Legacy of the Diamond by Andrea Kane

Author:Andrea Kane
Language: ron
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Courtney shifted in her garden chair, inhaling the fragrant scent of roses and lilacs, staring out across the darkening grounds of Pembourne. She clutched the timepiece in her lap, only minimally aware that the sun had long since faded, casting the garden in which she sat in shadows.

She'd been here for hours—ever since she and Aurora had made their silent trek back from the lighthouse—her mind besieged by questions. Aurora had somehow understood her need for solitude, merely squeezing her hand in unspoken support and leaving Courtney to her contemplations.

Other than Aurora, no one knew her whereabouts, a fact for which she was grateful. She had much to ponder, an abundance of soul-searching to conduct, a need triggered by Mr. Scollard's profound assertions and equally profound implications.

Patience, he'd said. Strength. Ties that were able to be broken; others that were not. The end of one journey and the beginning of another.

Like wisps of smoke, fragments of Courtney's intended course began unfurling inside her. At last, one piece of the puzzle—that which pertained to the onset of her impending journey—fell into place.

Her fingers tightened about the watch.

Papa. Two tears slid down her cheeks. You'll never truly be gone. But 'tis up to me to make peace with myself to discern physical from spiritual. Thus, I must take the first leg of the journey Mr. Scollard spoke of to return to the spot where the nightmare began. Perhaps therein my answers will lie.

Gripping folds of her gown, Courtney sat forward, staring off toward the Channel as her purpose found her, just as Mr. Scollard had predicted. She'd leave right away, seek her truths.

But how could she reach them? In one of Slayde's ships.

Swiftly, she rose, gathering her skirts, preoccupied with one goal: to rush down to the wharf and be gone.

You owe it to Slayde to tell him first, her conscience warned.

Impossible, her urgency argued. Slayde is in London. I haven't a clue when hell return. And I haven't the time to wait.

Her common sense tried next. But it's nearly night, the worst time of day to sail off to parts unknown.

I can't let that—or anything else—deter me. I must go. She'd taken but three steps when another internal voice resounded, this one halting her in her tracks. Patience, Courtney. It was Mr. Scollard, speaking as clearly as if he stood beside her. You must learn some. Now more than ever—you must.

"Mr. Scollard?" She looked about in bewilderment. Nothing but the gardens and trees met her scrutiny. Listen with your heart, Courtney, the gruff, omniscient voice persisted. It won't fail you.

With a resigned sigh, Courtney retraced her steps, sank back down into the chair. "Very well," she acquiesced, somehow unsurprised by Mr. Scollard's unseen presence. "I'll try."

She could almost see him smile.

She must have dozed.

Firm hands gripped her arms, shook her awake with gentle, but insistent motions. Disoriented, she cracked open her eyes and shivered, wondering why so cold a breeze permeated her bedchamber. "Matilda, would you mind closing the window?" she murmured.

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