“Exactly.” Courtney’s eyes sparkled. “Not only is Grimes a contact for stolen jewels, he’s also a skilled forger. He studied the handwriting of that second note, then reproduced it. Other than confessing that—and the fact that he was Armon’s contact—to Slayde, he’s been of little use to us. But I think all that’s about to change.” Courtney rubbed her palms together. “As I recall, Mr. Grimes is amenable to business arrangements that consist of his being lavishly compensated while remaining wholly intact. We can offer him that. In
fact, we can offer him more than enough to buy his cooperation.”
“You want him to study the handwriting on this sketch?”
“Not only study it, but compare it to a host of others. We’re going to assemble the staff and ask each and every one of them to pen a few words for us. We’ll conjure up a suitable reason, then choose a fragment from the note, something innocuous enough for the culprit to have forgotten he’d written ten years past. That way no one will feign the inability to write so as not to participate. Once the task is done, we’ll take all the samples to Grimes.”
“Who will then match the culprit’s hand with that on this sketch,” Aurora jumped in, realization erupting like fireworks.
“Precisely.” Courtney’s small jaw set. “At which time, dear cohort, we’ll have our traitor.”
Chapter 17
“THAYER, TELL THE DUKE I’m here,” Slayde commanded, looming in Morland’s entranceway door like an avenging god. “And don’t bother refusing me or telling me he’s away. He’s here. And I’m going nowhere until I’ve spoken with him.”
The butler flinched at Slayde’s formidable presence, the leashed fury in his tone. “To the contrary, Lord Pembourne,” he countered, taking two backward steps, “His Grace has been expecting…rather, hoping—” Breaking off, Thayer whipped out a handkerchief, mopped at his brow. “I have instructions to advise him the moment you arrive. Please—wait here while I announce you.” He turned, nearly sprinting down the hall.
Not three minutes passed before he reappeared. “The duke will see you at once. Follow me.”
Thayer led Slayde down the same corridor he’d just traversed, pausing when he reached the open study door. “Lord Pembourne,” he trumpeted, his voice quavering a bit.
“Huntley—so you finally got my message.” Unsteadily, Morland rose from behind his desk, bitterness contorting his features, hatred darkening his red-rimmed stare. “I planned to give you one more day before I descended again on Pembourne.”
“To do what?” Slayde demanded. “Harass my staff? Tear apart the manor? Or something more ominous than either?”
From the doorway, Thayer gave a delicate cough. “If there will be nothing else, sir?”
Morland’s gaze never left Slayde’s. “No, Thayer, you’re welcome to bolt. Shut the door behind you. Oh, and you’re bound to hear shouts. Ignore them. The earl and I have a great deal of catching up to do.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.” The butler fled like a pursued rabbit.
“I could kill you, you filthy bastard,” Morland spat the instant he and Slayde were alone.
“I don’t doubt it,” Slayde shot back. “You have a wealth of experience when it comes to murder.” A pause, flashes of Courtney’s near-fatality jolting through him. “And attempted murder.”
Morland’s eyes narrowed. “Attempted murder? Have you a new accusation to add to your demented list of crimes?”
“I have many. Are you sober enough to hear them?”
“I’m as sober as you are.”
“As you were the day you burst into Pembourne?”
“No. That day I was drunk. Today I’m livid.” Morland gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. “Don’t confuse the two. Now, where is it? Where is that blasted diamond?”
“You already know the answer to that, Morland.” Slayde’s voice was menacingly quiet. “So drop the façade and give me the answers I seek. I’m not leaving here without them. I’ll drag them from your lips if I must, employing whatever methods are necessary to get them.”
“You dare to threaten me?” Morland roared, picking up an empty goblet and hurling it against the fireplace, where it smashed into a hundred shards. “You, who handed my life over to that pirate along with the black diamond? You had no bloody right. I don’t give a damn about your sister’s life. That privateer was welcome to her—’twould be one less Huntley to contend with.”
Slayde’s control snapped. “You miserable…” He crossed the room in a heartbeat, his fist connecting with Morland’s jaw.
“Go ahead,” Morland taunted, panting as he regained his balance. “Thrash me. Beat me senseless. I’m condemned to an eternal hell anyway, thanks to the Huntleys. You’re all animals, cursed thieves who have hoisted your curse onto us.” He rubbed his jaw, words of enmity spilling forth of their own accord. “Four generations, my family has suffered, died, from your greed and hatred. Did you have the jewel all these years, you wretched scoundrel? Or did you uncover it just in time to relinquish it and damn the Bencrofts to immortal doom?”
Something penetrated Slayde’s rage, gave him pause. Perhaps it was Morland’s tone, his desperation. Perhaps it was instinct, the new awareness Slayde had only just acquired. In any case, he found himself waiting, deferring his next punch, listening to Morland’s ramblings.
“What’s wrong with you Huntleys?” he was demanding, raking both hands through his hair. “Don’t you want to be rid of that curse? Do you enjoy being haunted by demons? Or is it just the sheer pleasure of tormenting the Bencrofts that stirs your black-hearted souls? You don’t need the fortune that diamond would bring. Hell, you’ve got more money than you know what to do with.”
“While you don’t,” Slayde said at once.