Never to Part (24 page)

“That is a stance I can appreciate,” a man said behind them. “Keep your hands raised and turn around.”

“He has a pistol pointed at you,” Daphne gasped.

Richard turned. He saw a bearded man with a cocked pistol pointed at his chest just beyond the dim lamplight.

“Don’t,” Daphne protested. She sat and then jumped to the floor. Facing the man with the pistol she held out her hand.

“’Tis just a trifle. A jest between—”

“’Tis nothing of the sort,” the man scoffed with a dangerous wag of the pistol barrel. “She dies if you do not hand it over at once,” he warned Dremore.

Cold fear squeezed Richard’s heart. He reached inside his jacket and tossed a parchment scrap at the man. “Take it.”

“How generous,” the man sneered. “You were always too dammed generous. But no more.” He grabbed up the paper with a triumphant cackle.

Richard’s head reeled. He knew that voice. Knew who would think him too generous.
Eldridge
.

“Ricman, do something,” Lady Laurel whispered frantically. “Eldridge means to kill Richard.”

“What doest thou advise, wife? That I step in front of the pistol?”

“Now ‘tis not the time to jest unless you mean your title to go to that black hearted son of a—”

“My love, such language.”

“He is cocking the pistol,” Lady Laurel shrieked.

“Be of stout heart,” Lord Ricman told her and flew toward Eldridge.

Even as Richard realized it was Eldridge, he saw a chair fly up and towards his cousin. A split second later the roar of the pistol reverberated in the chamber.

Richard heard Daphne scream, saw her lunge for him as he staggered back beneath the blow as the weapon’s ball pierced his shoulder. Through the slowly dispersing cloud of smoke from the discharge of the pistol Richard saw Eldridge slowly approach. He struggled to stay on his feet. Leaning on Daphne he tried to think.

A door slammed somewhere close by.

Richard heard Eldridge swear viciously as he halted and then run out of the public room.
He’ll get away
.

“Richard?” Daphne said, her tone anxious and urgent.

“I’ll be all right,” he said through gritted teeth trying to help as she struggled to get him to a chair. His legs almost refused to cooperate. “Get the innkeeper. Have him find that bearded fellow and lock him in a chamber.”

“But you are bleeding,” Daphne protested.

Richard realized his upper left arm burned like fire. He clamped a hand over it and found sticky wetness. Richard collapsed into the chair they had finally reached. “I’ll do until you get back. Go,” he urged.

“At least hold your handkerchief against it,” Daphne fretted. “I won’t go until you do so.”

The moment he complied, she dashed out of the public room screaming for the innkeeper.

Richard tugged his handkerchief free of his pocket and a smaller square fluttered to the floor. Realizing it was the cloth he had discovered when he tried to find his candle he picked it up and laid it across his thigh.

The “DS” carefully embroidered in one corner caused his breath to seize. Doubt chewed at Richard.

Daphne and Eldridge
? he wondered yet again.

A pang, like an arrow from the quiver of Phthonos, the mythical god of envy, struck him. It hurt far worse than his wounded shoulder.

“I don’t believe it, at least not until I get word back from the Runner I hired. They’re due for a dammed surprise if they are together in this,” Richard said grimly. He fumbled in his pocket again and drew out a piece of crumpled parchment. Smoothing it, Richard gazed at it grimly. What a lucky chance that he had left the old verse in his pocket. That was the one he had tossed to Eldridge.

 * * * *

Daphne hovered outside the door as the doctor bandaged Richard’s arm. She’d relived the moment Richard was shot, more frightened each time.
Why did I ever take up the hunt for the treasure? I will not see Richard harmed. I could not live knowing I was responsible—

For the man you love’s death
? her heart pried the thought free at last.

A hand to her heart Daphne sank back against the wall.
The treasure or the lecher Wardick
? She shuddered and gulped back a sob that almost choked her.
What choice was there
?

“Miss? Miss, are you quite all right?” the doctor summoned to treat Dremore asked.

“Yes, of course,” Daphne stammered.

“You are Miss Stratton?” At her nod, he continued. “The gentleman would like to speak with you. He’ll come to no harm from his wound if he escapes infection. He’s a tad out of sorts at the moment and liable to be curt with you,” he told her and trod heavily towards the stairs.

