Never to Part (30 page)

“Snuff the candles.” Lord Ricman gave her a little shove in their direction. “I’ll see to the rest.”

Daphne saw two auras flare before her. Then they parted and one floated towards the desk, the other toward Eldridge.

A breeze abruptly stirred behind Daphne. In the next instant the candles snuffed out. Darkness enveloped the room. Hands violently pushed Daphne to the floor.

Oaths erupted; a pistol barked. More oaths and scuffling ensued.

The dull thwacks of flesh bludgeoning flesh sent Daphne frantically searching for the candelabra on the desk. As her hand touched the base of one, a chilling
crack
hung in the air. A low moan hovered in it. Silence fell.

Moments later harsh breathing approached Daphne as she anxiously sought a flint. A hand closed on her shoulder. She froze. Then, at the well-remembered frisson of Richard’s touch, she turned into the shelter of his arms. His strength testified that he was unhurt. A sob of relief escaped.

Richard held her close; stroked her back. “’Tis all right, Daphne. Don’t cry.”

“Be ye right and tight, m’lord?” a gravely voice asked from across the library. The candle in the man’s huge fist shone light on a crumpled figure not far from the door and another in the centre of the room.

“Where in blue blazes have you been?” snapped Richard.

“I didn’t wanta interrupt too early like. Ye said ye wanted to know yer cousin’s mind,” the huge man explained with a deferential bow. “He left this here bottle o’wine in the kitchen. Wouldn’t advise drinkin’ it.”

Daphne and Richard stared at the bottle a moment. She looked up and read on his features his knowledge that his cousin had intended him to die.

“Bring that candle here,” Richard ordered impatiently, still holding Daphne close. He nodded at the candelabra on the desk.

“Who are you?” Daphne asked as the beefy man lit the candles.

“Butterworth, m’lady,” he bobbed his version of a bow. “Of Bow Street.”

Geoffrey moaned.

Daphne flew to his side. Richard joined her. Together they helped Stratton to his feet. When Daphne reached to inspect his head her brother shrugged away. “I’m fine,” he said bleakly. He stared at Eldridge’s prone form.

Daphne trembled with delayed reaction. She was relieved when Richard gently led her to a chair and pressed her to sit. He fetched a glass of brandy for her and watched while she took a sip.

“Will you be all right while we tend to our ‘guest?’”

Daphne nodded. She clasped her hands tightly around the glass’ stem as Richard joined her brother.

They turned Eldridge onto his back. The runner joined them. “Broke his nose fer certain, ye did,” he offered the baron, compliment his clear intent. “Looks like his jaw be bruised. Too bad ye didn’t break it.”

Daphne watched Richard undo his cravat and pull it from around his neck. He knelt and bound his cousin’s hands. When he finished he took hold of one of Eldridge’s arms. “Help me remove this vermin.”

“My pleasure,” said Geoffrey.

“He won’t trouble ye much longer, milord,” the runner said.

After the men carried Eldridge from the room Daphne remembered the pin and the gems it held. What had become of it? She scanned the desk and the area around it. There was nothing to be seen.

Daphne decided Richard still had it. Not only had she forfeited his love but any chance of redeeming Geoffrey and their home. How bittersweet that was in face of her brother’s actions this eve. He had finally grown up. She would pray it was not too late for either of them.

The gulp of brandy Daphne took tasted like bile. She swallowed another gulp, coughed, and set the glass on the floor. With trembling fingers, she wiped droplets from her lips.

Richard’s kisses. In the mausoleum, in his townhouse library, at Heart Haven, and at the Hound. Closing her eyes, Daphne sagged back in the chair and damned her foolishness. She mourned the forfeiture of Richard’s love.

“I wonder, do you think your brother worth tears?”

Startled by Richard’s voice, Daphne opened her eyes and saw him towering over her. She had not heard him approach. Sobs threatened but she remembered Geoffrey’s effort to save her. She used that to lend steel to her spine. “Would you have had me do less for him?”

Richard opened his mouth then snapped it shut. He stalked to the sideboard, poured a glass of brandy for himself, and then returned to her.

“Geoffrey had nothing to do with your cousin’s scheme,” she said stubbornly, her gaze locked on him.

“You defend your brother still?”

“I promised my mother I’d take care of him,” she began.

A strange bark of laughter escaped Richard. “Mothers.” He grimaced as if in pain and turned away.

The long seconds before he faced her again seemed like an eternity to Daphne. “Mr. Blanchard?”

“Your brother and the runner are escorting Eldridge back to London. Once there they will make certain he
volunteers
to serve on the HMS Arburlmarle which sails on the morrow. Will you miss my cousin?”

Daphne paled. “You know I shall not.” She wondered what prompted the question as she watched emotions flit across his face. Could he possibly be jealous? She became aware he studied her just a closely.
What does he see? Can he tell this broke my heart
?

