Romancing Her Rival - Joanna Barker Page 0,46

he knew what was best for the estate. But Aunt Hartwell’s words slammed into him again and again, breaking every one of his reasonings into unrecognizable pieces.

He was in the wrong. He had made a choice that he knew she opposed, and he had no defense. She was right. He had been trying to take a shortcut, wanting the money now instead of waiting for better times.

But how on earth had she gotten that letter?

He came to a staggering halt in the middle of the corridor, staring at the library. The doors were open, just as he’d left them last night. He winced, remembering how he’d stuffed away the letter so quickly at the sound of Daphne and her mother’s voices. He must have dropped it then, and it would have been in plain sight to anyone who passed.

Daphne had been the first to leave the drawing room.

He swallowed, then shook his head. No, it could not possibly be her. Not his Daphne, who was warm and genuine and sweet. Except… she had not been so warm and genuine and sweet when she’d first arrived all those weeks ago. She’d been cold and angry, until—

Cole ran his hand through his hair, nearly yanking it out in his frustration. Until she’d suddenly changed, he realized. That day at the goat pen. She’d abruptly told him she wanted to be friends, and he had been so glad he hadn’t given it a second thought. But now he did, and added a third and a fourth thought for good measure. Could she have had other motivations besides friendship? She’d accused him of stealing her inheritance—was this her way of reclaiming it? Giving that letter to Aunt Hartwell so she would remove him as heir?

No, his heart protested weakly. Not her. Not Daphne.

But with another jolt, he realized why the writing on that mysterious note had looked so familiar. It was Daphne’s. He’d seen that elegant hand often since he was a boy, when she’d leave notes at the cottage door to tell him where they should meet to play.

Daphne.

He strode back the way he had come, heading toward the front door instead of to his cottage. There was only one person who could tell him the truth, and she would soon be making her way to a certain gate.

Daphne nearly skipped as she walked along the path, which made her laugh. Her, skipping! But love did strange things to a person.

Love. She was in love with Cole Everard. When she’d promised her friends all those years ago that she would settle for nothing less than true love, she would never have guessed that he would be the one to claim her heart. Back then, he was simply her scrawny and teasing friend Cole. But now he was so much more.

She rounded a grouping of spruce trees and there he was up ahead, pacing beside the kissing gate. Kissing. That word made her pulse speed and jump. What would it be like to be kissed by Cole? She’d practically swooned when he’d stood so close to her at the beach and toyed with her hair. A kiss would likely be beyond her ability to stay upright.

Daphne inspected him as she drew nearer, the corner of her mouth drawn upwards. His light hair was downright chaotic, his cravat sloppily tied. He must have gotten as little sleep as she had.

Her boots cracked a twig and he looked up suddenly. She smiled. “Good morning.”

He stared, his gray eyes unfocused. “Daphne.”

“Yes, that is my name,” she teased, coming to stand before him. “I am glad you remember it after nearly twenty years of knowing each other.”

She expected him to grin sheepishly, perhaps a little embarrassed at his appearance. But instead his jaw tightened and his hands clenched around the brim of his hat. Her own smile faded. “Cole? What is wrong?”

His eyes captured hers and refused to release her. “I am going to ask you a question, Daphne,” he said simply. “You must promise to answer honestly.”

Daphne gulped a deep breath. A question. She had thought she was prepared, but his gruff manner set her on edge. “I promise.”

He stepped forward. “Did you find my letter from Mr. Steele in the library last night?”

What?

She gaped at him, her stomach tossing like a boat amidst a sudden storm. “Pardon?”

“I do not think I need to repeat myself.”

She shook her head. “Cole, what—”

“Answer the question, Daphne. I know you passed by the library on your way to bed. Did