The Black Diamond (21 page)

"Oh, it exists," Julian stated flatly. "I know it. Clearly James and Geoffrey wanted us to realize that, which is why they made the two keys look so similar. The question is, where is the strongbox? In my opinion, the avenue leading to its discovery lies either here or at Morland."

"Then let's go." Aurora bolted to her feet, snatching. Julian's hand and heading toward the door. "We're wasting time. It's only an hour's drive to Morland. Courtney and Slayde can continue exploring Pembourne. You and I will tear through Morland, stone by stone."

* * *

An hour and a quarter later, Aurora and Julian's carriage passed through Morland's iron gates and rounded the drive to the manor. Aurora felt a chill encase her heart as she caught sight of the cold, austere dwelling, ugly memories crowding her mind as the house loomed closer.

"Aurora?" Feeling his wife tense beside him, Julian frowned, watching her obvious fervent reaction. "Are you all right?"

"I'd forgotten how morose this estate looks." A shiver. "It hasn't changed a bit."

Julian's brows arched. "You've been here?"

"Only on the grounds. And only once. With Courtney. Before she and Slayde were married. She came to confront your father. She was hoping to bring Slayde some semblance of peace. I accompanied her, waited in the carriage while she spoke with Lawrence."

"My father would sooner have sold his soul to the devil than have granted peace to a Huntley."

"Yes, I know."

Julian's knuckles brushed her cheek. "You don't have to go in—not if it upsets you."

"Of course I do!" Aurora sat bolt upright. "I'm as determined to find that strongbox as you are—certainly determined enough to overcome a trace of uneasiness."

"Spoken like a true adventurer." Julian winked, glancing about as the carriage came to a halt. "Given your abundance of spirit, do you feel brave enough to strike out on your own? Because we'll make the most effective use of our time if we divide up. And since neither of us wants to stay here a moment longer than necessary, my goal is to find what we're seeking and be gone as quickly as possible."

"An excellent plan. Where shall I begin?"

"I'll search the first floor, go through each sitting room, salon, and anteroom. You go to the upstairs level and scrutinize each bedchamber—desks, nightstands, wardrobes—then check out the sitting rooms. I suspect you'll find most of the furniture bare, since no one other than my father and his servants have lived here for years."

Aurora nodded, accepting Julian's assistance in alighting. Then, head held high, she accompanied him to the entranceway door.

"Your Grace. I wasn't expecting you." A haughty-looking butler received them, and Aurora immediately recognized him as the man who'd admitted Courtney on their one and only visit to Morland.

"Thayer." Julian looped an arm about Aurora's waist. "This is my wife, the Duchess of Morland." He pronounced the title with purposeful intensity, as if daring Thayer to treat Aurora with disrespect.

"Your Grace." Thayer's lips pursed but he bowed, greeting Aurora with all the dignity her new title commanded. "Welcome to Morland."

"T
hank
you."

"Her Grace will be exploring her new estate," Julian informed Thayer. "Please provide her with whatever she needs—including privacy, should she prefer it."

"Of course, sir." Thayer bowed again.

"I'd like to see the sleeping quarters," Aurora suggested, trying hard to sound like an eager bride.

"Shall I accompany you, Madam?" Thayer inquired.

"No, t
hank
you, Thayer. As my husband guessed, I'd truly prefer exploring on my own."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"I'll be on my way then." She met Julian's purposeful gaze. "If you gentlemen will excuse me?"

"You know where to find me," her husband replied, quietly.

"Indeed I do." Warmed by Julian's reassurance, Aurora gathered up her skirts and headed for the staircase.

She abandoned protocol the instant she was out of sight.

Darting around the second floor landing, she surveyed the vast deserted hallway, itching to begin her scrutiny.
There must be dozens of bedchambers here
, she mused.
I certainly have my work cut out for me.

With that she began, marching into each chamber, going through it inch by inch before moving on to the next. As Julian had predicted, the rooms were all but naked, the desks empty, the wardrobes bare—almost as if no one had ever lived here, not even the late duke whose bedchamber had already been cleared of personal belongings. It was downright eerie, she thought with a shiver. Room after room was the same, filled only with pristine oriental rugs, stark mahogany furniture, and a cold barrenness that permeated every chamber like an icy wind.

Morland Manor was as much a mausoleum on the inside as it was on the outside.

Two hours later, Aurora rounded the hall to the next section of sleeping quarters, letting herself into what appeared to be yet another impersonal room.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she went to work, inspecting the empty wardrobe and nightstand, digging under the four-poster bed before settling herself behind the desk.

No wonder Julian loathed this place.

The thought popped into her mind as she tugged open the desk drawer, and she found herself trying to imagine what it must have been like for him to grow up here. His mother had died when he was still a boy, and his father had been an unfeeling tyrant who'd all but driven him away. How lonely he must have felt. True, she, too, had lost her parents when she was young. But not before they'd given her a foundation of love, a home in which she belonged, and a grown brother who, independent though he was, devoted much of his energies to her well-being.

