The Black Diamond (24 page)

The answer was as startling as it was obvious.

She was falling in love with her husband.

Aurora nearly groaned aloud.
How could this be happening?
she pondered in astonishment. A month ago she hadn't even known Julian Bencroft. 'Twas impossible for him to have captured her heart in a matter of days.

And yet she'd trusted him in a matter of minutes.

She'd told him so herself on the day he proposed, argued that time was not a requirement for trust, that trust came from within and was ofttimes instinctive rather than earned. And how could she refute that statement when she knew in her heart it was true? She had trusted Julian from the onset, had believed in his noble intentions, his decency, his honor. She'd placed her life and her future in his hands, knowing somehow he would give her everything she craved.

What she hadn't realized was just how much she craved.

But love? Unlike trust, love took time, familiarity, cultivation. Didn't it?

It hadn't with Slayde and Courtney.

Aurora squeezed her eyes shut, the full impact of her realization sinking in
. I'm a fool
, she berated herself inwardly, contemplating the overwhelming sensations she experienced each time she and Julian made love—sensations too profound to stem merely from lust, incited by a fervor that intensified more with each joining.
A stupid, bloody fool. What did I think Mr. Scollard was trying to tell me when he compared me with Courtney, reminded me of the days when she grappled with her feelings for Slayde after being thrust unexpectedly into his life?
Mr. Scollard was as much as telling me I'd soon experience something similar with Julian. Only I was too dim-witted to hear.

Well, I hear you now, Mr. Scollard,
she acknowledged ruefully.
The question is, what am I going to do about it?

For now—nothing.

The decision erupted in her mind with the same conviction as had the realization of her feelings. And while she was still reeling from the knowledge that she was falling in love with Julian, she was sensible enough to know that she couldn't act upon her newfound discovery—not now. Not with the black diamond still unrecovered, the echoes of the past still haunting their lives. There was too much closure yet to be had, too many hurdles to be contemplated and surmounted.

And unearthing the black diamond was only the first.

After that came she herself.

Aurora drew a slow, steadying breath, grasping the open strongbox in her hands as if it were an anchor. She'd never truly imagined falling in love, and now that she had—well, she needed time to understand these new startling feelings that had stormed her senses, taken her completely by surprise.

Then came the third—and perhaps the most difficult—hurdle of all: Julian.

How could she convey these feelings to him? What could she say, and when? How severe would his reaction be?

That he'd be irked was a certainty. Aurora was too honest to delude herself into thinking otherwise. She, better than anyone, knew the way her husband regarded her: as an exciting and delightful diversion, a tempting indulgence to be savored at will, even a kindred spirit and worthy companion. But love? Love was not part of Julian's plan any more than were the constraints spawned by emotional bonds. Julian was an adventurer. He would not welcome the potential limitations love would impose on his way of life. He was also a loner—one who'd already divulged more of himself than he liked and who would be reluctant to permit further intrusions into his private thoughts and feelings.

Lord help her, what impasse had she backed herself into this time?

"Aurora?" Julian's voice was questioning, his gaze curious. "Why are you staring into that strongbox as if it contains another secret we have yet to unearth?"

"Because it does." Jolting back to reality, Aurora fingered the frayed page that lay within the box. "We still have to determine why James chose this particular page to tear out and hide. It's obviously a crucial clue that he meant for us to find."

"Then you agree we should go to Pembourne?"

Pembourne. The prospect sent waves of relief flooding through Aurora—for reasons that had little to do with James's library. "Yes, definitely," she concurred, thinking that traveling to her old home meant receiving precisely what she needed: the wondrous balm of Courtney's counsel. "I suggest we leave Plymouth at once and ride directly to Pembourne."

* * *

It was late at night when they arrived, and Aurora glanced anxiously at the manor, experiencing another surge of relief when she saw that the lamps on the first level were still lit.

"They're awake," she murmured, nearly leaping from the phaeton. She bounded up the steps, knocking loudly and repeatedly until Siebert opened the door.

"Good evening, Siebert. It is I," Aurora announced.

"I never doubted that for a moment, my lady," the butler returned dryly. "Who else would be breaking down the door at this hour of night?" He stepped aside to admit the two of them, nodding politely—if aloofly—at Julian. "The earl and countess are in the sitting room."

"T
hank
you, Siebert."

Aurora exploded into the sitting room like a cannon. "We found the…"

"My God, what happened to you?" Slayde demanded, bolting to his feet and staring at his sister. "Were you in an accident?"

"What?" Confused, Aurora followed Slayde's gaze, realizing for the first time what a sorry state she was in. "Oh. I must have torn my gown."

"Torn your gown?" Slayde was still gaping. "Aurora, you're covered with dirt, your gown and mantle are shredded, and you have scratches all over your arms. What in the hell went on at Morland?"

"Your ingenious sister figured out the location of this—that's what went on," Julian supplied, flourishing the strongbox as he entered the room.

