Never to part, p.10
Never to Part, page 10
Daphne looked at him, then lowered her gaze. “He has been very kind to my brother.”
”And to you?” He watched Daphne’s gaze snap back to his.
“There has been no hint of impropriety in his behaviour.”
“I didn’t suggest there was,” Richard shot back. “What of yours?”
“You insult, my lord.”
The steps of the dance separated them. When they came back together Daphne acknowledged Richard’s presence only as a mannequin for the dance. When it ended she curtsied.
Eldridge appeared at her side. Daphne accepted his arm.
* * * *
Much later that evening, Daphne sat in her bed studying the verse she had memorized and then written down on return to Clandon House after her adventure at the cemetery. “Ink, quill, chamber, tale to tell,” she muttered. “Tell me your tale,” she begged. “Please tell it.”
The words coalesced into a drawing of Lord Dremore. “Richard,” she murmured. The sound of his given name startled her. When had she begun thinking of him on terms of such intimacy?
Lying back on her pillow, Daphne closed her eyes; turned her thoughts back to the puzzle. “What kind of a chamber would have ink and quill?” Instead of an answer she saw a ballroom. In the centre awaiting her stood Richard. Shaking the image away she returned to her question.
“An office. A study. But would either have a tale to tell? Of sorts I suppose,” she answered herself.
Daphne recited the verse aloud, then contemplated the words. “Entertainment. Tales. Chamber.” Sitting up, she said, “Library!” The next moment her excitement ebbed away.
“Where is this library? Whose?”
“Of feast grand and laurel plenty,” she mused. “Laurel plenty.” Daphne sank back against her pillow. “The only family I know of that has laurel in their crest is— Dear Lord, not Dremore’s library?”
Perhaps ‘tis the one at Heart Haven, she speculated.
Daphne reread the first line. “By houses crowded. That can’t be Heart Haven or any of his other estates.”
His townhouse here in London.
She considered the houses in Mayfair Square. “Certainly crowded compared to the area around Heart Haven.” Even as she said it, certainty grew that in Richard’s townhouse she would find the library mentioned in the verse.
Laying the paper aside and blowing out her candle, Daphne tried to sleep. Eldridge Blanchard is not a bad sort, she argued trying to convince herself. He was kind to rescue me from his cousin this eve. He has offered assistance—many times. Daphne sighed.
His aura says otherwise. But what of Richard’s aura? If only I could see his.
“An end to this foolish infatuation with Richard . The cousin is more the gentleman,” she told the darkness.
His aura challenges that, Reason returned.
“Auras,” Daphne sighed, half asleep. “I never saw Father’s or Mother’s. Saddie’s neither.” She yawned widely. Why? Before she reached any conclusion Daphne fell fast asleep.
Chapter Ten
No. 23 Golden Square
October 2nd
Daphne ran a finger up one side of the feathered quill and down the other. She flicked the feather tip against her chin and sighed. How was she to go about asking a gentleman who was no relation for help? Especially one whose aura urged her to distrust him.
“Mr. Blanchard has oft said that he will do anything,” she murmured. She twirled the nub of the quill between her fingers. “Anything.” Worrying her bottom lip, Daphne laid down the quill and put her palms against her cheeks.
She closed her eyes. I loath abusing a gentleman’s trust, even one I cannot like. Her thoughts flicked to Richard. There is always the exception. Daphne went back to Mr. Blanchard.
He convinced Geoff to come home at a decent hour of late. I even heard him argue with Geoff about the gaming hells.
She moved the heels of her palms to her forehead and pressed it against them. “I cannot use Mr. Blanchard to try to cheat his cousin out of the Dremore Treasure.”
But you must do so to solve the puzzle. At least to make the attempt to solve it, argued Curiosity and Need.
Lowering her hands, Daphne stared blankly, consumed by the memory of what occurred within the mausoleum at Biddleage. A hint of a smile began to curve her lips.
“It was breathtaking when we realized what the dryads where. When we found the second verse . . .” The euphoria of that moment widened Daphne’s smile; increased her longing to test her mettle again. “I do want to see if I can solve it.”