Then Richard reached into his jacket and withdrew the hearts pin.

“You searched so long and hard for this.” He lifted the top of the pin. Gems glittered in the candlelight. “Is this what you would have?”

Is this what you would have
? Daphne repeated silently. It lanced her heart. She looked from the treasure for which she had searched so diligently to Richard’s features, now masked. The blond lock had fallen forward as it always did.

What would I have
? Longing rocked her.

The right to brush that lock of hair back
.

Daphne let Richard take her hand. She watched him turn the hearts pin over and saw the precious stones tumbled onto her palm.

“Now you have what you sought,” Richard said.

His cold condemning tone burned Daphne. “No,” she sobbed and thrust the gems back at him, carelessly scattering then across the floor. “No.”

“But you earned them. Without your help I would never have discovered the pin. Remember, all’s fair in love and treasure.”

Daphne clenched her fists. “The treasure is yours.”

“What of your brother?”

Daphne looked away. The future had never seemed more bleak. Then Richard was down on one knee before her. Daphne gasped when he took her chin in hand and forced her to look at him.

“Ne’er fear for him. When Stratton returns I shall meet with him; make some arrangements to help manage his debts, his future.” He paused, caressed her cheek and quoted:

“
Beware chance missed to see the heart;

Understand a’right comprehension hangs on but a breath;

Treasure outshone by doubloons sought for reasons unwise;

If love turned, worms’ dust corrodes the soul;

Lost for’er surrender’s happiness and joy.”
Richard lowered his hand.

Daphne watched him finger the intertwined hearts. She imagined the portrait in the long gallery; the auras she had seen in June and so many times since. Her attention returned to Richard when he cleared his throat.

“The first Lord Dremore had this pin wrought for his lady.” He paused. “Family legend has it that they had a tempestuous time. They met when she tried to steal the family jewels.”

Richard wry smile twisted Daphne’s heart.

“My mother neglected to tell you that Lady Laurel also had a brother who was very good at loosing on the green baize,” he continued.

“There is no need to mock me, sirrah,” Daphne whispered.

“I do not.”

Daphne pressed her nails into the heels of her hand. “I am fortunate that you are so generous. Geoff, well . . . You have what you sought.”

“Do I?”

Daphne’s breath caught deep in her chest.

“I should have made a vow to my mother to recover the pin. She said it was important to the family; important for my happiness.”

Daphne followed his gaze to hearts locket and then to the floor in front of the desk where the slender golden key lay.

With an abruptness that startled Daphne, Richard rose to his feet and retrieved the key.

He returned to her and extended a hand.

Accepting it, Daphne let Richard draw her to her feet.

“I misunderstood what Mother meant when she said it was important that I find the hearts,” he said and laid the delicate key in her hand. “This is yours.”

Pain twisted through Daphne. “Why do you mock me?”

“Mock? Nay,” Richard smiled. “Love.”

What Daphne saw in his gaze caressed, invited.

“The key to our hearts is in your hand,” he said.

Daphne trembled. The words came unbidden. “
Intertwined laurel, intertwined hearts
. . .”

“
Where they meet, they never shall part
,” Richard finished.

Laurel leaves fluttered down from above Daphne and Richard. Two settled in the heart pin.

“Take the pin,” Richard urged. “It has always belonged to Dremore brides.” He shrugged. “The laurel leaves tell me Lord Ricman and Lady Laurel wish you to do so. Why else would they have helped us find each other?”

Daphne closed her hand about it. She stepped into Richard’s open arms.

“
And ever when he did her behold; His heart did melt in pleasures far richer than gems and gold
,” she heard Richard murmur.

“Never shall we part,” they whispered together, their kiss a passionate pledge.

“I believe we should leave them to sort this out in private,” murmured Lady Laurel. She turned her husband from the pair. She sighed as they strolled out of the library. “Our work is done for another generation.” She smiled at her husband’s question. “They are in love—it conquers all, remember?”

“But will they do as those before them have done?” Lord Ricman asked as they glided up the grand staircase.

“Another verse or two on the morrow should do the trick—but not in Spencer’s style, please.”

Lord Ricman halted, an air of insult in his stance. “Spencer said we inspired him. Lending his style is the least he can do in return,” he huffed.

“As long as they return the pin and gems to its hiding place beside the panel for the next difficult Dremore—”

“Difficult was I?” Lord Ricman purred and tugged her against his chest.

Lady Laurel laid a hand gently against his cheek. “Difficult is not the word that comes to mind when I think of thee.” She feathered a kiss across his lips.

“Wench,” he growled and kissed her hard and long.

Thank you WARA for the inspiration, plotting help, and constant support through the years. A special thanks to Rox and Pat and all of you who attended the long ago retreat during which
Never to Part
was plotted.

Copyright © 2012 by Joan Vincent

Originally published by De Rigueur Press (ISBN 978-0985291358)

Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House/Regency

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.