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Authors: Joan Vincent

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BOOK: Never to Part
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“On my honour, I mean you neither harm nor insult,” Eldridge assured her. “But say you shall hear me out—-in the presence of your maid, of course.”

“Miss McRae is my companion,” Daphne corrected him. Then, quelling her distaste for him, she gave a slight nod. “As you wish, Mr. Blanchard.”

“Perhaps I could help you with your selections?”

Daphne knew him little but his aura had roused unease in her from the moment she met him.
Was his intent kind
? His aura was now benign and told her nothing. Had she misjudged him?

At Saddie’s nudge Daphne gathered her wits about her. “Another time perhaps,” she said evasively and entered the library. To her dismay he followed them inside.

At the desk Daphne laid her book on the counter. To her surprise the clerk who had been rude during her last visit beamed.

“Miss Stratton, so good to see you. We have obtained a copy of Miss Edgeworth’s
Ennui
which I know you particularly wanted to read. Shall I wrap it for you?”

“But-–but my subscr—”

The young man leaned close. “Paid for the quarter,” he whispered.

Delight and then confusion swirled through Daphne. She was about to ask how that could be when the clerk nodded conspiratorially towards Eldridge now perusing books on one of the shelves.

Daphne followed his nod. Her eyes widened with surprise.

“Just this morn,” the clerk confided with a wink. “I’ll wrap this book while you check if there any others you would like to take with you. “May I wish you happy?”

Dismay sank Daphne’s gratitude for humiliation averted. Indignation flared. Only her brother had a right to pay her bills.
Did Eldridge act so to expose her to scandal and ruin? Had not his cousin done enough in that regard?

But you were the one who offensively mimicked his aunt’s awkward gait and disparaged her unreasonable fervour about the Dremore Legend
, Reason asserted just as quickly.

Daphne hurried away from the knowing gaze of the clerk. She pretended to browse the bookshelves while she debated what to do. After a time she realized that, if he acted in kindness, anger at Mr. Blanchard’s action was foolhardy in the extreme. He had insured her continued reading pleasure, one of very few she had in her straitened circumstances.
But why? To ease her way? Or embarrass her further
?

Daphne glanced at Eldridge often as she made a few haphazard selections.
Have I misjudged him
? she wondered time and again. After her books were stowed in Miss McRae’s netted bag Daphne decided to evade the gentleman. She motioned her companion to follow and slipped out of the lending library.

They were barely ten strides down the street when Eldridge caught up with them. “Miss Stratton, please allow me to apologize,” he pleaded. “I have no desire to dismay you any further than my dreadful cousin already has.”

Daphne, startled by this criticism of Richard, was further shaken when the swirl of orange overpowered the white in Eldridge’s aura. Truths and lies but lies were the strongest.

“I want to apologize for his behaviour,” Eldridge continued, his voice rising. “I wished to make amends in this small way. Please let me explain.”

The questioning glances of those strolling past them decided Daphne. A scene would risk further embarrassment. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “No explanation is necessary.” To her amazement his features twisted as if burdened with great sorrow. His aura however, did not contain the browns of true sadness.

Eldridge jerked off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Dremore’s behaviour towards you has been monstrous,” he said tightly. “I learned the entire truth only a few days past. You were treated abominably at the hands of my cousin’s guests and at his, but I have learned of far worse.”

The orange in Eldridge’s aura flared brightly. Daphne tamped down the urge to ask questions. Since she was unable to pick individual truth from amidst lies, his answer would be useless.

“Lord Dremore did what he thought best to protect his mother. Please excuse me,” Daphne half whispered.

Blocking her way with a proffered arm, Eldridge smiled tightly. “Miss Stratton, please walk with me.”

“Do so, Miss Daphne,” Miss McRae whispered in the young woman’s ear. She gestured at those gawking at them. “It will cause less comment. The gentleman looks like he’ll not leave you alone until you do.”

They walked in silence with Saddie several paces behind them for a time.

Eldridge placed his hand over hers on his arm. “I deeply regret the shabby treatment you have been dealt, Miss Stratton. I learned a strong spirit was in the drinks you were served and that other young ladies goaded you into what you did that night.

