The Black Diamond (6 page)

"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?"

"I haven't a clue." Courtney pursed her lips, considering the possible reasons for this inconceivable visit. "Let's give him time to state his business to Slayde. Then I'll go down and find out."

Chapter 3

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J
ulian strolled the width of the marble entranceway, hands clasped behind his back as he awaited the return of the Pembourne butler. The servant had been blatantly rude, he reflected with a twinge of amusement. Oh, not at first. Not until Julian had announced himself. But once he'd heard the name Bencroft, the prim fellow had gone rigid, informing Julian that the earl was a very busy man and doubtless would be unable to see an unexpected guest. Then with a frosty glare, he'd stalked off to announce Julian's arrival.

The question was, was the butler's flagrant disapproval based on what he'd doubtless overheard about last night's scandal with Aurora or did it stem from the mere fact that Julian was a Bencroft? More to the point, how heavily steeped in age-old hatred was Pembourne's staff and, most particularly, was its master?

Pensively Julian contemplated that thought. He scarcely knew Slayde Huntley. They'd crossed paths at
Oxford
and more recently at White's, on those rare occasions when Julian's sporadic journeys back to English soil corresponded with Slayde's equally infrequent trips home. It seemed the two of them were both wanderers, loners plagued by the past's grim echoes.

Echoes that incited them, whether out of an innate sense of unease or a desire to escape all reminders of an unrelenting past, to avoid each other, never sharing more than a cursory nod or a fleeting word.

Except when Hugh died.

Julian could still recall the genuine sorrow on Slayde's face when he'd approached Julian at the university, offered his sympathy—despite, and in full view of, the stunned, prying stares of their fellow classmates, many of whom half believed in the existence of the black diamond's ancient curse and thus entertained the possibility that the Huntleys were responsible for Hugh's death.

Slayde's act had been a courageous one. One that showed character and decency, as well as compassion.

One that Julian would never forget.

But thirteen years had passed since Hugh's death—years laced with unspeakable tragedy. How much had that tragedy transformed Slayde and his outlook?

The answer to that question would dictate the tenor of this meeting, one Julian was becoming increasingly eager to hold.

Veering about, he inclined his head in the direction Pembourne's butler had taken, half-tempted to abandon protocol and simply strike off on his own to search the corridor until he found whichever room Slayde was occupying. But no—he'd wait. For while he was determined to accomplish his goal, that goal would be far easier to attain if he were granted an audience rather than compelled to force his way in.

On the heels of that decision, the butler's returning footsteps sounded, and an instant later the disapproving servant reappeared. "His Lordship will see you."

It sounded more like a death sentence than an invitation, Julian noted, smiling wryly to himself. "Lead the way."

He followed the manservant down a long corridor and into a mahogany-furnished study.

Slayde Huntley rose slowly from behind his desk. He looked coiled, ready to strike—yet beneath his eyes were shadows of fatigue, and lines of worry tightened his mouth. "I thought Siebert was mistaken when he announced the name of my visitor," he began. "I see I was wrong."

"T
hank
you for seeing me, Pembourne," Julian replied. "Graciously or not."

"The question is, why am I seeing you? I must be insane."

"Or perhaps only curious."

Siebert interrupted with a haughty sniff. "As no refreshment is required, I'll return to my post, sir," he declared, tossing Julian another icy stare before retracing his steps from the study.

A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "Your staff is loyal."

"They have reason to be."

"I'm curious about your butler—Siebert, did you say his name was?—about Siebert's animosity. Does it stem from outrage over last night's indiscretion or a fundamental hatred for the Bencrofts?"

"Perhaps some of both." Slayde gripped the edge of his desk. "Why are you here, Morland?"

Without the slightest show of discomfort, Julian crossed over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of
Madeira
. "Would you like one?"

"No."

Taking a healthy swallow, Julian leaned back against the sideboard, watching Slayde and gauging his reaction. "Before I begin, let me state my position on a less than pleasant topic—one we've always carefully avoided, as we've avoided each other. I've never subscribed to this timeless war between our families. I never intend to. I'm not sure where you stand on the issue. I know you despised my grandfather and, to a lesser extent, my father. But am I correct in assuming that prior to what happened last night, you had nothing against me personally?"

Slayde's brooding stare darkened. "I'm not certain how to answer that. No, I had nothing against you personally—until last night. However, that doesn't mean I ever forgot you were Lawrence Bencroft's son."

Julian had expected nothing less. "Regardless of that fact, I'd appreciate you putting aside your hostility long enough to hear me out."

A muscle worked in Slayde's jaw. "You ask a great deal, Morland. Your father's lying accusations have once again thrown my life into chaos and my family into danger. I'm fighting to keep them safe. And just when I'd ensured
Aurora
's future, she ran off to stage her own ruin. Her defiler? The last remaining Bencroft, the very man whose family has sought to destroy mine for nearly a century. So you'll forgive me if I'm a bit less than hospitable. As for hearing you out, I'll do so only because
Aurora
tells me you didn't realize her identity any more than she did yours. Nevertheless, be aware that after you've had your say, I intend to call you out. Not because you're a Bencroft, but because you're an immoral blackguard."

