Never to Part by Joan Vincent Page B

heart, Miss Stratton.”
    Shaken by Richard’s words Daphne hurried to the table where Mary sat with cards in hand.
    Her friend leaned forward. “What was that about?”
    Not trusting her voice Daphne shook her head. After the first game of piquet she pleaded a headache and asked to be excused. “Good eve,” she nodded to Mary but didn’t dare look to Richard.
    “Lady Clandon. Sir Clandon. Mr. Tailor.” With a dip of a curtsy, she continued to ignore the baron and strolled unhurriedly out of the salon.
    Once in her chamber, Daphne paced and furiously plotted what to do. A plan selected from those she had considered during the journey from London, she quickly began to implement it. After changing into a dark merino gown of simple cut, Daphne climbed into bed. She blew out her night candle and settled in to wait until the house was quiet.
    Glimpses of moments at Heart Haven loomed in the dark like lightning in an approaching storm. Why can I NOT see his aura ? she lamented. Surely there has to be a reason . She thought of her father and mother, of Saddie and her brother—she had never seen their auras. Maddeningly no answer came.
    “ Turned him murderous and blind with rage ,” Daphne quoted from the verse and shivered. “I will not think of what could have been,” she vowed, but a tear slowly slipped down her cheek.
     

Chapter Eight
     
St. George Cemetery
Biddleage
     
    His unusual preoccupation with the moon-cast shadows annoyed Richard but also made him uneasy. He ignored the urge to lengthen his stride and hasten his steps as he walked towards the cemetery beside the church of St. George. When a dog barked, Richard raised the hooded lantern he carried and slowly swung it in an arc. He saw nothing but the village draped in shadows in the shades of grey and black.
    “Nonsensical to be so on edge,” he said and continued walking towards the cemetery. ‘Tis a bloody damnable coincidence Miss Stratton is visiting here on the same day I arrive, but is that all it is?
    It’s nonsense to wonder about it. There is no way she could have come into possession of the second verse.
    A slight rustle of swirling leaves sent an unexpected chill up the baron’s spine. Richard looked over his shoulder and then chuckled derisively. “Miss Stratton is safely tucked in bed at Clandon Hall. There is little else to fear in Biddleage.”
    The words conjured up a vision of the young woman, not dressed as she had been this eve, but lying atop the coverlet of a large bed wearing a diaphanous gown. Blood surged to his groin.
    Swearing under his breath, Richard sought for anything that would banish the persistent longing that pulsed in his veins at the mere thought of Daphne. The image of Blanchard yesterday in the library rescued him.
    If only he hadn’t come into the library silent as the proverbial cat on mother’s heels. For all his nonchalance and innocent posing I swear Eldridge saw the verse long enough to read it. He has always been a sly devil. I’d put naught beyond him .
    “Could Eldridge have figured it out and followed me?” Dremore wondered aloud. Does he believe in the treasure ?
    With a stern reminder that only dislike of his cousin made him suspicious and that the legend was more myth than truth, Richard put aside any concern from that corner. He turned his thoughts to the problem of the lock and the lack of a key.
     * * * *
    Daphne halted behind a tree at the edge of the green opposite the church and cemetery. She checked in all directions as well as she could in the darkness. Nary a creature was astir. The sudden bark of a dog startled her. Daphne pressed close behind the tree and waited.
    Jaw clenched and grip tightened on the piece of firewood she had purloined on her way from Clandon Hall, Daphne counted ten after silence returned. She eased away from the tree and looked in the direction of the cemetery. At the edge of the green the looming church blocked sight of the mausoleum.
    To weaken a sudden bout of