Romancing Her Rival - Joanna Barker Page 0,29

like with the goats. For a moment, his mind flashed to the letter that lay open on the desk in his study. He’d received yet another offer from Mr. Steele just that morning, almost double what he’d offered last time for that parcel of land. Whatever Aunt Hartwell had said to the man last night, it had only sharpened his determination.

But Cole did not bother to mention it now. He already knew what her response would be.

“There is actually something I wished to discuss with you.” Aunt Hartwell’s voice brought him back, and he focused again on her.

“What about?”

“My future plans,” she said. “I have been giving this a great deal of thought and I think it is time for a change.” She rose abruptly and went to the window, staring out over the green waving grass. “My husband devoted himself to this estate. He loved it, almost as much as he loved me.” She gave a sad smile. “When he died, I vowed to care for it like the child we’d never had. And I think I have kept my promise, don’t you?”

“Undoubtedly,” Cole said, though his brow was furrowed.

Aunt Hartwell turned back to him. “It is time for the next generation to step in, I think.”

He straightened. What did she mean?

“I have decided to relinquish control of Cheriton,” she said simply. “I may not look it, but I am tired. But you have the energy and the knowledge to hold this estate together, and more than that, to help it thrive.”

“But…” His mind raced. “What will you do?”

Aunt Hartwell grinned. “I have spent the last forty years in Kent or in horrid London. I am going to travel, Mr. Everard. I’ve barely seen the smallest part of my own country, and I intend to change that. Cornwall, Wales, Scotland. My friend Mrs. Tilton and I have been talking of it for years, and now our plans will finally come to fruition.”

He must have looked as dumbfounded as he felt, because she hurried to explain. “I’ve made all the arrangements with the solicitor. You’ll have full control of the estate, the money, everything. Since contact with me will be slow and unreliable while I am away, I hardly want you to be waiting on me for decisions on every little thing. I trust you to do what you think is best, keeping my wishes in mind, of course.”

“Of course,” he murmured absently. Aunt Hartwell, gone? Traveling? She’d mentioned the idea over the years, but he’d always thought it was in the same way one considered a change in home or occupation—wistfully, but with no real intention of following through. When she left, he would be on his own, no father or owner to guide him. He’d wanted it for years, but now the prospect felt much more daunting.

Aunt Hartwell returned to her seat. “I’ve shocked you, I see. But I have no doubt you’ll rise to the occasion, as you always do.”

He nodded. “I… I am grateful for your trust in me. I will do the best that I can.”

The uncertainty slowly faded, and then thoughts and ideas jumped through his head like summer grasshoppers. Everything he’d wanted to do, to change about Cheriton, had suddenly become much more real—and possible. Mr. Steele’s letter came again to his mind and he swallowed. Was even that change within his reach?

“I know you will.” Aunt Hartwell eyed him thoughtfully. “I ought to tell you something else. I plan to invite Daphne to come with me.”

“Daphne?” With every new thing she told him, it was as if she were hitting him upside the head with a riding crop. But this one… “Will her mother allow it?”

“Daphne is of an age to choose for herself,” Aunt Hartwell said. “What that choice will be, I hardly know. She is not one to take risks or go against her mother’s wishes. But I intend to provide her with options, since I—” She exhaled. “Since I removed the one she depended on.”

Cole leaned back in his chair, papers in his hands long forgotten. Daphne had been a constant in his life—she had always come back to Cheriton. But he could hardly count on that now. It was shocking enough that she hadn’t married yet. He could not expect everything to remain as it once was.

The thought of Daphne far beyond Kent—even to Scotland, perhaps—made his throat tighten. It could be months, perhaps even years, before he saw her again. However, if that was what she chose,