the day he proposed, argued that time was not a requirement for trust, that trust came from within and was ofttimes instinctive rather than earned. And how could she refute that statement when she knew in her heart it was true? She had trusted Julian from the onset, had believed in his noble intentions, his decency, his honor. She'd placed her life and her future in his hands, knowing somehow he would give her everything she craved.
What she hadn't realized was just how much she craved.
But love? Unlike trust, love took time, familiarity, cultivation. Didn't it?
It hadn't with Slayde and Courtney.
Aurora squeezed her eyes shut, the full impact of her realization sinking in. I'm a fool, she berated herself inwardly, contemplating the overwhelming sensations she experienced each time she and Julian made love—sensations too profound to stem merely from lust, incited by a fervor that intensified more with each joining. A stupid, bloody fool. What did I think Mr. Scollard was trying to tell me when he compared me with Courtney, reminded me of the days when she grappled with her feelings for Slayde after being thrust unexpectedly into his life? Mr. Scollard was as much as telling me I'd soon experience something similar with Julian. Only I was too dim-witted to hear.
Well, I hear you now, Mr. Scollard, she acknowledged ruefully. The question is, what am I going to do about it?
For now—nothing.
The decision erupted in her mind with the same conviction as had the realization of her feelings. And while she was still reeling from the knowledge that she was falling in love with Julian, she was sensible enough to know that she couldn't act upon her newfound discovery—not now. Not with the black diamond still unrecovered, the echoes of the past still haunting their lives. There was too much closure yet to be had, too many hurdles to be contemplated and surmounted.
And unearthing the black diamond was only the first.
After that came she herself.
Aurora drew a slow, steadying breath, grasping the open strongbox in her hands as if it were an anchor. She'd never truly imagined falling in love, and now that she had—well, she needed time to understand these new startling feelings that had stormed her senses, taken her completely by surprise.
Then came the third—and perhaps the most difficult—hurdle of all: Julian.
How could she convey these feelings to him? What could she say, and when? How severe would his reaction be?
That he'd be irked was a certainty. Aurora was too honest to delude herself into thinking otherwise. She, better than anyone, knew the way her husband regarded her: as an exciting and delightful diversion, a tempting indulgence to be savored at will, even a kindred spirit and worthy companion. But love? Love was not part of Julian's plan any more than were the constraints spawned by emotional bonds. Julian was an adventurer. He would not welcome the potential limitations love would impose on his way of life. He was also a loner—one who'd already divulged more of himself than he liked and who would be reluctant to permit further intrusions into his private thoughts and feelings.
Lord help her, what impasse had she backed herself into this time?
"Aurora?" Julian's voice was questioning, his gaze curious. "Why are you staring into that strongbox as if it contains another secret we have yet to unearth?"
"Because it does." Jolting back to reality, Aurora fingered the frayed page that lay within the box. "We still have to determine why James chose this p
articular page to tear out and hide. It's obviously a crucial clue that he meant for us to find."
"Then you agree we should go to Pembourne?"
Pembourne. The prospect sent waves of relief flooding through Aurora—for reasons that had little to do with James's library. "Yes, definitely," she concurred, thinking that traveling to her old home meant receiving precisely what she needed: the wondrous balm of Courtney's counsel. "I suggest we leave Plymouth at once and ride directly to Pembourne."
* * *
It was late at night when they arrived, and Aurora glanced anxiously at the manor, experiencing another surge of relief when she saw that the lamps on the first level were still lit.
"They're awake," she murmured, nearly leaping from the phaeton. She bounded up the steps, knocking loudly and repeatedly until Siebert opened the door.
"Good evening, Siebert. It is I," Aurora announced.
"I never doubted that for a moment, my lady," the butler returned dryly. "Who else would be breaking down the door at this hour of night?" He stepped aside to admit the two of them, nodding politely—if aloofly—at Julian. "The earl and countess are in the sitting room."
