Mr. Everard. In fact, I have found it fairly impossible.”
Mother whipped her head around, her tight curls bouncing around her temples. “Impossible? Hardly. You simply need closer guidance.”
“I’m afraid that will not be the case, Mother.” Daphne pictured Cole, his charming dimple and dancing eyes. “I have been here for weeks and I’ve found nothing against him. Aunt Hartwell adores him”—she was not the only one—“and he does his job well. He knows the estate far better than I could ever hope to.”
Mother moved closer, her hazel eyes an exact copy of Daphne’s own. “You’ve given up,” she said softly. Dangerously. “All your life, you were promised Cheriton, and now, at the slightest obstacle, you surrender with barely a protest.”
“I tried,” Daphne said, though her voice was far weaker than she would have liked. “I promise I did. But—”
“But nothing.” Mother straightened, her cheeks pulling tight against her jaw. “I am here now, and I do not yield so easily as you.”
A month before, Daphne would have lowered her head, submitted without question. But Cole’s voice echoed in her mind. You are stronger than you know, he’d said. Stronger than any of us know. She raised her chin, though her knees felt wobbly.
“It will not change anything,” she said. “Aunt Hartwell made her choice, and I have made my peace with it. I wish you would do the same.”
Mother raised an eyebrow. “Make peace? With a steward’s son stealing your inheritance and place in society?”
Daphne sighed. “It was never mine, Mother. Just as my dowry was never mine.”
Silence ruled in the room, even the bird outside her window bullied into silence by the woman before her. Then Mother turned on her heel and stalked from the room, slamming the door in her wake.
“Mrs. Windham is here?” Cole gaped at Aunt Hartwell across the drawing room, the evening light slinking into the room through the windows. “But why?”
Aunt Hartwell frowned. “I hardly know with that woman. To annoy me, perhaps? To steal Daphne away when she is just beginning to enjoy her visit? Anything is possible.”
Cole should have guessed something was wrong when he did not see Daphne all day. He usually came across her at some point—truth be told, he usually watched out his window to see when she went for walks—but she had never appeared. He’d almost begun to worry that he’d said too much on the beach yesterday. But no, it was worse than that. It was her mother.
“In any case,” Aunt Hartwell said, “she showed up this morning unannounced, as if she’d been invited all along but had simply been running late. The minx,” she muttered.
“What do you intend to do?”
“What can I do?” She shook her head. “She’ll take Daphne away at the slightest provocation. I’ve no choice but to endure her, for Daphne’s sake.”
Just then, footsteps sounded in the hall, and the devil herself stepped into the doorway with a pleased smile. Mrs. Windham had the same hazel eyes and slight figure as Daphne, but that was where the similarities ended. Her dark ringlets were piled atop her head with flawless precision and her sharp eyes flicked about the room, stopping on him. Dare he make a run for it?
“Mr. Everard,” she said smoothly, stepping inside the room. “How good to see you again, and under such different circumstances.”
Different was quite the understatement. If he was not mistaken, the last time he’d seen Mrs. Windham, he’d been covered in dirt and sweat from helping Mr. Barclay repair a fence before his sheep scattered across the countryside. She’d turned up his nose at him then; now she used the not-so-subtle nuances of her voice to convey her disapproval.
Cole stood and bowed. No matter that she was rude and a horrible woman besides, she was Daphne’s mother and he was a gentleman. “Good evening, Mrs. Windham. I trust your journey was pleasant.”
“Hardly,” she sniffed. “Why is it the entirety of Kent must smell like a stable that needs to be mucked?”
Kent would be more than happy to see you on your way, he thought. But then Daphne appeared behind her mother, her face wan and shoulders low. Blast it all. How was it that Mrs. Windham could have broken her daughter again so soon after her arrival? It tore his heart to shreds.
“Good evening, Miss Windham,” he said quietly. Daphne looked at him and offered a small smile, and he blinked. Despite her pale features, her eyes held a spark. She was not so broken as he