Never to Part, page 12
Daphne gaped at her companion while anger thrust into full bloom. How could she have had the perfidy of falling into Richard’s arms when he had done this? How dare he? The man is a treacherous—lecherous—rat.
“You came from the house so precipitously. What happened?” Eldridge asked.
Her eyes on Saddie, tumbling questions jolted Daphne. Remembering Richards words about his cousin she said, “Nothing. I must get Miss McRae home at once.”
“Of course. May I call in the morn?”
Ignoring both the question and the suspicion in his voice Daphne said, “Driver, take us to Golden Square.” She gave a belated nod to Eldridge. Her stomach lurched at the flare of black in his aura. She saw the twist of his lips. When the coach lurched into motion a sense of having escaped filled her.
The night proved long and sleepless for Daphne as she mulled over all that had happened. She impatiently waited until mid-morning before she trudged up the stairs with tea and toast for Saddie. She tapped on the door and entered.
The breakfast tray set on a small table, Daphne flicked open the curtains. She went to the bed and gazed down at the thin fragile figure. “How do you feel?”
Saddie blinked and yawned. “So sorry, Miss Daphne. I have slept like the dead. Dear me,” she turned and gazed up at the young woman. Puzzlement filled her eyes. “I can’t recall returning home, let alone going to bed. What happened?”
Daphne sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you recall going to Dremore House?”
“Oh, my yes,” Saddie exclaimed. She sat bolt upright. “I was to signal if Lord Dremore—” she stopped in mid-sentence and fell back against the pillows.
“What happened?” Daphne gently prodded.
“The hackney driver offered me a warm tisane right after you left me.” Saddie rubbed her forehead. “After I drank it I grew very very tired.” She looked up at Daphne. “I failed you, my dear. I am so—”
“Never think that, Saddie. I should never have forgiven myself if you had been harmed.”
“Were you discovered?”
Daphne blushed. “Yes, but no harm came of it. We found another verse. Lord Dremore is going to speak to his mother about it,” she blurted.
“His mother? Dear me,” Saddie said. She studied Daphne. “Nothing untoward happened?”
Hurrying to get the tray, Daphne shook her head. She waited until Saddie had a pillow across her lap and then set it on it. “Is there anything else I can fetch for you?”
“This is wonderful. I haven’t eaten in bed since— I don’t think I ever have,” Saddie grinned. “Have you eaten? I thought not. Take yourself off, then.”
Daphne did so then belatedly worried that she had not asked Saddie if she had seen anyone talk to the hackney driver. If only I had not been so upset last eve. I didn’t even think to question the hackney driver. He would not have had a warm drink to give a passenger. No. Who gave it to him? Richard?
Mr. Blanchard? came unbidden. Before she could reason further, pounding on the front door intruded.
Geoffrey? If he hadn’t returned home last eve he was probably gaming again. Daphne hurried to the door. When she opened it, Eldridge Blanchard almost fell into the foyer.
He whipped off his hat. “I was so concerned when no one answered the door. Is Miss McRae well?”
Covering her surprise Daphne reassured him. “She is fine.”
Eldridge brushed past her. He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. “I—I fear Dremore had a hand in the business. If you wish it, I shall call him out.”
The bright orange of lie settled the most pressing question for her. Daphne was now certain who had drugged Saddie but thought it wisest not to betray her knowledge until she could decide what to do. “Would that be wise?” she asked.
He took a turn around the room and faced her once more. “It would only add to the scandal sheets.” Eldridge shook his head. “I shall speak with Dremore.”
The lack of an orange flare confirmed these last words. “Please do not,” Daphne said disliking even the pretense that Blanchard would help her.
“I have tried to think why he would do such a thing.” Eldridge said without meeting her gaze. “May I ask why Miss McRae was alone in a hackney outside Dremore House?”
Heat rose to Daphne’s cheeks. She raised her chin a tad. “I was searching for the treasure.”
“Ahhhh. Dremore came home.” Eldridge brushed a hand through his hair. “Why did you not tell me?” He took her hand. “I could have kept Dremore away most of the night.”