Daphne glanced at the door of the maid’s room where Saddie now slept. Resolving to tell Richard all, she strode into her former chamber. Her heart melted. He looked so pale and weak lying propped up by pillows. Daphne was certain pain furrowed his brow and then she saw his expression.

“Do not be angry with me for stealing the lead on you, Richard,” Daphne began. She sank to her knees beside the bed and took his hand. To her amazement he pushed it aside. Chilled to the bone by his cold demeanour Daphne slowly rose.

“All fair in love and treasure,” he said and paused. “Even shooting me? Did you plot with Eldridge?”

“Mr. Blanchard?” Daphne’s eyes widened. “The bearded man?” That was why he was familiar. But what had Richard said?

“Plot with?” Daphne repeated, belatedly catching his meaning. “How can you—?” Stunned into silence by his hollow look, she caught the bit of cloth Richard tossed at her.

“’Tis yours?”

She looked down, forced her gaze to focus on it. “’Tis one of my handkerchiefs. But—”

“You should be more careful. It fell from your pocket when you helped Eldridge knock me unconscious. Must have been quite a shock when I appeared. You are a very adroit actress to handle that so easily.”

“But you yourself warned me of Mr. Blanchard’s deviousness. He put this by you to bring doubt between us,” she protested.

“Denials will do you no good,” Richard said heatedly and then slumped back on the pillows. Even through his pain he knew he was acting badly and probably unwisely. “I won’t have you risking your life for a non-existent treasure. Tell me the whole of your troubles and I’ll take care of the matter.”

Daphne bit her lip. The past few days with last eve’s severe fright and sleepless night had frayed her nerves to the breaking point. Her back went up on the word
won’t
and anger rose at his condescending offer. “’Tis a Stratton family matter, my lord,” she said rigid with anger. “We take care of our own.”

“With another family’s treasure,” Richard snapped irritably and winced in pain. “We’ll speak more on this on the morrow.” He closed his eyes. “Please leave me alone now.”

Daphne watched as he turned his face from her. Her plans and dreams fell, ashes about her feet. She tried to speak, to explain and deny, but words wouldn’t come.

Four days after they bolted from The Hound Daphne assisted Saddie down from the mail coach at the cross roads nearest the village of Shenley. She was as exhausted as her companion but fatigue had done little to ease the shattering effects of her last interview with Lord Dremore.

With plenty of time to think, Daphne realized Richard had good reason to suspect that the Strattons were in league with Eldridge. She and Geoff had played into Richard’s foul cousin’s hands at every move. The anger that that comprehension produced had saved Daphne from complete despair. It had driven her to form a plan, a plan hinged on the strangest certainty that she would find an answer for all of her problems and Richard’s only if close to Heart Haven.

Daphne took Saddie’s arm as they tiredly crossed Shenley Green and approached the small cottage on the other side. Suddenly their arrival loomed as an imposition. She had nothing to offer Nanny. Trepidation rose with each step. But the village was near Heart Haven. That was paramount to Daphne.

Richard’s refusal to listen to her, his bitter words had hurt. But worse was the loss of his trust. During their journey Daphne had finally realized how Richard was like those whose auras she could not see. They were all people she loved.

The cottage wavered in a sheen of threatening tears. Daphne sniffed. She jumped when Saddie thrust a handkerchief at her.

“Blow your nose,” Saddie commanded prosaically. “When in pain, men are not the brave souls we’d like them to be. Lord Dremore will come to his senses. Why when Geoffrey broke his arm—”

Embarrassed that she was so transparent, Daphne pushed aside the white square. She strode to the door and rapped on it.

“She doesn’t appear to be at home,” Saddie observed quietly when no one answered.

Her bravado crumbling, Daphne swallowed hard. She rapped on the door a couple more times. To her vast relief it slowly swung open. The nanny who had raised her from a babe stood before her, whiter of hair and wider of girth.

“Miss Daphne?”

On a sob Daphne stepped into her open arms.

Later that evening Nanny Hayley motioned from her rocker for Saddie to refill their cups. She rocked slowly back and forth. “That be a tale,” she mused.