Julian had once had a brother, too, she reminded herself. A brother he'd lost just as they'd both become men. Had that affected him deeply? Had he and Hugh been close in more ways than years?

Reflectively Aurora pondered the brief conversation she and Mr. Scollard had had regarding Julian's older brother.

"He was a good man, Rory. Honorable of purpose, generous of nature. Quite different from his father and grandfather. "

"And from Julian?"

"Not in principles, but in fact. Very different. "

"Were they close?"

"In heart, yes."

"In heart. Does that mean they cared about similar things or about each other?"

Mr. Scollard had never truly answered her question, other than to say she'd have to find her answers elsewhere, presumably from Julian.

An unlikely prospect, she thought ruefully. Julian was reluctant to disclose even the factual details of his life, much less the personal ones. She'd all but dragged information from him about his feud with the Macall brothers—and
that
he considered merely an unfortunate consequence of his occupation. The idea of his divulging emotional details of his past was inconceivable.

Still, she had no intention of abandoning her attempts to amend that fact.

Aurora was about to shut the drawer when a flat pad in the far right corner caught her eye. She extracted it, noting it was a sketchbook and wondering whose drawings it contained. Flipping it open, she was confronted with one of the loveliest pencil sketches of a waterfall, she'd ever seen. Enchanted, she turned the pages one by one, discovering a whole pad of exceptionally well-delineated sketches depicting scene after scene of natural beauty—a grove of trees overlooking a pond, the first snow blanketing a winter landscape, a sunset over the English Channel. Whoever had penciled these drawings was incredibly talented.

Too curious to wait, Aurora tucked the sketchpad beneath her arm and went downstairs, peeking into the first sitting room she encountered.

"May I help you, Your Grace?"

Aurora jumped, whirling about to face the Morland butler. "Oh, Thayer. You startled me. Yes. I was looking for my husband."

"He's in his late father's study," was the haughty reply.

"Which is…?"

"Down the hall, fourth door on your left."

"T
hank
you." Aurora hastened off, still unnerved by Thayer, the manor … everything that reminded her of Lawrence Bencroft.

The slam of a drawer greeted her as she stepped into the study.

"Julian?" she asked tentatively, watching him rifle through the desk.

He was on his feet instantly. "Did you find something?"

"I don't think so—at least nothing significant. 'Tis just that all the bedrooms I went through were utterly bare with the exception of the last. I found this—" She held out the pad. "—in the desk."

Julian walked around and took the sketchbook, flipping it open to the first scene. An odd expression crossed his face and he scrutinized the picture, drinking in every stroke, almost as if he'd been reunited with a long-lost friend and wanted to absorb every detail he'd missed during the time they'd been apart. Swallowing hard, he sifted through the pages, pausing now and again to study a particular scene or part thereof.

"They're exceptional," Aurora offered softly, feeling as if she was intruding upon an intimate reunion—and as if a vast chasm had suddenly sprung up and was now separating her from her husband.

"Yes. They are. He was incredibly talented. I'd almost forgotten." Julian turned away, his tone strained, his shoulders stiff. Wordlessly he placed the pad atop the desk.

"Did Hugh draw those sketches?" Aurora tried.

A prolonged pause. "Yes. And if you don't mind, I'd prefer not to discuss my brother."

"Why not? He obviously meant a great deal to you."

"He did. But he's been gone over thirteen years."

"My parents have been gone nearly eleven. That doesn't mean I've stopped missing them."

Slowly Julian turned to face her, his stance less rigid, his expression veiled. "I know,
soleil
. And I'm sorry for all you've endured, both then and now. However, my situation is entirely different. Any unresolved issues I have regarding Hugh involve much more than a sense of loss or grief. So while I appreciate your concern, please—don't deem me some broken toy that needs fixing."

Frustration annihilated discretion. "A broken toy?" Aurora blurted. "Hardly. What I deem you is a stubborn man who needs friendship. Or who needs anyone, for that matter. You're so bloody self-contained, so determined to preserve your damned autonomy. You infuriate me!"

To Aurora's amazement, a corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "And you're going to reform me?"

"I'm going to try," Aurora retorted. "If you'll let me."

For a long moment, Julian said nothing. Then, he leaned back against the desk, regarding her from beneath hooded lids. "What would you like to know?"

"About your brother. Tell me about Hugh."

"Why?"

"Because he was an important person in your life. Because you obviously cared a great deal about him. And because I have the strangest feeling he's indirectly responsible for our marriage."

That brought a flicker of interest. "Do you?"

"Yes. If you recall, on the day you proposed I said I believed there was some reason—or person—that was compelling you to right the past, to find the black diamond in order to untarnish the Bencroft name. Someone other than your father or your grandfather. You chose not to answer me then. Perhaps you'll answer me now. Was that person your brother?"