Andrea Kane (41 page)

“Yet you didn’t realize it then.”

“No,” Slayde admitted. “I suppose, as Scollard said, I had to clear my mind of the shadows that obstructed my sight in order to see what was truly there, not what I chose to see.”

“He’s a wonderful man, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s also worried sick about you.” Slayde sifted his fingers through Courtney’s hair. “So am I. Every reference he made led back to the fact that the danger lies at Pembourne. And not only as far as the traitor we’re harboring—although Scollard did sense that bastard’s clawing fear—but as far as our main quarry as well. Scollard kept using phrases such as Outside—heartlessness and obsession haunting your doorstep’ and ‘ruthlessness hovers at its portals.’ Again, given that I believed Morland was the culprit, I assumed those references were to his drunken visit to Pembourne, his intentions to return. But now, with Morland eliminated as a suspect, we have to view Mr. Scollard’s insights in a new light.”

Courtney paled. “You believe that whoever’s at the helm of these horrible crimes is close by?”

Slayde studied Courtney’s frightened face, torn between his innate compulsion to protect her, which urged him to lie in order to assuage her fears, and his love for her, which commanded that he speak the truth. In the end, there was no choice. “Yes. I do.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones. “But I also believe that scoundrel’s downfall is imminent, thanks to the plan you and Aurora conjured up.” A sudden memory flashed through Slayde’s mind, spawning a glimmer of comprehension. “What’s more, Mr. Scollard believes the same.”

“He told you that?”

“Indirectly. What he said was that wits, not pistols, would be my true weapon.” A discerning grin. “What he failed to mention was that the wits involved would be yours.”

Over a hundred servants crowded Pembourne’s ballroom, the only room large enough to hold so vast a number of people. Most of them shifted nervously, murmuring among themselves about the possible reasons for Lord Pembourne’s request that they gather here after breakfast.

Undetected, Slayde surveyed the room from the hallway. “Do you understand what I expect of you?” he muttered to Cutterton.

“Of course, sir,” Cutterton said quietly. “Mathers and I will support your story. We’ll concur that we found the note yesterday, and advised you to take instantaneous action. As for our immediate responsibility, we’ll distribute the writing materials and collect the handwriting samples—after we’ve publicly advised Miss Johnston that her participation in this task is mandatory.”

“Excellent.” Slayde shot Cutterton a grateful look. “I know you haven’t a clue why I’m doing this. I hope I’ll be able to fill you in soon. In the interim, I appreciate your cooperation.”

“That’s my job, sir.” Cutterton’s gaze flickered to the left and he gave a terse nod. “Mathers is here with the paper and writing implements.”

“Good. Then let’s proceed.” Slayde turned to Courtney, who was standing beside him, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Come, love,” he said softly, extending his hand. “We have an announcement to make.”

“Yes, my lord.” She placed her hand in his. “Indeed we do.”

A hush fell over the group as their master entered, Miss Johnston by his side.

Courtney looked from one face to the other, pained by the apprehension she saw reflected there. Many of these people had cared for her, nursed her back to health, and, in the process, become like family to her—especially Siebert and Matilda, who stood near the front, their worried gazes softening with affection as they met hers. For their sakes—for
all
their sakes—she prayed this nightmare would soon end.

As Slayde cleared his throat to speak, Courtney’s eyes met Aurora’s, and she smiled at the vivid excitement revealed in the turquoise depths. Not an ounce of fear, she noted. Not her Aurora. Only joy at Slayde’s and her impending marriage, and exhilaration at what Aurora was convinced was the greatest and soon-to-be most successful scheme of all time.

“First, let me thank you all for taking time away from your duties,” Slayde began. His brows drew together as he sought just the right words to convey his announcement. “Many of you have been with my family for years, yet doubtless view me not as a resident of Pembourne, but as an infrequent and short-term visitor. ’Tis no secret why. I’ve spent little of my life within these walls—especially since my parents were killed a decade ago, after which Pembourne became only a hollow chasm of pain and anguish. Thus, it’s been anything but a home—not for me or, I suspect, for many of you.” A meaningful glance at Aurora. “Certainly not for my sister, who spends half her life trying to flee from it.”

A few of the servants coughed uneasily.