She thought about the small amount of money that remained from Sir Joshua’s loan. Even with careful husbanding it could not last. Daphne sighed. Until Geoffrey was free of debt she dare not take an easy breath. “I must solve the clue. I must.”
She bolted out of the chair and paced restlessly. “Who else would know the interior of Dremore House?” She pursed her lips. “Who would not think it odd that I ask about it?”
Besides Mr. Blanchard, is there any one I know who would know? She halted before the window in her chamber. Dark grey clouds hung low. “’Tis about to rain—” Daphne began and paused at the niggling of a memory. “Rain?”
She bit her lip; stilled her mind. The memory of Richard holding the umbrella over her as they bickered their way to the front door the day she visited Sir Overton came to her. Daphne turned from the window.
“Sir Joshua is an old friend of Lady Laurissa. He would have called oft at Dremore House. Yes,” she crowed, triumphant. Plucking her bonnet and light cloak from the hook on her door she left her room.
“Saddie,” Daphne called. “Fetch your bonnet and shawl. We must call on Sir Joshua.”
In the hackney Daphne convinced Saddie she had not run mad. After placating Miss McRae she began to form the questions she would ask Sir Joshua. When they alighted from the hackney before Overton’s front door she was prepared.
“Good afternoon,” Sir Joshua greeted the ladies when he joined them in his salon. He took the hands Daphne extended and assessed her. “I am happy to see that you are blooming with good health, Daphne,” he said. Releasing one, Sir Joshua turned to Saddie, “You also Miss McRae.”
The older woman smiled. “You are too kind.”
“Yes indeed,” Daphne agreed as he released her hands and indicated they should sit.
“Geoffrey?”
Daphne’s head snapped up. “He is well. He has not—gambled. That is not why I have come.” Her carefully wrought questions began to unravel. “’Tis an entirely different matter.”
“Yes?” Sir Joshua prompted gently when she didn’t continue.
“’Tis that— I mean—” Daphne shook her head. I cannot speak plainly without revealing my intent. She took a deep breath and prayed she didn’t lose the thread she’d grasped.
“My visit with Mary George and her family last week has sparked an interest in architecture.”
“What aspect of architecture?” Sir Joshua asked.
“Mary sketched the arrangement of the rooms in her parents’ house and I did one of Trotter House and our home in Golden Square. In a letter I received since my visit, Mary asked me about the houses in London.” With a silent plea for Mary’s forgiveness for this prevarication, Daphne smiled.
“I sketched your home here but in rereading Mary’s letter I decided she meant a house on a, err, a grander scale. I thought perhaps you could help me with that,” she ended with a rush.
“Do you have a house in mind, my dear,” Sir Joshua asked.
“I am not familiar with any grand houses,” Daphne said. “But I recalled that you said you knew Lady Laurissa well.”
Sir Joshua beamed. “I am certain she would be only too glad to have you call and see the house,”
Daphne shook her head. “I could not so impose. Lord Dremore does not— It would be unpleasant to encounter him.” When Sir Joshua’s expression said he disbelieved this, Daphne flashed an encouraging smile. “I think it best if I learn about the house from someone else who knows it.”
“I have many times visited it.”
“Then could you sketch a plan of the rooms? Just the ground and first floor?”
Sir Joshua shook his head. “I have no skill at such a task, my dear.”
“I could do so if you but explain the placement of the rooms.”
“I know the main rooms but I never ran free of the place—”
“That is quite all right. The main rooms will be more than sufficient.”
“Then let me think,” Sir Joshua said and began to tap his chin. “The ground floor, hmmm. Yes.”
* * * *
No. 23 Golden Square
As soon as they returned home Daphne went to her brother’s office. She hurriedly sketched the arrangement of the rooms as Sir Joshua had described them. Daphne finished just as Saddie entered with a tea tray.
“Just what are you so happy about, miss?” Saddie asked. “I have not seen you smile that this for days. Does this mean you will pursue Lord Dremore?”
