Never to Part (11 page)

Daphne raised her gaze to his. “I am very sorry for my behaviour last June. It was unconscionable even with the liquor in my drinks. I have never before been ape-led like that.”

“Apology accepted,” Richard offered gallantly. “A truce it must be since we have both apologized. Surely you see the benefit for both of us,” Richard offered. “We could search for a way out of our current situation as well as work on the verse’s solution.”

“Do you truly offer a truce?” she whispered watching his features closely.

“What harm is there in one?” Richard sighed when she did not reply. “There is no treasure, Miss Stratton. But solving the verse could,” he raised his hands palm up, “pass the time in a far more amusing manner than glaring at one another.”

Atop his figure Lord Ricman shoulders sagged. “Idiots. I have sired idiots.”

“My brains will tell true,” Lady Laurel assured him sweetly.

“How do you suggest we solve it?” Daphne asked warily.

“Study everything here. Let’s stroll around this monstrosity a few times and then compare what we see.”

“Monstros—”

Lady Laurel silenced her husband’s protest with a kiss.

Daphne nodded her agreement and then slowly circled the empty tomb. She ran a hand over the ornate sword hilt in the first Dremore’s stone hands searching for a trigger of some sort. Finding none she said, “Could it be possible that another meaning of Gemini is implied in the verse.”

“’Tis also a constellation.”

“I don’t think that can be the meaning for the verse. Is the sky visible to you?”

Richard shrugged, his brow furrowed in thought. After a bit he grimaced a smile and offered, “’Tis translated as twins. Perhaps it means two of something.”

“Two figures,” Daphne agreed as she patted Lady Dremore’s stone hand. “We need to find two dryads. I wonder why he chose them.”

“Dryad is another name for nymph,” Richard explained. “The nymph that couldn’t bear the embrace of Apollo was turned into a laurel tree. If you hadn’t noticed,” he added wryly, “laurel leaves are very symbolic in my family history.”
Now you’re an erudite jackanapes
, he thought too late.

“How could one not know that—Intertwined laurels,” Daphne said dryly. She sank onto the bench that was against the wall at the front of the tombs. She stared up at the heads puzzled by two faint auras atop the figures.

“What is this?” Richard asked halting close to the bench. He raised the lantern high.

Excitement coursed through Daphne as she followed his gaze. She jumped up. “Please give me your hand,” she said. Taking it when Richard held his out, Daphne stepped atop the bench for a better view. Brushing away the dust she studied the figure closely. “It looks like a nymph,” she exclaimed.

“I saw one just like this in the village church,” Richard said slowly. “Perhaps together they are the pair we seek.”

Hopping down, Daphne heard a dull plunk. She bent over and picked up a piece of metal that she must have knocked off the bench. “What is this?” She held up the object which was four inches long with a five-sided fluted ball at one end.

“This may be a key,” Richard mused.

Daphne looked to the door.

He shook his head. “No. I believe it is the key to the lock on the box I saw beneath a window in the church.”

A metallic creak turned both to the door. Before their eyes it slowly swung open.

With a curtsy to the auras beyond it Daphne said, “Thank you, ‘spirits.’”

Richard lowered the shield on the lantern. “A suitable jest.” He smiled and made a gracious bow to the open doorway. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”

Running past him to the open door Daphne called back, “Hurry. Don’t tempt them to lock us in again.”

“Them?” he said with arched eyebrow as he followed.

“’Twas you who said a spectre hit you in the back. Would you travel alone if you were a spectre?” she asked as Richard pushed the door shut behind them.

With a shake of his head Richard started towards the church.

Daphne remained in place. She looked around and saw the auras floating toward the church.

“Come along,” he whispered.

Daphne hesitated. If only she dared tell him about the auras. With a regretful shrug she joined him.

Inside the church Richard led the way to the window with the stone box. He held up the lantern.

“The figure here is the same,” Daphne whispered. She followed his hand and saw etched figures and the hole in the box. With a silent prayer she slipped the fluted edges of the object she had found in the mausoleum into the hole.

“Turn it,” Richard urged.

