earlier—I hadn’t thought you would arrive so soon, though I am delighted you did.”
Aunt Hartwell pulled her close and kissed her cheek and Daphne could not help but smile. How the woman had such energy at her age, she would never know. When Aunt Hartwell pulled back, she held Daphne at arm’s length and examined her.
“Far too pale,” she declared. “But I daresay a few weeks at Cheriton will fix that.”
It was the same every summer—Aunt Hartwell insisted Daphne was too pale, or too thin, or too quiet, and set about as if it was her mission in life to remedy the invented flaw.
“Mother will be thrilled,” Daphne said dryly. “You know how she likes me to spend more time in the sun.”
Aunt Hartwell laughed, a carefree, joyful sound that Daphne remembered just as well as her broad smile. For a moment it felt as if nothing had changed. Aunt Hartwell looked the same—dark, graying hair, rounded features, and a soft figure that gave quite the best hugs. But then her bright smile slipped and her blue eyes dimmed, and she turned away with a slight cough.
Daphne bit her lip, her throat painfully tight. No, everything was not the same.
“Come, sit,” Aunt Hartwell said, almost briskly. “Dinner is nearly ready, so we are just waiting on Mr. Everard.”
Cole? Daphne sat abruptly on the settee beside her aunt. “Mr. Everard will be joining us?”
“Yes, of course. He joins me most nights since I cannot stand to dine alone, and I thought you might like to see more of him. I know you are good friends.”
“I cannot say how good of friends we are.” Daphne sat with her hands clasped rigidly in her lap. “It has been a year since my last visit.” And in that time, he managed to supplant me and steal my inheritance.
Aunt Hartwell watched her with guarded eyes. She had to guess Daphne’s thoughts—she’d always been entirely too perceptive.
“Friendship does not fade so quickly, does it?” she said. “Even when circumstances change?”
Daphne pressed her lips together. She could not say what she was truly feeling, not when she still hoped to convince her aunt to change her mind about the inheritance. “No, I suppose not,” she managed. Besides, her anger should not be directed at Aunt Hartwell—it wasn’t her fault Cole had duped her into naming him heir. No, that anger was better funneled straight to the source.
“Good.” Aunt Hartwell nodded. “I would hate to think—”
“Mr. Everard,” the butler announced from the doorway just as Cole stepped into the room, rather better dressed than she’d ever recalled him being before. His dark jacket was finely tailored to suit his slim frame, with a green embroidered waistcoat and black cravat to match. But of course he had to dress better. He was the heir of Cheriton now. He could hardly go about society in the plain and practical clothing he’d favored during her previous visits.
But that did not mean she had to like it.
“Mr. Everard,” Aunt Hartwell said with a smile. “So good of you to join us tonight. Daphne and I were just speaking of you.”
“Heavens,” he said in a mild tone. “That is never something a man wishes to hear.”
Aunt Hartwell laughed—she always laughed a great deal—but Daphne could not manage more than a tight smile.
“Come, let us go in.” Aunt Hartwell stood and Daphne followed suit. Cole offered his arm to the older woman, which she took comfortably. But when he extended his other arm to Daphne as well, she shot him a look of such coldness that he quickly retracted the offending limb. Aunt Hartwell did not seem to notice, or if she did, she did not say anything.
Dinner was just as awful as Daphne could have imagined, if she’d thought to imagine that Cole would be joining them. And from the way Aunt Hartwell talked, it appeared he would be joining them rather often. Was that how he’d managed to do it, then? Had he charmed his way into her dining room and into her will simultaneously?
He and her aunt chattered together most of the meal, about farms and tenants and necessary repairs and improvements to the estate. Daphne sat quietly, chewing her roast beef with a bit too much dedication.
“Are your parents well, Daphne?” Aunt Hartwell asked her when their conversation finally lulled.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course.”
“And you enjoyed the Season?”
Daphne forced a smile. “As much as one can.” Mother had spent their months in London flitting them from party to