Legacy of the Diamond (Black Diamond 1)

“You still had—have”—Slayde corrected himself—“Julian.”

A harsh laugh. “Julian? Don’t insult me, Pembour

ne. You know very well my younger son hasn’t returned to Morland Manor in years. He has as little use for me as I do for him. He’s my grandfather all over again: irresponsible, self-centered, always abandoning his duties to dash off on one adventure or another. Hardly someone for a father to rely upon in his old age. Hubert was my life, my future. And because of the Huntleys, he’s dead.”

“Hugh died from a fever, not a curse.”

“I disagree. Every heinous incident that’s plagued my family began the day your great-grandfather stole that black diamond and kept it, rather than delivering it as he and my grandfather had originally promised. That piracy spawned a curse that, unless the wrongs he committed are rectified, will poison our lives forever.”

“Rectified?” Slayde leaped on Morland’s pointed statement, perceiving the chance to elicit the confession he’d come for. “Is that what you’re in the process of doing—rectifying the past to obliterate the curse?”

“You’re talking in riddles again.”

“Am I? Then I’ll be direct. What incited you to relinquish your seclusion?”

A shrug. “Perhaps it was the realization that I’m getting old, the desire to seize whatever fragments of my life are left. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is my concern. Because, you see, I’ve had some interesting chats with the village merchants this morning.” Slayde pressed on with his charade. “As well as with your solicitor and your banker. It seems that you’ve been conducting a little financial business of late, discussing some upcoming investments and reallocation of funds. Quite impressive for a man of supposedly paltry means. One would almost think you were coming into money—a great deal of money. Of course, that would be impossible for a man with only an estranged son for family and no dealings with the world, wouldn’t it?”

Morland’s fist struck a side table. “How dare you intrude into my affairs!”

“In this case, they’re my affairs, as well.” Slayde went in for the kill. “Because the crime you committed to procure your new-found wealth was a crime against me—and one that affected the lives of innocent people. Don’t even consider absolving yourself with the fact that it was your accomplice who carried out the sordid plan. You invented it. Through your orders, that filthy pirate blackmailed me, captured a ship, killed its captain, and severely wounded his daughter. All of which I’ve vowed to avenge.” Slayde’s eyes glittered dangerously. “And being the callous animal you’ve accused me of being, I’ll begin by thrashing a confession out of you.”

Rather than shrinking in terror, Morland seemed to visibly relax, the pulse in his throat slowing to normal. “In other words, with regard to whoever’s orchestrated this crime you’re raving about, you have no proof.”

Damn the bastard for being sober. “How much are you getting for the diamond, Morland?” Slayde demanded in a final attempt to render Lawrence off balance, to pressure him into letting some small detail slip. “How much did you pay that pirate to get it?”

Morland’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me the stone is missing? The stone whose whereabouts you supposedly never knew?”

“You know damned well it’s missing. I turned it over to your cohort in exchange for the woman I thought was Aurora. And, incidentally, that woman—the captain’s daughter—is staying at my home. Because of you, she’s injured and orphaned. So for her sake and mine, you can begin by telling me where I can find your accomplice. I have a score to settle with him.” A lethal pause. “I have an even bigger one to settle with you.”

“Well, you won’t be settling it today,” Lawrence said icily. “Because I have nothing to tell you. I applaud the fine work done by this pirate—whoever he might be—but I fear I’ve never met the man, much less ordered him to extort the diamond from you. However, when you find him, let me know. I’d like to be the first to offer my congratulations—and to convince him to restore the stone to the royal family who paid for its recovery. Then perhaps my luck really will change.” In a sudden, impatient gesture, Morland extracted his timepiece, cast a swift glance at it. “I fear your ten minutes are up. Further, since I am—according to your own intrusive investigations—a busy man, and since I’ve only just walked through my own entranceway…”

“From where?” Slayde interrupted, seizing the unanticipated opportunity Morland had just provided. “That was to be my next question. Where is it you just returned from? Not the village; I’ve just come from there, spoken with all your colleagues. So precisely where did you go and with whom did you meet?”

The pulse in Morland’s throat accelerated again. “Get out, Pembourne.”

“What’s the matter? Did I strike too close to the truth? ’Tis an innocent enough question. When put to an innocent man, that is.”

Morland flung open the library door and stepped out, just as Thayer and four footmen approached. Gesturing for the butler to proceed with fulfilling his orders, Morland turned his frigid stare on Slayde. “Get out,” he ordered. “Now. Of your own volition or with the aid of my staff. Either way, this conversation is at an end. Permanently. You’re never to set foot in my home again. Is that clear?”

Unmoving, Slayde glared back, hate coursing through his blood like an untamed river. “Very clear. As is the answer you’ve just provided. You were meeting with that pirate, weren’t you? Paying for his services. Has he given you the diamond yet?”

Shaking with rage, Morland turned and stalked down the hall

This time, Slayde moved. Reaching the doorway, he shoved by the unsettled servants, calling out, “Don’t become too complacent, Morland. I’ll see you in Newgate yet.”

A bitter laugh. “And I’ll see you in hell, Pembourne.”

Chapter 6

COURTNEY WAS SITTING IN a chair by the window, pushing a half-eaten scone about on her plate, when Slayde’s phaeton rounded the drive. Instantly, she tensed, fingers gripping the chair arms as she fought the impulse to dash from her bedchamber and down the stairs in order to learn what information Slayde had wrested from the Duke of Morland. Pragmatism restrained her. If she reaggravated her wounds now, Lord alone knew how long she’d be bedridden. And whatever she intended to do—based on Slayde’s findings—it didn’t include being an invalid.

Impatiently, she shifted in her seat, wondering why it was taking Slayde an eternity to alight from his carriage and make his way to the second floor.

What if he weren’t coming directly to her chambers?

That untenable possibility incited action.