Both watched the metal slowly circle to the right when Daphne applied pressure. A soft click followed. The front of the box slid forward a half inch.

Richard eased it out another two and tried to reach inside. “My hand is too large,” he said. “See if you can feel anything inside it.”

With bated breath Daphne gingerly wriggled her fingers in the opening. They brushed against paper. She used two as pinchers to catch hold of a thin piece of folded parchment. Fraction by fraction she drew if forward until she could get a better grip. When it was free she turned eagerly to Richard.

“Please?” he said and held out a hand.

“’Tis your family,” Daphne said. She tamped down her eagerness and took the lantern from him . Then Daphne handed over the parchment and watched as he carefully unfolded it.

After staring at the paper for long moments, Richard looked up. “It is not the end but rather another beginning.”

“What do you mean?” Daphne accepted the paper and read,

“Arrived by houses crowded there they fill

No look for entertainment beyond ink and quill

That chamber has the tale to tell

Of feast grand and laurel plenty

With fair discourse the evening so they passed

Through thrice twice by Calibi’s Sea
.”

“It was the strangest experience,” Richard ended his edited explanation of what has taken place in Biddleage. He shoved away from the fireplace in his library and headed for a side table and the bottle of port upon it.

“I say, getting hit in the back by a spectre and doors unlocking and locking at will. Bloody strange,” Christopher Gunby agreed.

Uncertainty nibbled at Richard.
Daphne Stratton was an ignorant dupe as Mother said. I cannot doubt the sincerity of her apology. But my reaction to her puzzles me. I’ve nev’r behaved so with any other woman. What is it about her that lays waste to my sleep and haunts my days? Destroys my intent to treat her honourably? Those gorgeous blue eyes? Her keen mind? The joy of solving the verse with her? Joy
. He savoured the word. It fit perfectly. Well, most of the time.

“What happened with Miss Stratton? Later?”

“I never saw her after we left the church,” Richard told him. He refilled his friend’s glass and his. “She refused my escort back to the Clandons.”

“You permitted that?” At Richard’s shrug he asked, “She didn’t demand a copy of the verse you discovered?”

“You mean wouldn’t have discovered but for her. No, she did not. That alone makes me question whether or not she was there because of the mythical treasure.” He returned to his seat and stretched his legs out towards the warming fire. The burning logs crackled and sparked throwing up golden flares. They reminded him of the highlights in Daphne’s velvet brown hair. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb and index finger together recalling its texture.

“Odd for a proper young woman to go roamin’ in a cemetery at night. Alone,” Gunby mused. “You’re certain she was alone?”

“If she’d meant to trap me into marriage you can be assured she wouldn’t have been alone,” Richard answered tartly. “No one appeared to protect her honour and she was very adamant about not wishing to becoming my baroness. Unflatteringly so,” he said as if to himself.

“Then why was she there if not for the treasure? ‘Tis very suspicious.”

“Coincidence?” posed Richard blandly.

“God’s head,” exclaimed Gunby and sat forward in his chair. “’Tis clearly not by chance she visits a mausoleum in the dead of night.” He stared at his friend.

“Don’t say you’ve developed a
tendre
for the Stratton chit? Next I’ll find you’ve settled her brother’s gambling debts.”

“Have you ever known me to play the fool,” snapped Richard. He smiled to ease the sting of his retort. “Come, Chris, ‘tis a puzzle but no more than that.”

“What about the riddle in the new verse? Rather odd that line about ‘no entertainment but book and quill.’ What fun would there be in either?”

“I refuse to ever go haring after another false clue. No matter what Mother—” Richard paused then clapped a hand against his thigh. “That is how Miss Stratton came to be in Biddleage. I’d wager that Mother sent her a copy of the verse just as she sent the one to me.”

“So Miss Stratton was trying to find the treasure . . . but then why wouldn’t she have insisted upon a copy of—”

“Either she has a prodigious memory or is certain Mother will give her a copy.” Richard stared grimly into the fire.

“At what does my dear mother play? Her only desire—other than finding the intertwined heart brooch—is to see me wed.”

“Mayhaps she wants to achieve both,” offered Gunby.