“Last month, a young woman came into our lives who, in a very short time, has managed to accomplish what I could not: she’s made Pembourne feel like a home and its occupants like a family.” His fingers tightened around Courtney’s. “We all owe Miss Johnston an incredible debt—most especially, I.

“In the true spirit of the family she’s helped to create, I’ve summoned you all here this morning to share some wonderful news. Pembourne’s transformation, and mine, are destined to endure, thanks to the extraordinary gift Miss Johnston has agreed to bestow upon me—that being her hand in marriage.” A murmur went up from the crowd, and Slayde turned to Courtney, his expression tender. “I’m proud to announce that Miss Courtney Johnston will soon become Mrs. Slayde Huntley, the Countess of Pembourne…my wife.”

Unanimous, enthusiastic applause erupted.

Courtney blinked, staring from one beaming face to the other, tears stinging her eyes at the unexpectedly fervent response. She’d anticipated polite approval, in some cases pleasure, but exuberance such as this? It was humbling.

“Thank you,” she managed, her voice lost in the din.

Aurora rushed forward, embracing both her brother and future sister-in-law, her own eyes damp.

“Why are you crying?” Courtney laughed through her tears. “You already knew.”

“So did you,” Aurora retorted. “Yet you’re crying.”

“Please wait,” Slayde called out loudly, holding up his palm. “Unfortunately, there is another, more sobering matter I need to address before any celebrating takes place.”

The clapping quieted, then ceased, apprehension once again swelling to fill the room.

“As I just mentioned, Lady Aurora is notorious for her attempts to escape Pembourne.”

“Oh, but Slayde,” Aurora inserted on cue, “all that will change now that Courtney’s—”

“Nevertheless,” he interrupted, “it’s come to my attention that, over the past few days, someone at Pembourne has been assisting her in her attempts to outwit the guards.” Slayde clasped his hands behind his back, his bold silver-gray stare sweeping the room. “This is not mere speculation. I have proof of my claim. What I now ask is for the guilty party to step forward and admit what he or she has done. If that party complies, he or she will be firmly dealt with, but not dismissed. Otherwise…” Slayde left the rest of his sentence hanging. Jaw set, he waited.

Seconds ticked by.

“No one is willing to claim responsibility for this?” he pressed.

Silence.

“Very well, then there is but one other way to achieve my end.” Half turning, Slayde gestured for Mathers to enter. “Mr. Mathers will be handing each one of you a blank sheet of paper. Once that’s been done, I will read to you the contents of a note left for Aurora by her accomplice at the rear door of the manor. You will pen the sentence precisely as I read it. When each of you has completed that task, you will hand your paper to Cutterton, who will place a number on your page and make a corresponding entry on a list that I alone will keep. After all the pages are collected, I will retire to my study, where I will compare each of your hands with that on the note. When I find a match, I’ll have what I need. Are there any questions?”

One stableboy raised his hand nervously. “Pardon me, m’lord, but I can’t write.”

“Those of you who can’t write are excused. Please check with Mr. Cutterton at the door and he will make note of that fact for the list.” A muscle flexed in Slayde’s jaw. “I strongly suggest the guilty party does not feign the inability to write as a means of evading his task. I have files on every person I hire. I intend to verify who can and cannot read and write.” A weighty pause. “In the interim, Mathers, you can begin.”

Twenty minutes later, there were half the number of people in the room as there had been initially, and each of the remaining occupants held a sheet of paper and a quill.

Cutterton left the doorway and approached Courtney, signaling to Mathers to join them. “Forgive me, Miss Johnston,” he said, “but I must ask you to participate as well.”

Courtney’s jaw dropped. “I?”

“Yes.” Cutterton turned to Slayde and explained. “I apologize for embarrassing your betrothed, sir. But I must be thorough. And Miss Johnston is Lady Aurora’s closest friend, constant companion, and most willing cohort. I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask her to take part in this exercise.”

“Really, Cutterton…” Slayde began.

“It’s all right.” Courtney waved away Slayde’s protest, her chin held high. “If Mr. Cutterton feels it necessary, I’m more than willing to participate.” She extended her hand to Mathers.

“You’re sure?” Slayde asked her quietly.

“Perfectly sure.” She accepted the paper and quill. “As you yourself just said, Pembourne has become my home and its occupants my family. There should be no doubts or deception between us.”

“Very well. Then we’re ready to begin.”

