Never to Part (5 page)

“You know him?”

“His mother and I are old friends. But ne’er mind that for the moment. What is it you think I can do to assist you?”

Heat flared to Daphne’s cheeks. “I was . . . I was hoping you would grant me a loan—to cover household expenses and—and the like,” she ended, crossing her fingers at the half truth. Daphne darted a guilty look at him and then centred her gaze on her once again tightly clasped hands.

“In truth,” she said lowly, “I have no idea when I shall be able to repay you.”

“Not to worry, child,” Sir Joshua assured her. “If you will excuse me for a few moments?”

Daphne nodded. The moment the door shut behind him she sprang from her chair and began to pace about the room.
Sir Joshua knows Richard and his mother. He doesn’t believe the baron gambles recklessly. Why would Eldridge Blanchard lie about this to me? To what end? His aura is dark, even sinister at times but he has no reason to harm me. Is it but my silly heart that wants to cast Richard in a better light
?

Daphne halted before the windows and watched the rain course down the panes. She recalled Richard’s aura when they were introduced. It bespoke a good man. But since that first time something shielded it from her.
Why
? A chill that had nothing to do with that outside the windows seeped into her veins.
What has he in common with others whose auras I cannot see
?

Sir Joshua startled Daphne back to awareness of her surroundings when he trod heavily back into his office. She reluctantly let go of the unanswered question and turned to face him.

“This should help for a time.” He handed her a brown paper wrapped packet tied with string. “I shall see what I can learn about Geoffrey and the fellows he runs with. We must find a remedy for his present behaviour.

“Will you call next week as this time and tell me how matters are?” Sir Joshua asked.

The firmness behind his kindly manner did not permit a refusal. Relief flooded Daphne when a rap on the door gave her the means to end the interview. “Thank you, Sir Joshua. I shan’t take up any more of your time.”

The butler opened the door and held it.

Daphne halted abruptly when she saw he meant to announce someone. Then she saw the gentleman. The thrill of recognition jolted her. Her lungs refused to function; her mind spun; her blood pulsed wildly. She held the gentleman’s gaze for long seconds and could almost hear the air crackle between them.

“Dremore, a pleasant surprise on a rather nasty day,” Sir Joshua greeted the new arrival. “Perhaps it will be best if I put off going to my club as I planned this morn.

May I introduce Miss Stratton?”

The baron blinked and stiffened. “We have met,” he said curtly. With a slight nod he acknowledged Daphne’s presence. “Permit me to take you to your club, Sir Overton.”

Daphne sensed Sir Joshua’s glance. She winced, knowing Richard’s cut would draw his interest.

A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes in the office. The steady drone of rain silenced everyone for a moment.

Then Sir Joshua looked back at the young man. “That would be very good of you, Dremore.

“Abbott, fetch our cloaks and an umbrella. We shall see you safely delivered first, my dear.”

“It is not necessary,” Daphne protested. She saw relief flicker in Richard’s eyes and her heart twisted.

“I cannot allow you to go out in such weather, my child. It is a bumble broth day.” Sir Joshua turned to his other guest. “Come, Dremore, speak up.”

The baron stood impassive. When the silence stretched he said tightly, “The weather is very miserable, Miss Stratton. It will be no trouble.” He accepted her cloak from the returning butler and held it for her.

Daphne drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves, turned, and waited for him to place it on her shoulders. When his hands touched her shoulders his scent invaded with ruthless force. Her knees went weak. When she reached to secure the cloak Daphne brushed Richard’s hand. Her heart treacherously hammered; weakened the caveat that he was the enemy.

Seconds turned into an eternity, and then Richard removed his hands from her shoulders. The glint in Sir Joshua’s eyes told Daphne he had noticed the baron’s hands linger on her shoulders longer than necessary. The elder gentleman’s look said
Fortuitous match. An answer to your troubles.

“But I’ve Miss McRae with me,” Daphne said brightly. “We wouldn’t think of discommoding you, my lord.”

“Nonsense,” insisted Sir Joshua and took her elbow. “Dremore is not high in the instep.

“Ahh, here is Miss McRae. Let us be on our way.”

The footman hurried out before them with an umbrella raised high to ward off the rain and opened the coach door. Daphne and Saddie clambered in and sat with their backs to the horses.

