“Come in,” Aurora called out. Her eyes brightened when she saw who her visitor was. “Oh, Courtney!” She jumped to her feet. “I’m so glad you’re able to join us. At long last, I can introduce you to Elinore.”
The elegant woman seated alongside Aurora rose, a smile of welcome on her face. “Miss Johnston, I’m delighted. Aurora has spoken of you with such enthusiasm.”
“As she has of you,” Courtney reciprocated, feeling suddenly shy. Lady Stanwyk was not at all the plump, gray-haired, motherly figure she’d expected. She was exquisite: all rose-colored silk and glittering jewels, her dark hair upswept and curled just so, her demeanor polished, regal.
“Please, dear, sit down and have some tea.” Evidently, the viscountess sensed her unease, for she beckoned Courtney in, pouring a cup of tea and offering it to her along with a plate of scones. “Aurora has been filling me in on the past week’s dreadful events. Please accept my condolences. Your loss must be very painful. Not to mention how difficult today must have been, between answering endless questions and reliving your harrowing experience. I appreciate the fact that you were kind enough to join us when I’m sure you’d much rather be abed.”
“I…thank you.” Courtney accepted the proffered refreshment, lowering herself gratefully to the settee. Beneath Lady Stanwyk’s warmth and compassion, she could feel
her shyness wane. “Actually, I’m glad for the company. When Siebert found me, I was contemplating what to do, given that I felt too drained to do much of anything, yet far too awake to lie down. Tea and pleasant conversation are precisely what I need.”
“Perfect,” Aurora proclaimed. “Because tea and pleasant conversation are precisely what Elinore and I are indulging in.” Helping herself to another scone, she sat down beside Courtney. “Elinore received my missive. She was generous enough, as always, to respond immediately.”
“I had no idea what was transpiring at Pembourne, else I would have been here sooner.” The viscountess resettled herself and took up her cup, sipping her tea gracefully. “I’m still having trouble digesting all this. When Slayde said he’d received ransom notes during your absence, I had no idea he meant anything of this magnitude.”
“Why would you?” Aurora turned to Courtney. “We get threatening letters on a steady basis. Or rather, we did,” she corrected herself, relief evident in her every word. “Because of that wretched black diamond. Thank God it’s gone.”
Courtney felt a stab of guilt, one she firmly squelched by reminding herself that Slayde’s deception had been effected with Aurora’s well-being in mind. “I can understand your feelings.”
“And I can understand why that dreadful pirate chose your father’s ship to attack,” Elinore put in, studying Courtney before glancing briefly at Aurora. “There is a striking resemblance between the two of you. A cursory one, to be sure. But more than enough to fool Slayde on a dark night at sea. The poor man must have been beside himself. No wonder he was so irate when we arrived home from London.”
“Speaking of London…” Aurora leaned forward. “That brings us to the reason for my missive. Elinore, I awaited Courtney’s arrival to address the subject, because we have an important question to ask you—one that affects Courtney as much, if not more, than it does me. I pray your answer will help shed some light on whoever, if anyone, was working with this Armon.” Elinore’s brow furrowed. “Of course, anything. How can I help you?”
Aurora sighed. “At the risk of bringing up a sore point, it concerns my trip to London—the one you and I just made.”
“What about it?”
“During the fortnight we were making our arrangements, do you recall discussing them with anyone? Or if not discussing them, mentioning the possibility that I might be arriving in Town?”
An affectionate gleam lit Elinore’s eyes. “Of course I mentioned it. I was far too excited to keep the news to myself. Further, how else would I ensure the deluge of invitations that awaited us upon our arrival? When Lady Southington and Lady Hucknell came to tea the previous week, I made certain they understood the situation—how important it was for the right people to include us on their guest lists. After all, this was your first trip to London; I wanted it to be everything you craved. I emphasized that very thing to my staff when I assigned two dozen of them to go on ahead and open the town house. I wanted everything perfect for you: your room, your social calendar.” Seeing Aurora slump down on the sofa, Elinore paused, the sparkle extinguished from her eyes. “I assume that’s not what you wanted to hear.”
“No,” Aurora replied. “But the fault lies with me, not you. I never told you I intended the trip to be kept secret—most probably, because I wanted just the opposite: for the ton to welcome me with open arms. In truth, I’d have been thrilled if the whole bloody world knew—so long as Slayde didn’t.”
Elinore gave her a stern, measured look. “Then Slayde was right. You really did intend to go without his knowledge.”
“No, I intended to ride off without his knowledge,” Aurora corrected. “And to travel too far for him to drag me back. After which I assumed he’d find the note I left him and accept my decision, however unwillingly. Had I any clue…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m not sure I understand your line of thinking.” Elinore shook her head in puzzlement.
“Forgive me, Lady Stanwyk,” Courtney put in. “All this is my idea. I wondered if perhaps someone else was involved in Aurora’s feigned kidnapping, someone who learned ahead of time that she’d be in London and therefore arranged with Armon to send the notes and seize the Isobel during her absence.”
“I see.” Comprehension dawned on Elinore’s face. “And you were hoping I could shed some light on who that someone else might be.”
“Exactly.”
Aurora shook her head in disgust. “The answer to that is any one of five hundred people, thanks to me.”
“Stop it.” Courtney squeezed Aurora’s arm. “You had no way of knowing about Armon or his plan. You were simply planning a pleasurable trip with the viscountess.”
“I, too, feel dreadful,” Elinore murmured, lowering her cup and saucer to the table.
“Please don’t blame yourself, my lady,” Courtney said. “Neither you nor Aurora did anything wrong. I didn’t expect this avenue to lead us anywhere; the whole idea was farfetched. I merely wanted to leave no stone unturned. The last thing I wish is for the two of you to feel guilty. So, please, let’s just drop the subject. All right?”
“All right.” For a moment, Elinore fell silent, assessing Courtney’s dejected state. “I have a suggestion,” she said at last. “ ’Tis late, and you’re exhausted. Why don’t I return tomorrow and the three of us can spend a lovely afternoon together. In fact, I’ll speak to your cook and ask her to prepare a picnic lunch. We’ll sit in the garden, eat, chat, and relax. How does that sound?”
Courtney felt her last filaments of shyness evaporate. “Thank you, my lady. Aurora didn’t exaggerate when she spoke of your kindness.”
“Then perhaps you’ll agree to call me Elinore. As I intend to call you Courtney. This way, I’ll feel you’re not only Aurora’s friend, but mine as well.”