“Slayde,” Aurora protested, “how could you ask Courtney…”

“You
are excused,” Slayde pronounced. “Please retire to your chambers at once.”

Aurora stared at him in a show of disbelief. Her mouth opened and closed once, twice. Then she gathered up her skirts and fled.

“As I was saying,” Slayde continued, “we can now begin. Each of you pen the following phrase: ‘Use this door for coming and going.’ ”

Dutifully, the servants complied.

Slayde waited until they were all staring at him once more. “You’re all free to return to your duties,” he said. “Hand your papers to Cutterton as you leave the room. Oh, and one other thing. If the person responsible should experience a change of heart and decide to confess, I’ll be in my study. If not, I’ll eventually be sending for you.” Pointedly, Slayde surveyed the room. “Thank you all. Once this incident is behind us, we can begin the more joyful task of planning a wedding.”

The servants came forward, turning in their papers, some nervous, others matter-of-fact. Siebert bowed and congratulated Courtney and Slayde, his pleasure warm and genuine. Miss Payne offered her congratulations as well, although, Courtney noticed with amusement, she couldn’t quite meet their gazes after what she perceived as last night’s indiscretion. Matilda harbored no such reservations. She stepped over, squeezing Courtney’s hands and beaming ear to ear. “I’m so thrilled for you,” she murmured. “I wish you all the happiness you and Lord Pembourne deserve.”

“Thank you,” Courtney whispered, her throat tight with emotion. “Matilda—” She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, not before everyone was exonerated, but she just couldn’t help herself. Matilda was innocent. No one could convince her otherwise. “When all this is over, when Slayde and I are married…” Courtney swallowed. “Would you do me the honor of staying on, not just at Pembourne, but with me? As I understand it, a countess requires a lady’s maid. And, while I know I’ll be terribly difficult to train, given all the years offending for myself, I can think of no one better equipped with the necessary love and patience to tackle the job. Nor anyone I’d rather have beside me. Would you consider it?”

Tears gathered in Matilda’s eyes. “ ’Twould be an honor, Miss Courtney.”

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Cutterton interjected, stepping over to address Matilda. “Your paper?”

Matilda dabbed at her eyes. “Of course, sir. Here.” She presented it, giving Courtney’s arm another squeeze before hastening off.

“Don’t bellow at me, Cutterton,” Courtney muttered, seeing his disapproving frown. “Else I truly will help Aurora by telling her about the half-dozen escape routes I’ve discerned from my bedroom window—routes even she has yet to find and try.” Courtney inclined her head at Cutterton, smiling at the stunned expression on his face. “I think you and I are going to get on famously, don’t you?”

“I think you and Aurora are going to have to conduct classes for my investigative and security staff.” Slayde’s dry retort came from just behind her.

Courtney whirled about to face him, noting that the room was now empty. “Is it time?”

“Yes.” A scowl. “I still don’t like the idea of your accompanying me to such a seedy section of Dartmouth.”

“Slayde—don’t.” She lay her hand on his forearm. “We’ve come too far for this. I need to be there. Besides, Oridge’s message said everything is under control. He’s keeping our friend company until we arrive.”

A terse nod. “All right. Let’s go.” He turned to Cutterton. “You’ll post yourself outside my study?”

“Yes, sir. So far as everyone will know, you’re closeted within.”

“Good. Given the circumstances, I don’t anticipate any visitors.”

“Understood. Now let me ensure that your path is clear and that you and Miss Johnston can reach the phaeton we concealed around back without being detected. Oh,” Cutterton added, “you asked me to advise you when Mr. Rayburn had taken his leave. He did so about an hour ago.”

“Thank you.” Slayde pondered the charts he’d given Rayburn at dawn, praying that one of the six inlets he’d mapped out would lead them to Courtney’s father.

“Slayde?” Courtney touched his hand. “Don’t look so troubled. I know Mr. Rayburn is investigating other avenues, perhaps even dangerous ones. But I have the utmost faith in him, whatever the challenge.”

“So do I, sweetheart.” Slayde pressed his lips to her forehead, reiterating his silent prayer. “So do I.”

Grimes leaned back in his chair, rubbing a dirty hand across the stubble on his chin. “I’ve been lookin’ at these for an hour,” he complained. “And none of ’em has matched up.” He picked up the original note, now neatly folded so only the message—not the date or sketch—was revealed. “What’s on the other side of this, anyway?”