Sir Joshua paused before entering. “Do let me sit there my dear,” he told Daphne and motioned to the other side.

Miss Stratton had barely settled when she heard Richard call out her address to his driver. How could he know where she and her brother lodged? ‘Twas further proof of Eldridge Blanchard’s words. That she edged closer to the window when he entered and took the seat with her was missed by no one.

Only the drumming of the rain broke the silence in the coach until Sir Joshua asked, “How fares your mother, Dremore?”

“Not well, sir. The ague has worsened since she arrived in London Monday last.”

“I do hope it is not serious,” Daphne said impulsively.

“I know the depth of your concern for my mother,” Richard said with sarcastic hauteur.

When Saddie blinked in dismay and then reddened with anger Daphne sent a silent plea to her. She was thankful when her companion choked off an objection.

Daphne furtively glanced at Richard’s stony visage; saw past the sternness.
How tired he looks. Is it from worry for his mother or late nights of gambling?

The thought irritated Daphne. “Did you by chance see my brother last eve, my lord?” she blurted.

After a long moment Richard gave a slight nod.

His hesitation made Daphne uneasy but she continued. “At the Seton fete?” When he met her gaze and clenched his jaw she wondered if it was a sign of guilt or of something else.

“It was later in the evening. At a—a private party.”

“Miss Stratton’s father and I were at Eton,” Sir Joshua said startling both. “A fine gentleman. Gone two years now.

“He would have enjoyed meeting your mother, Dremore. He had a deep interest in the metaphysical much like Lady Laurissa.”

“He—” began Daphne.

“She—” said Richard at the same moment.

Sir Joshua continued without waiting for either to finish, “The legend of the first Lord Dremore is quite interesting. Have you ever heard it, Daphne?” he asked.

Heat warmed Daphne’s cheeks but she would not prevaricate. “Lady Dremore shared it with me at a—a recent house party.”

“Most interesting. She only does that when she believes—

“Ouch!” Sir Joshua exclaimed.

Daphne watched him reach down and rub his ankle. She wondered what had happened and then noticed a sprig of leaves atop Richard’s rain spattered boot.

Straightening in her seat Daphne bit her lip.
A sprig of laurel? Yes, the leaf is just like the sprig I took from the laurels pruned into a heart shape at Heart Haven. Doesn’t laurel play a very large part in the legend of the Dremore Treasure?

Daphne glanced at the baron. He now sat stiffly staring out the window seemingly unaware of anyone inside the coach. She was far too aware of him.

Laurel
, Daphne pondered
. Lady Laurel . . . Lady Laurissa. Did every bride of the Dremores bear some derivative of it?
Daphne’s thoughts turned to the stories of the ancient Greek gods she had oft discussed with her father. She brightened at thought of a specific story but then shook her head.

The Daphne of the Greek legend was turned into laurel. Now this sprig. What does it mean? Dare I refine anything on it?

Richard took the umbrella from the footman and held it over Daphne’s head. He thought too late of how close that would bring him to the young woman and her scent. Her disturbing enticing scent. It wended its way around the shell of his hardened heart. The urge to apologize for his severity upon that infamous occasion this past June, to ask for an explanation took him unawares. He spoke harshly because of it.

“Ladies do not go about in such weather,” Richard sniped.

Upset by the unsettled sensation his closeness sent skittering through her, Daphne bit her lip. “You needn’t say more my lord. Your opinion of me is quite clear.”

“Stratton should keep a tighter rein on you.”

Daphne halted and turned abruptly. His cravat brushed her nose as she raised her chin. “You dare to speak of my brother, you—you degenerate—”

The urge to kiss her; to turn the angry fire in her eyes into passion almost overcame him. Then her choice of words jolted him. “That term is better used for your brother,” Richard half snarled.

“Of all the—the low things to say,” spluttered Daphne. She spun on her heels and dashed for the door.

Richard stared at it after it slammed shut behind her.
Not well done. Not at all well done
, he thought remorsefully as he clambered back into the coach. Angered by his reaction to the young woman as well as his inexcusably rude behaviour, Richard wondered what had become of his sanity.