"It was at Morland Manor?" Courtney exclaimed, sitting upright on the sofa.

"In a matter of speaking." Julian proceeded to fill them in, concluding by showing them the strongbox and its contents.

"Well," Courtney murmured, shaking her head in amazement, "it appears we're going to have to pore over James's library yet again."

"I'll begin tonight," Julian qualified at once. "Slayde, you're welcome to join me. But our wives are going to bed."

Aurora's head shot up. "Not I," she protested. "Courtney needs her rest. But…"

"Aurora—" Julian held up his palm, silencing her protest, his tone as unyielding as it had been in the inn when he'd demanded she let him speak with Stone in private. "You haven't eaten since breakfast. You're pale, covered in scratches, and swaying on your feet. In short, you're exhausted. There are hundreds of books in that library. It's doubtful Slayde and I will discover anything over the next few hours. If we do, I'll awaken you. I'm accustomed to this pace. You're not. So don't argue with me. Eat something, take a hot bath, and go to sleep."

"Very well." Normally Aurora would have fought like a tigress. But if there was anything she wanted equally as much as she wanted to tear through those books, it was the chance to talk to Courtney. Further, Julian was right. She felt unusually weak and her head was pounding painfully—almost as if the effects of the day were descending upon her all at once. "I'll rest—for a while."

She retired to her old room, where she ate two helpings of supper, soaked in a hot tub, then slipped into her nightrail and wrapper and padded down the hall to Courtney's bedchamber.

Tentatively she knocked.

"Come in."

Aurora opened the door and poked her head inside. "'Tis only I."

"I know. I've been expecting you." Courtney placed her brush on her dressing table, waving Aurora into the room. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much. I guess I was hungrier than I realized."

"And dirtier." Courtney grinned. "Have a seat."

Aurora closed the door behind her, glancing about the chamber. "Are you expecting Slayde?"

"Eventually. After he spends half the night in the library poring over books with Julian. In truth, I think he welcomed the opportunity. These days my poor husband prowls about quite a bit before bedtime, coming to my chambers only when he's very, very sleepy."

A new understanding lit Aurora's eyes. "I would imagine this is a difficult time—for both of you."

"Difficult, but worth it." Courtney lay her palm on her abdomen. "Besides, it will only be a few more weeks before our babe arrives. After which I intend to heal as quickly as I can—if for no other reason than to end Slayde's nighttime strolls."

The two women laughed.

"A month ago you would have scoffed at what I just said," Courtney noted aloud.

"A month ago I was a child," Aurora replied, dropping into a chair. "A child and a fool. Courtney, I'm in a terrible predicament. I don't know what to do."

"Is this about Julian?"

"Yes, heaven help me."

Courtney's delicate brows drew together. "He's not causing you unhappiness, is he?"

"No. Well, yes. But not in the way you mean."

Slowly Courtney sank onto the bed, regarding her friend with keen insight. "You're falling in love with him, aren't you?"

To Aurora's horror, tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes," she managed. "And I can't seem to stop it from happening."

"Why would you want to?"

"Because it changes everything. Because adventure and excitement—even passion—are diversions, while love is profound, real. Because my emotions are in turmoil. I can't control them nor do I fully understand them." A pause. "And because Julian would hate the idea."

"Ah. So that's what this is all about." Courtney skipped over the bulk of her friend's tirade and focused on her final statement. "You're worried about Julian's reaction when you declare your love."

"You can't imagine how vehemently he's going to resist the whole idea."

"Oh, can't I?" Courtney's eyes sparkled. "You, my dear friend, have a very short memory. Last spring, 'twas you who were counseling me about this very thing."

"That was entirely different."

"Really? How so?"

"Because I knew Slayde was in love with you. So, for that matter, did he. He was just too much of a dolt to accept your love in return."

"And Julian?"

"Julian is a stubborn, self-contained loner who refuses to share his thoughts
or
his feelings, much less his heart."

"That sounds remarkably like a description of Slayde when I met him." Courtney leaned forward and took Aurora's hands in hers. "I realize the two men are not exactly alike, nor are the circumstances that defined their lives. But they do share quite a few similarities—strong ones. Surely you've noticed."

A morose nod. "I've noticed. Unfortunately all the traits they share are negative ones. They're like two immovable rocks. Only Julian, unlike Slayde, has no desire—or reason—to budge."

"I'm sure Lawrence and Chilton had a lot to do with that fact." Courtney's expression grew thoughtful. "Remember, Slayde never had to endure the ostracism and rejection Julian did. I can't imagine that was easy."

"It's more than Lawrence's renunciation that shaped Julian's outlook," Aurora replied quietly, giving voice to the conclusion she'd drawn after listening to Julian fervently, albeit reluctantly, discuss his brother. "Hugh's death had a lot to do with Julian's remoteness—perhaps more than Julian himself realizes. He and his brother were very close."