His fingers tightened around hers. “How did you get by that sentry, Thayer?”
Courtney braced herself. “I implied I’d been…sent.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “To tend to the duke’s needs.”
Slayde’s head whipped around. “ ‘The duke’s needs,’ ” he repeated in utter disbelief. “You masqueraded as a…”
“Yes,” she interrupted hastily. “More or less. Morland seemed pleased enough, until he learned my true purpose in coming.”
“I’m sure he did.” Slayde looked positively stricken. “I don’t know whether to shake you senseless, applaud you, or simply thank God that you escaped unscathed.”
“I’m not partial to the first choice. A combination of the second and third would be lovely.”
Groaning, Slayde pulled her to him, pressed her head to his chest. “You’re aging me. Miracles aren’t supposed to do that.”
She smiled, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. “I love you. Miracles are supposed to do that.”
She felt him tense. God, she prayed silently, let me help him. Let me heal him so we can have our future. Please.
“I found Grimes.”
Drawing back, Courtney studied Slayde’s taut expression. “And?”
“And he did his damnedest to avoid me. I literally had to corner him in his disgusting excuse for an establishment, then grab him as he tried to get by me.”
Courtney sat up straight. “Then he was Armon’s contact?”
“Not only his contact, but his forger. Evidently, Mr. Grimes is a man of many talents, all of them unlawful ones. But with enough coercion and two hundred pound notes, he gave me the information I sought. It seems that he and Armon did a great deal of business together. Several weeks ago, Armon approached him, saying he’d soon be getting his hands on the infamous black diamond and that he was looking for a buyer. Grimes is no fool; he knows how much that bloody stone is worth. So he agreed to pay Armon three hundred thousand pounds—a mere fraction of what the stone would bring—no questions asked. Armon told him there was one more catch to the arrangement; he needed Grimes to copy a note for him.”
“The ransom note,” Courtney supplied.
“Right. Well, Grimes didn’t mind—hell, it was the easiest catch to fulfill, given his skill at forgery. He copied the note, altering only the date, and gave both notes back to Armon. Oh, and he suggested to Armon that he not destroy the original, just in case it was needed again, such as if I didn’t comply with the terms of the note Armon did send, compelling Grimes to forge another.”
“That explains why the third note—the one Grimes calls the original—was in Armon’s pocket when he died.”
“Exactly. He probably intended to wait until the transaction was complete and the diamond in his possession before destroying the note Grimes used as a model.”
“Did Grimes tell you who his buyer for the diamond was?”
“According to him, he’d had several bites. Also, he had yet to contact his most promising potential buyer: the royal family who’d originally offered a fortune for the gem’s restoration. Believe me, Grimes knew what he stood to gain. But he never had the opportunity to reap that enormous profit. On the night he and Armon were to make the exchange, he arrived at the designated alleyway to find Armon dead and the diamond gone.”
Courtney drew a slow, inward breath, asking the most vital question of all. “Had Grimes any idea who Armon was working with? When they made their arrangements, when they exchanged the forged ransom note, did Armon ever mention the name of his mysterious employer?”
“Not according to Grimes,” Slayde replied. “He swore Armon never referred to his employer by name. And, trust me, I pressured him for answers—a dozen times, with my arm against his throat. Either he was telling the truth or he’s more afraid of the man he’s protecting than he is of me.”
“It could be the truth. Remember, when Armon was aboard the Isobel, he spent a great deal of time in my cabin, gloating. Yet never once did he use his employer’s name. Perhaps he was too shrewd to do so, even to Grimes.”
“Perhaps.” Slayde didn’t look convinced. “I could have persisted, but Grimes was sheet-white and trembling like a leaf as it was. If I knew for certain he was hiding something, I would have beaten him senseless, but my conscience refused to permit me to bodily harm a man I wasn’t sure knew any more than he’d already revealed. Moreover, I didn’t want him to flee to parts unknown. So I backed off, lulled him into a false sense of security. This way, he’ll remain in Dartmouth, should we need to question him at a later date.” With a resigned sigh, Slayde leaned back against the cushions.
“You look tired,” Courtney observed softly.
He gazed at her from beneath hooded lids. “Weary, not tired. I aged ten years when Siebert told me where you and Aurora had gone.” A regretful look. “I wish you’d have more faith in me. I vowed to find Armon’s accomplice, and I shall.”
Courtney leaned toward him, shaking her head. “I never doubted you, Slayde,” she countered, knowing it was time to reveal her true reason for descending on Lawrence Bencroft, to share with Slayde what she’d hoped to accomplish—and why. “Avenging Papa’s death wasn’t my motivation for confronting the duke. Nor was determining if Morland was, in fact, Armon’s accomplice. What I’d hoped was to provoke—”
“Lord Pembourne?” Siebert’s purposeful knock interrupted Courtney’s revelation.
r /> Slayde came to his feet, recognizing the urgent note in his butler’s voice. “Yes, Siebert, come in.”
“Forgive me for intruding, sir. But you did advise me to summon you immediately if you received word from Mr. Oridge.” He held out an envelope. “This missive just arrived.”