“But let us not speak of that which can only discomfit you. I regret the truth did not come out that eve. Even more I am sorry I have not been able to persuade Dremore to see the incident happened because spiteful gels disliked his attention to you.”

Could it have been the young ladies
? Daphne wondered. If so it would answer one question that had deeply troubled her. But it did not excuse her. “My actions were very unwise and unkind,” she said weakly.

“Perhaps, but understandable when seen in the light of the true circumstances. You meant no harm. I wish with all my heart that I could say the same for Dremore. The street is far too public for such a discussion. May we continue this conversation after we reach your home?”

Daphne halted and searched his features. Chagrin and regret flashed in the blue eyes so like the baron’s. “If you believe you must,” she said uneasily.

“You are, as ever, kind to a fault,” he said and hastened their progress.

 * * * *

Daphne led the way to the sitting room filled with chagrin. This could only embarrass them both. She turned and summoned a weak smile. “There is nothing for you to say,” Daphne told Eldridge. “I thank you for the lending library subscription but I insist on repaying it as soon as I am able.”

“I have said damnably too little,” Eldridge answered with a grimace. “Dremore is—”

“Family,” Daphne cut in. The surge of blue in his aura bespoke deep anger. “One’s family must be accepted with their graces,” she thought of Geoff, “and their flaws.”

“I wonder that you can speak so kindly, ma’am,” Eldridge said with a wondering shake of his head.

“To act in defence of one’s mother cannot be a flaw,” she answered softly.

“But,” he gazed at her sharply.

Daphne watched his eyes widen as if some realization dawned.

“You do not yet realize—do not yet know,” Eldridge clipped his words, his tone both woeful and startled. “Your brother—” He shook his head. “Pardon me, ’tis not my place to speak of such matters.” He strode away but wheeled back to her.

“I cannot allow you to linger in ignorance. Family honour prods me to do something to make up for what Dremore has done . . . is doing to your family.”

Puzzlement and curiosity halted the objection that rose to Daphne’s lips. But again his aura showed truth and lie.

“The library subscription is a very small thing—-negligible in the face of Dremore’s actions,” Eldridge insisted. “Forgive me if it caused you embarrassment. I meant it as a kindness.”

His heightened colour and obvious discomfiture puzzled Daphne. His aura steadily darkened. That had always indicated the individual intended harm of one sort or another. “There is no need for concern about anything your cousin has done, I assure you.”

“’Tis what he continues to do,” Eldridge said in agonized tones. “May I speak to you in utmost confidence?”

“Calm yourself, sir. You are overwrought for no reason. ” Daphne sought a way to end this unpleasant interview.

Eldridge ruffled his hand through his hair as he turned away and then back to her. “How good you are,” he said. “How damnable Dremore’s actions.

“No,” he put up a hand to forestall her protest. “Listen. Then you shall not be so kindly disposed towards me. ’Tis my fault. If only I could have foreseen his intent.”

The orange obliterated the white in his aura. Lies. “You must not let your emotions run away with you, Mr. Blanchard.”

“My apologies, Miss Stratton. I am making a cake of myself,” he said abjectly. “How low I must be in your estimation.”

“I do not think the worse of you, sir,” Daphne said. Resigned, she added, “Speak if you must.”

“If only you were not so alone in the world,” he protested.

“My brother—”

“Is young, impressionable, and not in possession of a great deal of common sense at the moment,” Eldridge said. Bitterness tinged his words. He drew in a deep breath.

“Dremore became very heavy handed when he succeeded his father in the barony. His mother was appalled by his treatment of you,” he stumbled, “that evening. But being totally dependent upon him, she could not object.” He lowered his eyes and wrung his hands. “The matter is so painful to me, Miss Stratton.”

“Then out with it,” muttered Miss McRae at the door.

It almost unnerved Daphne that his aura was now white—he spoke truth. “Lord Dremore only acted to protect his mother,” she insisted quietly. She lowered her gaze to her tightly gripped hands in her lap.

“You give him far too much credit,” Eldridge said bluntly. “I have hesitated to speak on so painful a family matter. Painful for both you . . . and me.”