Daphne, who had prudently edited events in the mausoleum, bent over the tea tray. Heat flamed to her cheeks. “Of course I do not pursue him,” she objected. “Only the Dremore Treasure. Oh, Saddie. I have solved the last verse. ‘Tis so exciting.”
“That dratted treasure. I should have known. Lord Dremore’ll have you sent to Bethlehem Hospital if he discovers you meddling again. ‘Tis madness. He don’t believe his mother’s fanciful ideas and neither should you.”
“I shall be very careful.”
“Like you were in Biddleage?” Saddie gave an unladylike snort. “Why did you want the sketch of the rooms? ’Tis a greater danger than you know to court the lion in his den.”
Daphne opened her mouth to protest.
“Don’t try to fob me off with some tale or other. You mean to go to Dremore House and not to call on the baron or his mum.”
“I’ll make certain Lord Dremore is not there,” Daphne defended.
Saddie put her hands on her hips. “How do you mean to do that?” She shook her head. “No, don’t tell me. There was never any stopping you. Mark my words, gel,” she shook a finger in Daphne’s face. “No good shall come of this.”
Staring at Saddie’s retreating back, Daphne’s elation slipped away. Trepidation niggled into its place. She plunked down in Geoffrey’s chair and studied the Dremore House floor sketch.
“How to know when Richard is from his house?” Daphne murmured, now uncertain about the project. “Dare I ask Mr. Blanchard about Richard’s plans?” She dismissed this. “That would be far too obvious. The last thing I want to do is draw Mr. Blanchard’s attention to this matter. He is far too interested in the treasure to sit idly by while I search.”
Daphne thought for a time and then drew a fresh sheet of paper from the centre drawer. She dipped a quill into ink and put it to paper. When the missive was sanded and sealed she stared at it with distaste.
Have I truly sunk this low? She worried her bottom lip. “I fret about entering his house uninvited. What about stealing his family’s treasure?”
Daphne thought of the leering heavy handed Wardick. I must attempt to find the treasure.
* * * *
Close, but not close enough to the Stratton’s residence to be easily observed, Eldridge reined in his team. Why did she call on Overton? The man I set to watch her said she was quite happy when she left there. “She goes out so little it has to mean something. Let’s see what happens now.”
Some time later Eldridge watched a shabbily clad footman leave the Stratton’s house. He spied a glimpse of white in the man’s hand and whipped up his horses. Following the faded blue-garbed footman at a distance he soon deduced where the man was headed. A frown marred Eldridge’s features.
What could the Stratton chit be up to now? Why would she send Dremore a note?
He tugged his hat off and shoved a hand through his hair. Does she write due to ire with Dremore over Geoffrey’s gambling? Or is it the treasure? Have I erred? Has he gained her confidence? Does she now work with Dremore? Anger flared.
Eldridge reined in before Dremore House in time to see the man he had followed hand a missive to the butler. Leaving his horses with his tiger he alighted.
“I’m to fetch back an answer.”
Eldridge heard these words as he approached the pair. “No need to announce me,” he threw at the butler. He sauntered past him and headed to the library where he found Dremore.
“Mr. Blanchard has just—” The butler fell silent when he saw Dremore’s cousin. He strode to the baron at his desk. “This was just delivered, my lord.” He held out the salver in hand. “The fellow says he was told to await a reply. Shall I send him on his way?”
Richard plucked up the missive, broke the seal, and glanced at the signature. “Return in a few minutes, Brakenwood.
Eldridge took a seat to the side of Richard’s desk. “Business matter, old chap?”
“No. More of the Strattons,” Richard said as he drew out a clean sheet of paper and then checked his quill.
“Not more trouble for you, I hope,” Eldridge said.
“Perhaps an end to it,” Richard clipped. “Stratton wishes to meet me at Brooks’ Wednesday eve. To make an apology.”
But Geoffrey is not in Golden Square, Eldridge thought. I left him at Brook’s. He could not have written this note. Eldridge’s estimation of Daphne Stratton hitched a notch upwards. He almost grinned at the chit’s audacity in forging the note. “How very obliging of him. Shall you?”
