Romancing Her Rival - Joanna Barker Page 0,11
at it. Perhaps such a gift might soften her aunt.
“I would love that,” Aunt Hartwell said. “And I would love to watch you do it as well. You have a great many talents, Daphne. I haven’t any idea why some charming gentleman hasn’t already stolen you away to the altar.”
Daphne’s steps faltered. Did she truly not know? Did she not realize what the loss of her inheritance had done to Daphne’s prospects?
Aunt Hartwell went on, oblivious to Daphne’s reaction. “I have no doubt I’ll be traveling to London for your wedding within the next year. Surely there is at least one suitor who has caught your eye?”
“No,” Daphne managed, her voice taut. “No, and I don’t predict any great flood of potential husbands in the near future.”
Finally her aunt sensed the change in her voice, and she turned to scrutinize Daphne’s face. “What do you mean, dearest?”
Daphne did not respond and understanding dawned in Aunt Hartwell’s eyes. “Oh. I see.” She sighed. “I think there is a conversation we need to have, much as I wish to avoid it.”
She led them to a stone bench under the shade of a nearby tree and sat, patting the bench beside her. Daphne closed her parasol as she sat, attempting to hide the sudden shaking in her hands.
“Daphne,” Aunt Hartwell began, her posture perfectly straight, hands clasped in her lap. “I know you have heard about Mr. Everard and Cheriton. And I imagine you have a great deal of questions.”
Daphne took a deep breath. “Just the one, really.”
“Why am I leaving everything to him instead of you?” Her voice was soft, gentle. Daphne nodded, not meeting her eyes. “The answer is a bit more complicated than you think, but I owe you it all the same. You must know I care a great deal about you. I’ve loved you since you were a child, and made it a point to always invite you to visit. I wished for Cheriton to become a refuge for you, like it has been for me.”
“It is,” Daphne insisted. “I love it more dearly than any building in England.”
“I know you do.” Now Aunt Hartwell looked away. “But unfortunately, I have other considerations to weigh. Your parents, for one.”
“My parents?”
“Yes,” she said. “I shall put it plainly so as to avoid confusion. I do not trust your mother and father.”
“But… but you would leave Cheriton to me, not them.”
“Unfortunately, it would be one and the same. I have been watching you these last years, Daphne. Your mother has far too much influence over you, and I’ve yet to see you defy her in any way. Then, of course, there is your father, who has a greater interest in the gambling tables than in your future. What is to stop them from taking all I have built over the last four decades and destroying it with their wasteful ways?”
Daphne’s chest caved in, a fragile flower caught beneath a carriage wheel. “I…” She paused to gulp a breath. “I would not let them.”
Aunt Hartwell grimaced. “I wish very much that I could count on that. But I know your mother too well. She excels at manipulating others, especially where you are concerned. And I’ve no doubt she would use Cheriton to keep up her current lifestyle, even to the detriment of the estate.”
“But I will marry eventually.” Daphne grasped at any argument to jump into her head. “Then my husband will control the estate.”
“Of course I’ve thought of that,” Aunt Hartwell said. “But as I haven’t any idea the type of man you will marry, I cannot take such a risk. Cheriton is everything to me.” Now she stopped, blinking rapidly as she cleared her throat. “Since my Phillip died and left the estate to my charge, I have made it my life’s work to make it prosperous, to protect our tenants and lands. And I must give Cheriton the best possible chance of a safe future. Which is why I have chosen Mr. Everard. He not only loves the estate, but he understands its inner workings better than anyone besides myself.”
Daphne’s breaths felt too fast, too warm, even in the heat of the day.
Aunt Hartwell took her hand. “I am sorry, my dear. I know that you built up certain expectations in your mind. I love you both as my own, and I hate to create a rift between the two of you, and between you and I.”
Daphne could not speak. She stared down where Aunt Hartwell clasped her