cleared his throat and dropped his arms to his sides. Of course. They should not be alone.
“I’ll leave you now,” he said, stepping back.
“Oh.” A look of uncertainty crossed Daphne’s eyes, and she folded her arms around herself. “Would you stay? I—I might need help with my hair.”
His stomach took a tumble, as if he’d tripped while dancing a reel. Settle down, he told himself. It means nothing.
“Of course,” was all he said aloud. Hang propriety. If Daphne wanted him to stay, he would stay.
He watched as she twisted up curls of her hair, feeling about with her hands since she had no mirror. His eyes followed her slender, gloved fingers, familiar in their work, and tried not to wish he could take her hand in his again.
Daphne sighed as she turned to him, still prodding her lopsided curls. “It is probably not much better than before, but did I miss any?”
One wisp of curls still spiraled down her neck, her skin a tempting blend of cream and blush in the firelight. He stepped forward, removing one glove. “Just here,” he said softly, and his hand brushed her neck as he lifted the lock. Daphne stilled beneath his touch, not seeming to breathe until she gulped and hurriedly handed him the last pin. He slid it gently into her hair, adjusting it to make sure it was secure.
“Perfect,” he said.
She met his eyes, and it took more strength than Cole knew he possessed to not kiss her then and there.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded and forced himself to step back, though he held out his arm. “Shall we? You still owe me another dance, after all. Unless your memory has taken another hit.”
She exhaled a laugh and took his arm. “I think I remember well enough.”
After checking that the corridor was empty, they slipped out the door and made their way back toward the ballroom. Daphne was quiet, and Cole was glad, too consumed with his own thoughts. She could not know, he decided. She could not know how he felt, not when the foundation of their renewed friendship was still so unsteady. He had enough to fix without adding the confusion of his heart to the mix.
Her hand tightened slightly on his arm as they stepped back inside the ballroom, and he inhaled a deep breath. Not now.
But perhaps someday.
Someday.
Chapter 7
My dear Daphne,
It has been far too long since I’ve had a letter from you. I had thought we decided before you left that you would write me at least three times a week, but I’ve only had two letters in the entire fortnight you’ve been gone. Do take pity on your poor mother and write me with more regularity. You know I depend upon you to keep me informed.
On that topic, I am hoping you might ease my concerns about your last letter. You mentioned you were attempting to do as I suggested, that is, reclaim what is rightfully yours by revealing Mr. Everard’s unsuitability. And yet you did not specify what your plan was. I only ask because of course you know I am quite adept at managing situations such as this. I do wish I might attend to the problem in person, but Aunt Hartwell has made it perfectly clear she does not wish for my company at present. But if you apprise me of your present course, I would be glad to offer my advice.
Daphne lowered her letter with a grimace. Of course Mother would wish to offer her “advice.” Having to remain in London while Daphne went to Cheriton was likely the most difficult challenge Mrs. Windham had ever encountered, accustomed as she was to managing her daughter’s day to day affairs.
Daphne read the rest of the letter—skimmed it, really—and then set it on her writing desk. She had no energy to summon up a proper response to her mother at the moment, still exhausted from the ball the evening before. Although, that wasn’t quite right. Her tiredness had not come from dancing, but rather from the sleepless night that followed. Images of Cole’s concerned eyes kept flashing through her mind, the gentle brush of his hand against her neck as he’d pinned back her curl. Her hand went to her hair, twisting and toying with a curl as she imagined his fingers doing the same thing.
She dropped her hand and sat up straight. She was being silly. He’d only been helping her.
Which was also problematic. Because try as she might, she could not