His signature finished with a flourish Richard sanded the few lines. “Is there any way to avoid it?”
“I doubt you want the man searching you out. It could prove dashed inconvenient,” Eldridge said. He added a negligent shrug when Richard gazed at him intently. “’Tis nothing to me. You shall do as you think best. As you always do,” he sneered.
Chapter Eleven
London
October 3rd
Daphne sat ramrod straight in the hackney headed for Dremore House. Seated beside her, Saddie seemed to tsk every other minute. Daphne, however, was grateful her companion offered no further lectures and demanded no conversation.
Nervously tapping her foot, Daphne wondered why she was torn between belief in the best or worst of Richard. Why must she question doing something that could not truly harm him?
The hackney turned into Mayfair Square and slowed.
“You are certain both Lady Laurissa and Lord Dremore are out for the evening?” Saddie asked.
“I am certain,” Daphne told her. “Be easy, Saddie. When Mr. Blanchard called this afternoon he told me the baron had an appointment at Brooks’s. All will go well.” She looked out and saw they were four houses from Dremore’s. Daphne tapped on the roof. “Please halt here.” Looking at Saddie, she frowned.
Doubt jangled its chain a little louder.
“Perhaps I am wrong to do this,” she said guiltily. “Certainly I should not involve you.”
“Rest easy on that score,” Saddie said brusquely. “I wish you would reconsider this scheme but I am reconciled to it.”
Daphne depended upon and trusted Saddie’s judgment. She wished it wasn’t quite so dim in the hackney so she could better assess her companion’s true feelings.
“Take nothing that is his,” Saddie told her sternly. “If you do find the treasure, ‘haps you might consider returning a part of it to Lord Dremore.”
Daphne sighed. “I am not certain I shall find anything this eve. The clues are not as clear as I would wish. However,” she added more to herself than to Saddie, “the fact that there is a great deal of laurel leaf carved in the library bodes well.”
“Perhaps if you went to Lord Dremore—”
“To do what?” Daphne asked impatiently having rejected that idea several times. “Do you believe he would willingly exchange a treasure we do not possess for Geoffrey’s gaming vowels? No, I must make the attempt.”
Saddie took her hand. “Take care,” she cautioned.
With a grim smile Daphne nodded.
“I will keep watch and whistle loudly if Lord Dremore appears before you return,” Saddie told her.
Daphne wrestled with her conscience the entire distance to the house. But by the time she reached the front of the building she had her plan firmly in mind. Walk up these steps like you are making a morning call, she prompted and continued up the steps. At the door she tapped once, lightly. On a lark she tried the door.
To her surprise it swung open. Daphne stared into the dimly lit foyer. It somehow seemed mean spirited to take advantage of the butler’s failure to lock the door; to get him into trouble if she was discovered.
Stiffening her resolve, Daphne crept over the threshold and quietly closed the heavy door. In the soft glow of the wall sconce’s candles she saw that her hand trembled as she lit the night candle left for Richard. Reciting the verse to calm her nerves, she followed the memorized diagram’s path. Relief was deep when she found the library.
Pausing in its doorway, Daphne raised the candle she carried and surveyed the bookcases lining three walls. Light glinted off the gilt titles; winked conspiratorially at her.
“So many books,” she breathed miserably. “Where shall I begin?” Daphne walked to the nearest bookcase and tenderly fingered the soft leather spines. They reminded her of the decaying state of the library at Trotter House; of the books Geoffrey had already sold.
Angered by that and the state of their finances, Daphne set her mind to the task. “Through thrice twice by Calibis Sea,” she quoted the verse’s last line. With some effort she had learned that Calibis was a river near Rhodes; that the verse indicated books about the Mediterranean or Greece.
Reading spines or removing books to open them to find the title proved tedious and warming. Daphne had taken off her bonnet but now she unfastened her cloak and placed it across the closest chair. Wishing a plague on the plethora of books on seemingly innumerable subjects, she doggedly continued. As she finished the second bookcase her candle began to gutter.