“I did not wish to embroil you in my troubles,” Daphne said. She eased her hand free. “Your cousin was cross. Nothing more.” Daphne led him to the room closest to the foyer. When she turned and faced him an almost overwhelming sensation of being trapped washed over her.
“Did you find the treasure?” he asked nonchalantly.
“It was foolish to even think I could,” Daphne replied curtly. “I must ask you to go. I need to check on Miss McRae.”
Eldridge stepped very close. “You found something.”
It was a statement. Denial would be useless. “Yes, we found another verse.”
Eldridge eased back. He fingered his hat. “Where is it?”
“I left it with Lord Dremore.”
“Was that wise?”
Near emotional and physical exhaustion, Daphne raised a hand to cover her mouth and yawned widely. “Lord Dremore is going to show it to his mother to see if any of it makes sense to her.”
“You will let me know the result?”
To fob him off, Daphne nodded. After he withdrew, she looked out the window. A strong, handsome face, not unlike that of the man who had just left her but with a lock of blond hair that tended to curl when it fell forward onto his forehead, stared back at her.
Now there are two I must trick if I am to have the treasure. And I shall, Daphne promised herself.
* * * *
Dremore House
Richard sat at his desk in his study. The two pieces of parchment lay before him. They remained as much a puzzle now as last eve.
But Daphne’s behaviour baffled Richard more.
What about your own manners? Conscience questioned. Lout and courtier in turn.
Wincing away from too close an inspection of his behaviour Richard honed in on Daphne’s. She really believes the Dremore Treasure exists and means to find it. Has Stratton put them in such reduced circumstances that it forces Daphne to such an attempt? He mulled it over for a bit. Straightened circumstances—-fighting to keep her family home. She is a brave woman. A smile stirred across his lips and then faded.
If she found “treasure” enough to solve her problems would Daphne simply forget me? Irritated this was far more plausible than not he groused aloud, “I’m commanded to tell her what I learn from Mother. I should have her arrested for house breaking instead.”
The thought of Daphne in gaol twisted something deep. She told the truth about the incident at Heart Haven. An inner warning chimed. She may be in league with Eldridge. That alone should ban her from your heart.
Something akin to fear chilled Richard. Lust. It is pure and simple lust, he insisted despite a new and very different conclusion lurking deep in his thoughts.
Something about Daphne drew him. Her intelligence, her daring, her bravery. Realizing he was on a dangerous tack, Richard changed direction. Her scent, the velvet of her skin at the nap of her neck, the silken texture of her hair. That is what lures me as few women ever have. Lust.
A loud insistent tapping on the door broke through his reverie.
“Dremore, dear?”
Richard sighed guiltily and stood. He forced himself not to move the pieces of parchment when Lady Laurissa entered. “Yes, Mother?”
The baroness closed the door and then tugged on the handle to make certain it was shut. She approached him with a wave for him to retake his seat. “I had a dream last night,” she whispered. “I dreamed that you found another verse.
Lord Ricman took a seat on the corner of Richard’s desk. “That was a nice touch, my love,” he told his wife who stood beside the baroness.
“Hush, thou shalt distract her. Laurissa ‘tis very sensitive to us,” Lady Laurel cautioned.
“’Twas a very strange dream. Something about a crypt and you and a young woman. Lord Ricman and Lady Laurel were there with you. I think he pushed you.”
Richard stiffened with memory and then hastily and uneasily dismissed this explanation of why he had stumbled into Daphne. He stood, came around the desk, and put an arm about her shoulders. “You know better than pay heed to dreams, Mother. ’Twas probably just the rich desserts last eve.”
Lord Ricman stood and sat in Richard’s chair. He winked at his wife and then blew at the parchment pieces.
The sudden flutter of two papers on his desk halted Richard as he began to turn Lady Laurissa towards the door. What the—
His mother ducked beneath his arm and snatched up the parchment sheets. After a quick perusal she frowned at him. “Had you permitted me to finish, I would have told you that in my nonsensical dream I saw two pieces of parchment on the library table.”
