Never to Part (18 page)

Jealousy roared through him but he shook it off. He may wonder what part she played at Blanchard’s conniving in his cousin’s scheme but did not doubt Daphne. If only he knew what his cousin’s scheme was. “Damme him,” Richard cursed.

Daphne started at the murmur; stared up at the baron.

Richard walked to her. He saw red creep up her cheeks and knew she responded to his presence just as his body did to hers. He ached for what no longer seemed entirely impossible and couldn’t help but wonder if she did too.

Nerves jangled as Daphne’s gaze softened and then hardened. Richard wanted to shout at her. Would he ever get past these battling emotions? He yearned to hold her, to keep her safe, but also to shake her until she told him the truth.

He stalked towards Daphne and was further irritated when she hurriedly stood and stepped back from the table. A whiff of her scent, earthy and provocative, tempted him; fed irritation into anger. He planted his palms on the table in an effort to regain control. “Have you discovered the identity of the paramour?”

He watched Daphne glance at the desk his mother worked at as if hoping to conjure the baroness.

“Not as yet, my lord,” she answered.

“But there is a paramour present.” Richard stiffened, aghast at his words. He watched all colour drain from Daphne’s features.

“Is that whom you believe struck you in the back in Biddleage?” she asked with heavy sarcasm.

Biddleage. Warm pliable lips that sparked utter chaos; hair like spun silk.

Lord Ricman put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene. “Go—kiss her, fool, or thou art not blood kin of mine.”

“I fear that would not be wise on his part the way matters lie,” Lady Laurel told her husband as she swayed around him.

“But it always soothed thy temper,” he grinned after her.

With an answering moue, Lady Laurel surveyed the papers and texts spread on the table. “Why do they not read my diary?” she asked with a frown. “Don’t they realize thee would never have mentioned that—that Elizabeth Petworth in thy scrawls?”

“My love, she pursued me. Thee canst believe I would choose her scrawny form over thine,” her husband protested. He walked up behind her and reached for her.

Lady Laurel shrugged away from him. “Thou shalt not work thy wiles on me, rogue. Remember our purpose.” Walking to the desk where the baroness had worked she began looking for a journal bound in red leather.

Richard stalked around the desk. He followed Daphne’s backward pace until the bookcase behind her halted her retreat.

“
That ‘tis more like a Blanchard,” Lord Ricman crowed.

Lady Laurel triumphantly lifted a book bound in red leather from the desk. “’Tis here.”

“My lord,” she said as he planted his hands against the bookcase on either side of her head. “Would you steal my kisses the way you robbed Geoffrey of his funds?” Daphne whispered.

Stung, Richard sneered. “You are much like your brother. Are lies and innuendo your suit?”

“I am not a thief.”

“But you work hard to become one. How dare you abuse my mother’s hospitality?” Richard half snarled a laugh. “But then you’d abuse anyone to please your friends or to find a fortune.”

Daphne bristled, furious. “How dare you. You said whoever found the treasure had the right to it.”

In the absolute silence that followed her words a book landed with a resounding thud behind them.

The combatants turned as one toward the sound. They stared at the book that lay on the floor several feet from the desk.

“What is going on in here?” Lady Laurissa demanded from the doorway. Her gaze studied the pair and then lowered to the red leather bound book on the floor.

“Have you mishandled this book?” She hurriedly strode to it and gently picked it up. “It never should be thrown or even dropped. Well?” she challenged as she carefully paged through it to make certain it was unharmed.

Richard exchanged a questioning glance with Daphne. How could the book have fallen, much less into the middle of the room? “No,” they said as one and walked toward the baroness.

“What is its title?” Richard asked.

The baroness lifted her gaze from the page she had just read. “This is Lady Laurel’s journal.”

Excitement coursed through Richard. Forgetting everything he turned to Daphne. “Do you think—”

“Her husband would not have mentioned a paramour’s name but if Lady Laurel learned of her—”

”My dears,” the baroness crowed, “you have solved the mystery of where to look for the paramour’s name.”

“Whose name?” Eldridge asked as he strolled into the library. His gaze fastened on the book Lady Laurissa held and then to Daphne.