The anguish in his voice drew Daphne’s gaze back to his. His auras said he believed he spoke the truth. But then it flared—stronger, darker, more disquieting.
What was he about? Whom did he mean to harm
?

When she said nothing, he continued. “To my everlasting regret, I introduced your brother to Dremore shortly before the house party at Heart Haven. I had no idea my cousin intended to lure Stratton into such indiscrete acts. When I did learn what was happening, I begged your brother to stop before he lost everything. Do forgive me failing in that.”

Daphne could not conceal her disbelief. “Lord Dremore—‘tis he who has led my brother to—to gamble so deep?”

“Dremore is not the man he appears. Many have been and are mistaken in their good opinion of him,” he said bitterly. “After my parents’ deaths I was raised with him. I cannot tell you how I was punished because—but no, I shall not speak of such things.

“Only because of my great concern for you and your brother—I had to warn you. Do not think ill of me.”

“Fear not, sir,” Daphne said, though unsure of what to believe in his jumble of fact and deceit. If true, this was a side of Richard and his mother she had not seen the barest hint of at Heart Haven.

“It is too little I do,” Eldridge told her. “I have done what honour bade me do. I regret I it is not in my power to do more.” He grimaced a smile. “I fear that soon you shall need to discover the Dremore Treasure to recoup your brother’s losses. ‘Tis fortunate Lady Laurissa shared the secret of the verse with you before—”

As though aware of an indiscretion Eldridge took her hand and bowed over it. “Of course matters are not that desperate. I shall take my leave before I distress you further.”

 

Chapter Three

 

Soho Square, London
September 10th

 

Daphne’s trembled with trepidation as she entered Sir Joshua Overton’s study.

An old family friend, the tall thin gentleman, his white hair awry in oddly angled tuffs, greeted her with a warm smile. As usual, Sir Joshua’s aura was kindly. The knowledge of it enabled her to keep a grip on her determination to seek his aid.

“What a morning for you to be out, Daphne,” he beamed as thunder boomed outside the windows and rain tattooed against them. “But how good it is to see you.” Sir Overton rose and hurried around his desk and took her hands in his. ”My but it has been far too long.”

She met his accessing gaze steadily.

“How long has it been? Is it two years already?”

Daphne nodded. “Geoffrey and I deeply appreciated your kindness at the time of Father’s death.”

“Come, you are chilled.” He ushered her to one of a pair of leather chairs.

“How is that rapscallion of a brother of yours?” Sir Joshua chuckled. “If I recall aright, your father was concerned about the lad. I told him it was just the natural exuberance of a young man and that he would come aright with time.”

“There have been—-ah—-some—difficulties of late,” Daphne tripped lightly around several possible pitfalls. She hoped she had adequately concealed the dark circles beneath her eyes and her desperation. Before she lost her courage she added, “That is why I called this morn.”

“I am glad you came to me.” Sir Joshua motioned Daphne to sit and then poured two glasses of sherry from a bottle on a side table. Handing her one, he took the chair opposite her.

“To old times. Good times,” Sir Joshua offered raising his glass.

Tears threatened at the memories this toast conjured. Daphne thought of the small yet delightful gifts Sir Joshua had brought on his frequent visits; his enthusiasm for charades; his patient and tender help with the care of her father through his final illness. Daphne raised her glass in salute and then took a long slow sip as she fought to regain her composure.

A benign smile curved Sir Joshua’s lips. He cradled his glass. “You were once used to visit quite easily with me. Is it so very difficult now?”

Daphne gingerly set her glass on the table between them. “You have always been—are family, Sir Joshua.” She clasped, unclasped her hands, and then clasped them again nervously.
This is a poor way to repay such friendship
.

He leaned forward and put a hand over her white knuckles. “Tell me all,” Overton urged.

With a voice that shook despite her best effort, Daphne told of the reversal of fortune that began with a change in Geoffrey six months past. “I didn’t realize until a few days ago that it all began after he was introduced to Lord Dremore,” she reluctantly concluded.

Sir Joshua mulled over her story in silence. After a time he shook his head. “I find it difficult to believe Dremore would lead anyone to gamble. He has always been a sober steady fellow. One little inclined to games of chance.”

BOOK: Never to Part
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