"Fair enough." With an unruffled nod, Julian tossed off his
Madeira
. "You do realize, however, that you'd be providing gossips such as Lady Altec with precisely the ammunition they seek."

"I doubt they could hurt
Aurora
any more than she's already hurt herself."

"I suppose that's true. Still, a duel won't be necessary."

"I disagree. Now, name the time and place."

"The time? As soon as possible. The place? Any church will suffice. Even Pembourne's chapel, if you prefer."

"You want to duel in a chapel?" Slayde asked incredulously.

"No, I want to marry your sister in a chapel."

Slayde's breath expelled in a rush. "What did you say?"

"I think I made myself clear. I've come to offer for
Aurora
. Is that so surprising? I am, after all, the man who ruined her for the Viscount…?" Julian inclined his head quizzically. "Who was she to marry, anyway?"

"Guillford," Slayde supplied automatically, his expression a picture of stunned disbelief.

"Guillford?" Julian gave a derisive snort, shaking his head and prowling restlessly about the room. "No wonder
Aurora
was so eager to free herself. Guillford is a pleasant enough fellow—I've shared many a game of whist with him—but he's about as exciting as an unpainted canvas. Surely you realize how wrong he is for your sister."

"Morland, have you lost your bloody mind?" Slayde seemed to recover himself all at once. "Or is this your idea of some cruel and vicious joke?"

"I don't joke about my life, Pembourne." Julian stalked over to the desk, leaning forward to confront Slayde head-on. "Neither do I forsake my responsibilities—at least those I deem worth shouldering. Surprised? Don't be. The truth is, you don't know a bloody thing about me or about my principles. All you know is whatever you've convinced yourself are 'Bencroft' traits. Now let's get to
Aurora
. You're concerned over her future, and with good reason. Most of the
ton's
suitable gentlemen are either married or terrified by the very name of Huntley. And once Lady Altec has spread her news—as I hear she does remarkably well—the final few potential suitors will vanish like the mist. Which reminds me, has the oh-so-proper Viscount Guillford cried off yet? If not, I'm sure he will the very instant his driver can rush him to Pembourne Manor. Now, let's see.
Aurora
is how old—nearly one and twenty? I fear her marital prospects look bleak."

Anger slashed Slayde's features. "So you're here to sacrifice yourself? How noble. And how unbelievable. What do you really want—to taunt me?"

"No. I want
Aurora
. I wanted her the minute I saw her. Before I knew she was a Huntley. Before I even knew what the hell she was doing in Dawlish's. She's a beautiful, captivating woman. One whom, for the record, I had no intentions of bedding last night. Nor, by the way, did she ask me to. On the contrary, she made her innocence a well-known fact from the start. All she wanted was to disentangle herself from an unwanted betrothal."

Slayde's color had returned and he was watching Julian with a guarded expression. "You really mean this, don't you?"

"Yes. Now the question is, are you going to forbid the marriage because I'm a Bencroft? If so, you're a fool. I'm not my father, nor am I my grandfather. I walked out of that house six years ago for a reason. I never intended to return. But circumstances altered that decision. So I'm here—for now."

"For now. How comforting. After which you'll be off again, roaming the globe, I presume."

"In time, yes."

"And what will
Aurora
do? Be imprisoned at Morland? She's miserable enough doing that here, and Pembourne is her home."

An unexpected grin tugged at Julian's lips. "If my suspicions about
Aurora
are correct, she'll be dashing about the world at my side."

"Don't look so damned smug.
Aurora
would accompany the devil himself in order to experience a life of adventure."

Julian's eyes glinted. "I'm sure you're right. Fortunately I'm not the devil. Moreover, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I don't think
Aurora
's accompanying me would be inspired solely by her desire for adventure. Your sister was as intrigued by me as I was by her. And if you're about to ask how I know that—don't. You won't like the answer."

Slayde's hands balled into fists. "You bastard."

"Unfortunately not. I'm a Bencroft. But that's already been too well established." Julian's goblet struck the desk with a purposeful thud. "Look, Pembourne. I'll give you a wealth of reasons why you should consider my offer. First, I happen to be the man Aurora approached—the man who eventually helped ruin her. Second, better than anyone, I know the ramifications of the black diamond's ludicrous curse. Hordes of scoundrels are hell-bent on finding the stone—using whatever means they have to. You want
Aurora
gone from Pembourne, safely taken care of. She would be. To begin with, she'd no longer be a Huntley. Thus, she'd no longer be a target for thieves—or worse. Further, let me assure you that no one, I repeat
no one
, for whom I'm responsible is ever harmed. I vow to you that as my wife Aurora will be fully protected at all times—by me. Safety will cease to be an issue. On to financial security. My father squandered his money. I did not. I'm wealthy enough to offer
Aurora
any luxury she might want. I can also bestow upon her the elevated title of duchess—albeit accompanied by the name Morland." Julian arched a brow. "Think about what a delightful upheaval we'd cause. After all these years, merging our families. That alone would make it worthwhile, even if it weren't for the splendid reasons I just enumerated."

"What about
Aurora
's wishes?" Slayde demanded. "Where do those fit in?"

"They didn't seem to concern you when you arranged her betrothal to Guillford."