Richard sensed he was very alert to the possibilities. “Some long lost cousin’s.”

“But not what you seek?” At Dremore’s nod he turned to Daphne. “Since the weather continues to plague us, come and stroll with me in the long gallery. It will relieve you from tedium,” Eldridge said pleasantly.

A smug smile almost tugged at Richard’s lips as he watched Daphne struggle with a reply. He didn’t realize just how much he hoped she would fob off his cousin until she agreed.

 * * * *

Eldridge and Daphne climbed the stairs to the long gallery in silence. Once there they halted before the full-length portrait of the first Dremore’s.

“I wonder what the old fellow would have thought about being blamed for those caper witted verses,” Eldridge wondered aloud.

Daphne looked at him sharply.
What purpose does he have now? To distract me? To learn if we’ve had any success in our hunt?
Cynically she thought all correct. “You do not think the first baron wrote the clues?”

“Who knows,” Eldridge said with a casual shrug. He took her hand. “I care not, except for what you wish.”

“The legend says—”

“Whatever my aunt wants it to say,” Eldridge sneered.

Daphne strolled to the next portrait.

Clearing his throat as he joined her, Eldridge said, “I fear I have a message that will distress you.”

Gazing at him quizzically Daphne flinched. The orange in his aura flared with a black tinge. He was very upset with her.

“Your brother bolted for London,” he said. “I feared so when he did not return last eve.”

“He would not go without taking leave of me,” Daphne protested.
But was that true
? she wondered, and had to admit it had been some time since Geoff thought of her first.

“I mean to return to London in the morn. I can only hope your brother is too jaded from the journey to gamble deep.”

“No,” Daphne shook her head. “We visited last eve. He admitted he had erred.”

“I’m sorry, Daphne. I should have warned you. Now I fear you will fall into Dremore’s power while I am gone.”

“That is nonsense,” Daphne said. “I’ll return with you.”

“No, ‘tis best if I alone attend to your brother. You know how he can be,” he added. “Do you not have further work to do here?”

“Not if you believe Lady Laurissa lies about the legend.”

“Determined as she is that no one but Dremore will find the treasure, she changes it to suit her needs.” Eldridge put a hand atop Daphne’s. “We shall foil her by having you find it. That is most important at the moment.”

“But Geoffrey?”

“Do you not trust me?” Eldridge asked.

After a long moment she said, “I must, Mr. Blanchard.”

He caught her hand and brushed it lightly with a kiss. “Thank you, my dearest Daphne. I insist you use my given name.”

 * * * *

Daphne stood before the window opposite the portrait. It rained still. She longed to go and walk in it. To let it bathe her face, uplift her spirit, and cleanse her soul.

The image of Eldridge’s face, so like his cousin’s and yet so different, formed before her. Then it morphed into Richard’s.

A shudder racked Daphne. She wrapped her arms tightly about her waist. Geoffrey gambling again. Were they sinking beyond utter ruin as she watched the rain? She was certain Eldridge lied but to what purpose? Why else would Geoffrey have left without a word?

I should go back to London with . . . that man
. Bile rose in her throat. She could not force herself to travel with Eldridge. Guilt rose at remaining at Heart Haven; for deceiving the baroness about what Eldridge knew of the verses. And Richard. While he angered her at times, Daphne believed him when he told her he had not led Geof to gamble deep. No Richard made her uneasy for a far different reason. What it was, she feared to ask.

 * * * *

That night Lord Ricman and Lady Laurel stood on opposites sides of the bed.

“Do you think he is truly interested in Miss Stratton?” Lady Laurel asked as they watched Eldridge Blanchard sleep. They had already rearranged his belongings and added their own touches.

“Bah, not this one. He’d use anything Richard likes to goad him. This is no different,” Lord Ricman said his features as harsh as his tone. “Told her that brother of hers went to London to gamble—’Tis vile to so abuse the girl.”

As if aware of their displeasure, Blanchard stirred uneasily in the bed.

“What shall we do?”

The first baron Dremore pursed his lips. “We must undo the damage he has caused between Miss Stratton and Richard. We must haunt him every second when he is alone with the girl.”

