“Actually, I found them quite fascinating. Why?”
“I was only wondering if perhaps that was the reason you disliked your trips aboard the Isobel.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Very well, then; was it the food you so detested?”
Courtney’s lips curved. “In truth, the meals served at Madame La Salle’s Boarding School were far more apt to cause fatal illness than those served aboard the Isobel. I also had less privacy, more restrictions, and far more unsavory companions at school than at sea. No, ’twas none of those things that deterred me.”
“I’m mystified, then. What caused you to loathe sea travel?”
“The fact that the moment the ship left the wharf, I became violently seasick and remained so for the duration of each and every trip. Which, incidentally, is why I spent so much time in my cabin. ’Tis difficult to walk about the deck with your head in a chamber pot.”
Laughter rumbled in Slayde’s chest. “I should think it would be.”
“I truly hoped I’d outgrow the weakness with time,” Courtney murmured ruefully. “But after twenty years, that possibility seems unlikely.”
“Twenty. Is that how old you’re turning next month?”
“Yes.”
The lighthearted moment vanished as ugly memories lanced Slayde’s heart like a knife. “I was only a year older than that when my parents died.”
Tilting back her head, Courtney studied his expression. Then, tentatively, she reached up, her fingers brushing his jaw. “I can’t begin to imagine how agonizing that must have been. At least I was spared seeing Papa—” She broke off, drew a sharp, unsteady breath.
“I was the one who found them,” Slayde replied tonelessly. “I returned to Pembourne late that night. I knew something was amiss when I found the front door slightly ajar. They were in the library on the floor. They’d been run through by a sword. The whole area surrounding them was covered in blood. No matter how many years go by, I’ll never forget that image. It’s ingrained in my mind forever.”
“The authorities never unearthed the murderer?”
“They stopped looking as swiftly as they possibly could. Officially, the crime was declared the unfortunate result of a burglary, since the strongbox containing my mother’s jewels was missing. That was the official report. The truth is another story entirely.” Seeing Courtney’s puzzled expression, he stated flatly, “To be blunt, Bow Street was terrified. Lest your father have neglected to mention it, the world believed—believes,” Slayde amended in a bitter tone, “that the Huntleys are condemned to an eternity of hell. A hell spawned by some bizarre, nonexistent curse, one that is perpetuated by the very greed of those who seek its source.”
“The black diamond.”
“Yes. The black diamond.”
“Slayde—” Courtney’s voice was soft, her fingers gentle on his face. “You’ve understood—and eased—my pain. Let me ease yours. Share it with me.”
That familiar wall went up. “That won’t be necessary. My parents were killed over a decade ago. I’ve long since come to grips with the pain.”
“Have you?”
Their gazes locked—and the wall toppled.
“My great-grandfather and Geoffrey Bencroft were partners in a joint venture.” Slayde was astounded to hear the story emerge from his lips. “Their quest was to locate the world’s largest black diamond, stolen centuries earlier from a sacred temple in India and never recovered. Once it was found, their intentions were to deliver the gem to a Russian prince who was offering an outrageous fortune in exchange for the diamond. Dozens of mercenaries had already tried—and failed—to find the stone. My great-grandfather and the late duke were determined to succeed, and they agreed that after they had, they would divide the fortune equally. The only dark cloud threatening their crusade was the mythical curse accompanying the stone, a curse that, according to legend, went ‘He with a black heart who touches the jewel will reap eternal wealth, while becoming the carrion upon whom, for all eternity, others will feed.’ ”
Courtney shivered. “How menacing. Papa never relayed the exact wording of the curse. All he told me was that your great-grandfather supposedly returned to England without the Duke of Morland, but with the stone. And that your family has endured the consequences of the curse ever since.”
“I don’t believe in curses,” Slayde bit out. “Only in those who perpetuate them, and those who effect them by virtue of their greed.”
“You think whoever killed your parents wanted the diamond for the wealth they’d derive from it?”
“Of course. ’Twas no secret that the jewel is worth a king’s ransom. Nor that my great-grandfather was the last known man to possess it, and that he never delivered it to the Russian prince. The mystery was, where did he hide the stone? That, no one knew. So, for four generations, thieves and barbarians have done all they could—including commit murder—to uncover the whereabouts of the wretched gem.”
“Did your great-grandfather die before he could tell anyone the truth?”
“Yes. According to my father, he died less than a week after returning to England.”
“How?” Courtney murmured. “How did he die?”