“I’ll understand if you don’t wish us to stay,” Daphne said.

The old nanny smiled. “You ne’er were one to bend the truth, child. Now your brother—” She chuckled softly. After a moment she bent a piercing gaze on Saddie.

“Say you this match won’t do?”

“No matter how much gold lined his pockets,” Saddie sniffed. “Mr. Wardick is a wicked old man.”

“So is Lord Dremore by the telling,” Nanny Hayley noted.

Seeing Daphne stiffen the old woman shook her head. “It bears thinkin’ on a day or two. Some answer’ll be found.”

 * * * *

“Tis sad the couple didn’t seek some covert nigh at hand;

A shady grove not far from their goal;

Twined lovers plait the obvious foil;

That promised aid the tempest to stand with love true and spy Blaine house’s special bower;

Where love confirmed, laurel’s magic free’d by new moonbeam’s power;

Reveals the secret lair at strike of midnight,

the hidden depths as yet unknown,
” read Richard aloud. “Greater nonsense follows,” he told Christopher Gunby as they shared a glass of brandy before the library fire. He turned the paper over, grimaced and continued.

“If they but triumph over invidious lure and loves bloodied pride;

Great joy will be Branch’d of long ago;

Happy knight himself did once possess;

His lady’s laurel crown unspoiled;

And ever when he did her behold;

His heart did melt in pleasures far richer than gems and gold.”

“The last seems perfectly clear,” Gunby grunted.

“A treasure of gems and gold?” Richard stared at the paper, and then tossed it on the table between them.

"I’ve oft wondered what comprised the treasure. If it truly existed,” drawled Gunby.

Richard stared morosely at his hands. Best to pretend interest in the verses instead of confessing how badly he handled the situation at The Hound. “Don’t you think it odd? Two verses instead of one?”

“May be the last you’ll get. What’s the your mater say?”

“She arrives this afternoon,” Richard answered after a brief consideration.

“I thought you wrote to her from The Hound.”

“Told her to close up Heart Haven before she came.”

“You didn’t ask her if she knew of a
Blaine’s House
?” asked Gunby in disbelief.

“There’s no rush.” Richard drank, then stared into the depths of his glass. “I have no need of it if it does exist,” he said harshly.
How could Daphne refuse my offer of help? Why did she run away
?

“Pardon, my lord,” the butler said at the door. “There’s a person to see you. Says his name is Butterworth.”

“About time, Richard muttered. “Bring him,” he said and drained his glass and set it down.

“Who’s this?”

Ignoring Gunby, Richard stood and faced the door.

A burly man strode in, hat in hand. He halted and sketched an awkward bow. “Ev’n, milord.”

“What have you learned?”

“The gel,” Butterworth began.

Richard glared at him.

“Miss Stratton,” Butterworth corrected. “She ain’t been near Mr. Blanchard. He’s cozy nuf with her brother, though. Both seem put out some thet there ain’t sight nor word of her.”

“Have you located Miss Stratton?”

Butterworth shook his head. “There’s been nary a whisper about her. From what I’ve learned she won’t be headin’ anywhere her brother might ‘spect to find her.”

“Why?” demanded Richard, eyes narrowing as he watched the former Runner shift his weight.

“Mr. Stratton means to force her to wed old Wardick. Has to get his hands on money ta pay his vowels. Ceremony’d be o’er except for lack o’ the bride.”

“What?” Gunby gasped in disbelief behind them. “That bilious old lecher?”

“Stratton made the arrangements?”

Butterworth shrugged. “Yer cousin did the actual business o’ the matter.”

“What else have you learned?”

When the man finished Richard gave further orders and dismissed him.

“No wonder she’s desperate to find the treasure,” Gunby noted. “Will you share these verses with her if he finds her?”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me about Wardick?” Richard wondered aloud. He walked to the fireplace and held his hands out to its warmth. “Strattons taking care of Strattons? What a farce and Blanchard behind it all. Damme that brother of hers too.”

“Richard.”

“You’d best leave Gunby.” Christopher’s eyes bore into his back but Richard refused to say more. A chill that no fire could warm had encircled his heart at The Hound when he discovered Daphne had fled. Fled from him. He could not, would not share that with anyone.