“That is just devious enough for her,” Richard said tightly. “If only Mother hadn’t proven correct about Miss Stratton being duped into unseemly behaviour.”

“Egad, is that why you’ve been so against the chit? Here I thought it was her brother’s dealings that set your craw askew.”

“If my mother knew of the ilk of Geoffrey Stratton she would halt this silly plan of hers.” Richard sighed heavily. “I dislike speaking ill of anyone, even when it is the truth, but Mother leaves me no choice in the matter.” He set aside his glass and rose.

“I am set to escort my mother this eve but we can also make the rounds of a few soirees if Miss Stratton is not at the first. I want to see her face when I tell her I know all about Mother’s scheme.”

“But what if she is only your mother’s innocent dupe?”

“Miss Stratton convinced me she had been tricked into her mimicry by jealous females,” Richard told him. “She apologized for what she had done,” honesty forced him to add.

“You still doubt her?”

“I spoke with several of the young ladies who were in the Rose Salon that night. They insist Miss Stratton was urged to give a performance but that the choice of material was hers.”

“Can you be certain they spoke the truth?” Gunby asked.

“Miss Stratton makes me doubt it. She pointed out there was only loss and no gain on her part.”

“Only a heavy hand will make Mother give way once she sets on a course,” Richard told him. “But before I approach her perhaps I shall learn more about the Stratton siblings.”

 * * * *

Daphne sat among the dowagers and their charges at the Mortomer soiree. She had given up society before her visit to Sir Overton. Since then Sir Joshua had insisted upon escorting her at least two evenings a week. The penny sheets, however, had done their work. While Daphne was not cut by everyone she had ample time while out in the evening to contemplate the clues garnered at Biddleage. Doing so happily also provided some insurance against replaying certain parts of what had happened inside the mausoleum.

A memory pushed to the fore. The same odd shiver warmed Daphne as had the touch of Richard’s hand upon her neck and in her hair. The kiss and her body’s treacherous response increased that sensation—part pain, part excitement, part anticipation.

“The verse,” she reminded herself tartly.

“What was it you said, Miss Stratton?” Baroness Dremore called from the end of the row of chairs. She motioned at Daphne with her fan. “Come here, my dear.”

Doing so would probably raise Richard’s ire
, Daphne thought. Despite his apology and their cooperation she doubted she had his full approval.

It wouldn’t hurt for him to be distressed for once instead of cutting up oth
ers, quickly followed.

Lady Laurissa again waved for Daphne to come to her.

Dratted Dremores
, Daphne thought but could not bear to offend the kind baroness. With excuses to those around her, Daphne joined the dowager.

“My dear, I am delighted to see you,” Lady Laurissa prattled. She linked arms with the young woman. “Do walk with me.” When Daphne hesitated she added, “Keeps my joints from getting too stiff, but I fear walking requires someone to lean on.” They joined those strolling around the perimeter of the room set aside for dancing.

“You look a trifle pale, Miss Stratton. Have you been ill?”

“I am well, my lady. It is delightful to see that you have recovered from your ague.”

“’Twas of the trifling sort,” the baroness said easily. “I didn’t realize everyone knew of it.”

“I don’t know if they did, my lady,” Daphne told her. “I encountered your son at Sir Joshua Overton’s some days ago. He mentioned you were not well.”

“Richard is far too protective of me,” Lady Laurissa said with a hint of pique. “But he is a good son,” she reassured Daphne. “Men will treat their wives as they treat their mothers,” the baroness continued. “Whomever he weds, Dremore will cosset.”

Colour stole up Daphne’s cheeks at Lady Laurissa’s wink. “His wife will be fortunate,” she agreed with downcast eyes, then raised her gaze. “I, however, wish a more independent life.”

“Surely you seek a hearth and home of your own?”

The gambling debts that threatened to steal her hearth and home loomed like an insurmountable wall. “Of course,” Daphne said tightly. “One that no man could take from me,” she said with bitter determination.

“The Blanchard bride would be assured several homes.” Lady Laurissa flicked her fan and tapped Daphne’s wrist.

“Dremore is the most sensible and cautious man I know. Too cautious for his good,” she added with a frown.