Romancing Her Rival - Joanna Barker Page 0,48

to check her drawer, though she already knew from the pit in her stomach what she would find.

She ran nearly all the way back to Cheriton, earning herself an odd glance from a groom exercising a horse in the pasture, but she was beyond caring. When she reached the house, she darted up the staircase, her breaths coming too fast, and strode down the long hallway to her room. She went immediately to the writing desk and yanked open the drawer. Empty.

Someone—and she knew precisely who—had crept into her room while she slept and taken the note. Then that someone had slipped it beneath Aunt Hartwell’s door, knowing full well what chaos would ensue.

“I did it for you, Daphne. You must see that.”

Daphne turned slowly, facing her mother who stood in the open doorway. Her eyes were ardent and sincere, and she clutched a hand to her heart as if she were in pain. But just like her words, her actions were a lie.

“You deserve Cheriton.” Mother stepped into the room and waved an arm around. “How many summers have we spent here courting that woman’s favor? It was yours, and she took it from you without thought.”

“That is not true,” Daphne whispered. “None of it. I came to Cheriton because I loved it here, not because I was trying to impress Aunt Hartwell. And I do not deserve it. The person who deserves it is the one who you ruined with your actions last night.”

“He was deceiving her.” Mother raised her chin. “It was my duty to—”

“You know nothing,” Daphne said fiercely, stepping forward. “You haven’t any idea what you’ve done, and you do not care. You only care that I receive the inheritance so that you can take it from me. Well, Mother, I will not let you. I would rather not have Cheriton at all than see it waste away in your hands.”

Mother stared at her, face red as if she’d swallowed a grape whole, but Daphne only brushed past her and ran back down the stairs. She hurried to the parlor and threw open the door without knocking. Aunt Hartwell stood across the room beside the tall bank of windows, and she spun at Daphne’s sudden entrance.

“Daphne? What is—?”

“You mustn’t take it from him,” Daphne blurted out. “You mustn’t take Cheriton from Cole.”

Aunt Hartwell blinked, her hands dropping from where they held back the curtain. “What on earth are you on about?”

Daphne crossed the room in five steps, stopping before her aunt with her chest heaving. “Mother slipped that note beneath your door last night. She knew I had it and she took it without my knowledge. Her only purpose was to ruin everything you and Cole have worked for in the hopes that you might reject him and finally name me as your heir. Well, if you do, I will refuse. I swear it, I will refuse, because I would not be half the owner that Cole would be.”

Her mouth was running away from her, but she could not bring herself to care. She would finally speak her mind, for good or ill.

“He made a mistake, yes, but don’t we all?” Daphne went on. “Especially me. If I’d realized sooner how awful my mother is, I might have escaped her influence years ago. But Cole’s mistake is much more easily fixed, and I am certain he would be willing to make the effort if you’ll allow him.”

“Daphne—”

“He is smart and capable and true, and you could not find a better master for Cheriton if you spent all your days looking.” Daphne forced a staggering breath. “That is what I came here to say.”

Aunt Hartwell stood quiet a long moment, looking at her as if she were a strange creature brought from a faraway land. Then her eyes flicked away, to the corner of the room behind Daphne.

“Do you agree with her, Mr. Everard?”

Daphne froze, her ears filled with a rushing sound, as if she were surrounded by a swarm of bees. Then she turned. Cole stood across the room, hat in his hands, his gaze fixed on her. His mouth was parted, his eyes wide.

“Oh.” Daphne stared back. “I—I did not know…”

“I am not going to disinherit Cole.” Aunt Hartwell swept to her side. “Though the thought did cross my mind,” she said a little louder for Cole to hear. He gave a crooked grin, though his eyes had yet to leave Daphne. “But,” she went on, “I am glad to know he has such