quite reconcile the Cole from last night with the image she tried to cling to, the calculating and manipulative Cole who had tricked Aunt Hartwell and stolen her inheritance. He could not be both, could he? And if that were true, then which version of Cole was he?
She could almost feel his arms around her, holding her tight as she’d cried. Daphne swallowed, sitting back in her chair. She knew the answer to her own question.
A realization that had been building since last night lit up her mind like a quickening dawn. She knew now that her anger at Cole had been unfounded. He hadn’t tried to steal Cheriton from her—that had been Aunt Hartwell’s decision, and one that Daphne no longer disagreed with. Cole was good at his job. He worked hard and made every effort to ensure Cheriton’s success. But beyond that he was kind and honest and agreeable. He was the perfect choice, especially compared to quiet and inexperienced Daphne.
What, then, was she to say to Mother? Mother, who was clearly trying to reach through this letter and convince Daphne that Cole was the worst man to walk the earth since Cain?
Aunt Hartwell had been right—Mother did manipulate her.
Daphne pushed her mother’s letter aside and reached for the second that had been delivered that morning. Her rapid pulse calmed slightly at the sight of her friend Marah’s familiar writing. Since Marah had married three years ago, her letters had come rather erratically—her husband was a bosun in the Royal Navy, and Marah often went with him on his voyages. But her letters had always been a spot of brightness to Daphne, hearing of her friend’s adventures and travels. She broke the seal and unfolded the pages, reading quickly as a smile burst to her face.
In the next minute, she was nearly bouncing down the stairs, holding up her skirts so she did not trip on her hem. When she reached the main floor, she hurried to the parlor where Aunt Hartwell spent most of her mornings.
“Aunt, you’ll never guess—”
Daphne came to a sudden halt. Aunt Hartwell was indeed seated in the parlor, but Cole stood just beside her, rifling through a stack of papers. Both looked up at her entrance, but Daphne’s eyes went to Cole. Surprise skipped over his face, but then he smiled. There was no hesitation in his smile, only sincerity and what seemed like real pleasure at seeing her.
“Daphne?”
Daphne started, nearly dropping her letter, then turned to her aunt. “I am sorry, I did not realize you were meeting. I can come back—”
Aunt Hartwell waved her forward. “Don’t be silly. Mr. Everard doesn’t mind. Come, tell me what it is that I will never guess.”
Cole straightened his papers and took a step back, but Daphne could barely look at him, the softness of his fingers against her neck still too fresh in her memory. She moved to sit beside her aunt.
“I’ve had a letter from my friend Marah,” she said, holding up her letter as if needing to prove her interruption was valid.
Aunt Hartwell dipped her brow. “Is that the tall one with all the opinions?”
Daphne gave a small laugh, still acutely aware of Cole standing not three feet from her. “No, that is Isabel. Marah is married, with her husband in the navy.”
“That’s right,” Aunt Hartwell said. “A bit quiet, but knows her mind.”
Likely the best description of Marah that Daphne had ever heard. “Yes, that’s her. She wrote to tell me she would be visiting her husband’s family in St. Margaret’s for the next fortnight and that if I could—that is, if you’ll allow it—”
“You’d like to go see her?” Aunt Hartwell said.
Daphne nodded hopefully, and Aunt Hartwell laughed. “Well, of course you must go see her. St. Margaret’s is not a two-hour drive. In fact, I’ve been meaning to visit my friend Mrs. Tilton, who lives just past the town. Perhaps we might arrange a little outing together.”
“That sounds perfect.” Daphne could not think of anything lovelier. She loved visiting the sea whenever she came to Cheriton, and to see Marah as well? It was just what she needed.
“And do you know, I think we might need an escort.” Aunt Hartwell turned on the sofa to look at Cole behind them. “What do you think, Mr. Everard? Do you fancy a day with two beautiful young ladies? Admittedly, one is slightly younger and more beautiful than the other.”
Cole looked so taken aback at the invitation that he did not even