Triumph lit the baroness’ eyes as she held up the fragments. “They looked like these.” She folded her arms and tapped her foot.
Richard inwardly cursed. Had Daphne sent a missive last eve to his mother? “What else did you see in this dream?”
“Sadly nothing of interest.”
The odd smile that hovered on her lips told him otherwise. Richard decided not to pursue it. Too many strange incidents had occurred for all to be happenstances. Half-jokingly he thought, Perhaps my poltergeist from the Biddleage cemetery is at work. “I was going to show them to you.”
“But not this morn,” his mother said.
Richard refused to grimace. “Read them again. Please,” he said. “But let us be comfortable.” He motioned her to take a seat in the overstuffed leather chair behind his desk.
Lord Ricman barely managed to vacate Dremore’s chair before Lady Laurissa reached it. She looked straight at him for a long moment and put a hand to her lips.
“I warned thee that she senses us,” Lady Laurel chided. “Stay well away.”
Lady Laurissa took a step to do as he bid but then halted and gaped at the chair.
“What is wrong, Mother? You have the oddest look.”
The baroness shook her head. After she gingerly waved a hand between the arms of the chair, a crafty smile lit her features as she sat. Laying the two papers on the desk, she read their contents. When she finished Lady Laurissa asked, “How many verses have been found?”
Richard debated the possibility of fabrication but her stern look dispelled the idea. “We—that is, the first clue was solved in the Blanchard mausoleum in Biddleage.” He considered his next words carefully before speaking.
“That clue led me to our library here where those were found.” He motioned to the papers and sat in the chair next to his desk.
“How interesting,” she drawled with a hint of satisfaction. “You must show me the one from Biddleage.”
“In the centre drawer,” Richard replied.
His mother opened the drawer and removed it. She pursed her lips as she studied it. When she finished, Lady Laurissa laid it above the other two papers.
“The same style of writing. However did you deduce the correct interpretation? They appear quite obtuse to me.”
Lord Ricman rose from the corner of the desk in a huff. “Obtuse? A child could understand their meaning.”
“Quiet, love,” Lady Laurel urged, her hand on his arm. “She looks at thee.”
“Balderdash, she can’t see me. She isn’t even a Blanchard.” Lord Ricman looked at the baroness and saw her gaze was directed where he stood.
“Neither am I,” his wife said saucily. “Nevertheless—”
“Aye,” he half groaned. Lord Ricman followed her to the far corner of the room. Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms.
Richard watched his mother’s gaze move to the far corner of the chamber. Now what? The dammed poltergeist again? “Mother, what is it?”
Opening her narrowed eyes wide, the baroness shrugged. “I think Lord Ricman is upset by the choice of obtuse in my observation.”
“Lord Ricman? Mother, are you trying to tell me you see—”
“Of course not, my dear. What is there to notice that you could not also see?”
“Exactly my question,” Richard threw back
“My question is why you continue to flirt with insipid girls?’”
His lack of temper surprised Richard. He ignored her jab and returned to the subject at hand. “Mother, other than the style what do you understand from the last verse?” he asked.
The baroness reread the split verse. “Rather odd,” she murmured. “Conqueror. Sage. Willow. Paramour.”
Lady Laurel glanced at her husband. “Thou didst not?”
“’Tis an obvious clue,” Lord Ricman insisted.
“Only if they knew about Elizabeth Petworth! How could they possibly know?” she accused angrily.
Chagrin crossed her husband’s face. “Then we’ll have to tell them about her.”
Hands on hips, Lady Laurel rounded on him. “Thou couldst not have found a better way than to mention that woman?”
“She pursued me,” protested Lord Ricman.
“And thou had not a care for that haughty blond—”
“Watch your tongue, love,” he warned.
Both were startled by the sudden presence of the baroness as she walked through them and turned. They plunged through the wall.