“Her heart still leans to our lad. I can see it when she looks at him when no one is watching her,” Lady Laurel told him.

“But she does not openly trust him. They must work together if the legend is to survive.”

His wife gripped Lord Ricman’s hand. “At least they now know which book to read. ‘Tis this vermin’s fault they will not do it together.”

“My sweet, such language,” he teased.

When Blanchard rolled over onto his stomach, Lady Laurel motioned for her husband to follow her to the window. With his help she opened it. Both smiled as the cold breeze caused the curtains to flutter.

“What the devil!” Eldridge cursed as he struggled to get free of the blankets and sit up. He gasped, chilled by the cold breeze. Light glinted off a half-raised window pane.

“How did that open?” He lumbered out of bed and immediately screeched wildly as he hopped from foot to foot.

Several minutes later, the tacks removed from his feet, Eldridge lit a candle. He angrily swiped the remaining tacks aside as well as the laurel leaves scattered among them as he stomped to the window. After he slammed it down, Eldridge hurried back to the bed and sat.

Fuming, Eldridge recalled that he had played just such a trick on Richard when they were ten. “Bloody hell,” he swore roundly. He looked down at the laurel leaves amid the tacks and slowly smiled. They’re presence reminded him about the information he had learned about the effect of laurel when administered without due care. Eldridge got into bed and pulled the coverlet close. He was reaching to draw his candle close enough to blow out when he saw the water pitcher on the wash stand rise into the air.

“This gives me great pleasure,” Lord Ricman murmured as he walked to the bed, raised the pitcher full of water over the man, and dashed the contents over Eldridge’s head
.

With utter disbelief Eldridge gaped as it floated to the bed and then tipped over pouring the cold water over him. He vaulted out of bed scattering water as he flapped his arms. Invectives streamed from him like leaves before a wind.

His sodden nightshirt jerked off, Eldridge checked his robe carefully before he donned it. A long and thorough search of the room revealed no secret pulley. No sign of how Dremore had managed the feat. The pitcher, he saw, sat once again on the washstand.

Laurel leaves fluttered across his feet.

Bitterness honed for many years boiled over at sight of the symbol of Blanchard luck.
I wasn’t certain I’d use the deadly laurel leaf but now I shall. More than the treasure will be mine when this is done.

Eldridge ground the sprig into the floor with his heel. “When Heart Haven is mine, not a single laurel tree will remain.”

Richard entered the sun-bathed breakfast room without a word of greeting to the other occupants. He took portions of the various foods set on the side table with a precision that belied his inner turmoil.

“Did you not sleep well?” the baroness asked as he took a seat at the head of the table.

“Soundly,” Richard replied as he cut the portion of beefsteak on his plate.

“And you, Eldridge?” the baron asked to direct the conversation away from him.

“You know very well I slept badly the last half of the night,” Eldridge replied coldly.

Lady Laurissa glanced from one to the other. “Why would Dremore know that?”

Eldridge scowled. “Nothing but a bit of childishness. It matters not. I depart in an hour.”

Surprise flared across Lady Laurissa’s features. “Has a problem arisen that takes you away so soon?”

Richard paused, a forkful of beef half way to his mouth, when Eldridge looked at Daphne. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when she did not look up from her plate.

“A minor matter that I don’t wish to delay attending,” Eldridge assured her and took a sip of coffee. “Did you find your reading interesting last eve, Lady Laurissa?” he asked.

The baroness fluttered a hand. “Tedious. There was such crossing and re-crossing of lines. Most confusing.”

“How fortunate you peruse it for pleasure alone.” Eldridge set his coffee cup down and rose. He bowed to the baroness and Daphne on the other side of the table.

“I bid my adieus now.”

Richard saw that this time Daphne met his cousin’s gaze; that Eldridge nodded, to her before he left.

His cousin’s retreating footsteps and the ticking of the balloon clock on the mantel were the only sounds in the breakfast room as Richard watched Daphne push a bit of scrambled egg around her plate.
What was the nod about? Is she sorry to see my cousin leave
?