Back in the coach the baron silently took a seat. He almost ground his teeth when Sir Joshua flashed an inquisitive smile at him. What had possessed him to agree to this fool’s errand of his mother’s today of all days? Richard drew a calming breath. The faint hint of lavender and female invaded him; tightened his groin; squeezed his heart.

The scents conjured up that moment in the garden when he had stepped near her and breathed deeply of the mingling of lavender and Daphne’s essence. He had brushed his lips across her hand. A spark of anticipation had surged through him. Unwisely he had lingered in a gentle kiss across her lips.

How close I came to taking her into my arms at that moment.

He thrust off regret.
How close I came to disaster. I suppose I owe my cousin thanks after all
, he thought bitterly.

“My lord?” Sir Joshua said and reached across the coach to touch the baron’s knee.

Lost in thought, Richard started. Warmth flooded his face when he saw Overton’s gaze upon him intent with curiosity. “Yes?”

“Your reason for calling on me today?”

“Oh. That,” the baron thought to prevaricate, then shrugged surrender. “Rather an errand for my mother. She insists she had once sent you some documents concerning the ‘legend’ and wished me to fetch them.”

“Oh dear me.” Sir Joshua’s brow wrinkled. “To the best of my knowledge she is in error on that head.”

“I have no doubt of that but I had to ask,” Richard told him with evident relief. “May I tell her you shall search for them?”

“Of course I shall. One’s mind forgets much as the years parade by stealing bits and pieces of it.” Sir Joshua laid his fore and middle fingers to his cheek.

“Do you not believe in the Dremore Treasure?” he asked.

Richard loosed a scoffing laugh and shook his head.

Overton tapped his cheek twice then lowered his hand. “One should listen to one’s mother if one wishes to escape the pitfalls of life. But ne’er mind, each poor soul must learn that through his own folly.

Settling back in his seat sir Joshua asked, “What do you know of Geoffrey Stratton’s forays into gambling?”

Guilt rose like bile. Dismay flashed in Richard’s eyes.

“I have heard he has run into dun territory,” the older man tried again.

The bothersome Stratton’s
, thought Richard.
If only Blanchard had never introduced me to Daphne’s brother
.

  * * * *

Daphne breezed into the kitchen with angry strides and a loud “harrumph.”

Miss McRae bobbled the cup in her hand and almost dropped it onto the tea tray she had hurried to prepare while the young woman put away their cloaks and bonnets. “What ever is wrong Daphne?”

“He is rude, arrogant. The worst of men.” Daphne slammed one hand palm down on the cabinet. The dishes on the tea tray rattled.

“Surely not Sir Joshua,” Saddie exclaimed in disbelief. “He refused the loan?”

Daphne rubbed her forehead. “No, of course not. Sir Joshua was more than generous.” She dropped her hand and leaned limply against the cabinet. “But he expressly wished me to control my brother’s gambling.”

“How on earth are you to do that?” Saddie snorted as she tapped a fingertip against the kettle to see how warm it was.

With a shake of her head, Daphne shrugged. “I shall have to find some way. If only we could return to Ashley Green.” She could not conceal the new sharp edge on her sorrow.

“Did Sir Joshua’s request put you so out of temper? ‘Tis reasonable I suppose.”

“Sir Joshua is all goodness. Lord Dremore is not,” Daphne clipped. The humiliation of his cutting remarks had struck her to her core. How dare he speak to her in such a manner? She straightened and thrust back her shoulders, determination in every line. “He shall not succeed in ruining us.”

“Lord Dremore? But why should he want to . . . ? I mean that little misunderstanding about his mother . . . ”

“Misunderstanding,” Daphne snapped.

“I’d take care if I were you, Daphne,” Saddie implored. “Lord Dremore’s right powerful. And,” she hesitated, “and your brother may be in the wrong of it.”

“What about Mr. Blanchard’s warning?” Daphne asked stubbornly even though she knew Saddie was right.

“He has no reason to be fond of his cousin,” the older woman cautioned. “I’d trust naught that he says.”

“Lord Dremore admitted meeting Geoffrey at a private party last eve. Private party, bah! That means some kind of gaming establishment,” Daphne said, her words edged with scorn.

“Go to the sitting room,” Miss McRae soothed. “I’ll bring the tea as soon as ‘tis ready. It’ll settle your nerves.”