Lady Laurissa’s eyes widened as she halted in the centre of the library. “My goodness.” She cocked her head as if listening intently.
Richard rose and went to the baroness. “Mother, whatever are you doing?”
“You heard nothing? Sensed nothing? I saw them . . . arguing. Something about Lord Ricman being pursued. I don’t think Lady Laurel liked that.”
All but rolling his eyes Richard said, “We are alone.” He stretched out his hands and turned in a slow circle. Seeing her dubious expression, Richard strode to the door, opened it, then shut it. “No one skulks outside the door.”
“I am fully aware of that,” Lady Laurissa said irritably. “’Tis inside this room that I—I—” The baroness bent and picked something up from the floor. Holding out her open hand she faced her son. “See the laurel leaves? They were here with us. They are trying to tell us something.”
“Spirits? Spectres?” Richard regretted the words when his mother’s features brightened. “’Tis only a legend, Mother,” he said tiredly. “The first Blanchards’ spirits do not inhabit our world.”
“You had best hope they do,” the baroness snapped obtusely. She walked slowly back to the desk and read the third verse again. Tapping it, she said, “If we cannot learn who the paramour is, I doubt this clue can be solved.”
“’Tis unimportant,” Richard told her, hoping he was right.
“Whether you believe in it or not, the treasure exists. We need their help to find it.” Lady Laurissa paused at the door.
“I was very pleased to see you dance with Daphne Stratton at the Mortomer’s. Mayhaps you should ask her to join you in the hunt for the treasure. Not only does the first clue mention ‘harmony’ which means more than one must be involved, but she is a very clever gel.”
“Mother—”
“A wise man heeds his mother’s advice.”
Chapter Thirteen
No. 23 Golden Square
Daphne contemplated the ledger’s figures. If only the ones she needed to know were writ there. Geoffrey’s gambling debts. There was no way to figure a total. If Mr. Blanchard’s hints were correct in this at least, the amount was beyond their present means even if they sold Trotter House and handed over her dowry.
Does my dowry even still exist?
The question brought to mind Wadick and his sickening advances and Richard. Elbows on the desk, Daphne leaned her forehead against her hands and massaged her brow. Instantly she was back in the Dremore library, Richard lips on hers, his arms about her.
The liberties she had permitted without objection. What he must think of me. Her behaviour perplexed Daphne. Was the gambling fever that gripped Geoffrey like this?
She leaned back in the chair, grateful that her brother had, at least temporarily, put a halt to his demand she wed Wardick. She was more thankful that Richard had agreed the treasure was to go to the finder. If only half of it would be enough perhaps some chance would remain of salvaging what Richard thought of her.
“Daphne,” Saddie said from the doorway. “Mr. Blanchard is here. He brought Master Geoffrey home.”
Her stomach twisted with the all too common wrench of fear and not a little anger. “Geof? How is—”
“Rather the worse for wear. I asked Mr. Blanchard to take Master Geoffrey to his chamber. Thankfully he is doing so.” When Daphne headed towards the door, Saddie held up a hand.
“It’d be best if you remain here.”
“Then have Mr. Blanchard come to me in the salon,” Daphne told her. She sat on the faded settee clasping and unclasping her hands. With determined resolve she pushed aside the image of Richard and concentrated on her distrust of Eldridge.
There is no kindness in Mr. Blanchard’s aura. Why did he bring Geoffrey home? Why does he ‘act’ the friend?
The assumption of intimacy in his manner and conversation troubled her. With his stated need for a rich bride why bother with her and Geof? Could he use them to hurt Richard? Would he?
Striding into the salon Eldridge went to Daphne and took her hands. “I am sorry it took so long to get Stratton to bed. When I realized he had dismissed his man I saw to him. ‘Tis not right you be burdened with the task.”
“What happened?” Daphne asked. In her anxiety she did not seek to free her hands.
“Only extremely foxed,” Eldridge said. He released her hands and drew forth a wad a small pieces of paper from his pocket. He held them out. “Copies of his vowels—his debts of honour.”
