Edward saw her as an asset.
The realization was clarifying, even as it was painful. She could not marry Edward Potter. Whatever security he offered, whatever comfort his fortune might provide, she could not spend her life beingassistedrather than heard.
But that left her with nothing. No prospects, no suitor, no path forward except a return to Hartfield and the quiet life of a spinster daughter caring for aging parents.
Unless...
She cut the thought off before it could fully form. Daniel had made his choice. He had chosen his fear over his love, and she could not force him to change.
But still, in the darkness, she could not quite extinguish the ember of hope that refused to die.
***
Morning brought unexpected news.
Rosanne was still abed when Lillian rose, but there was a letter on the writing desk—sealed with the Wyntham crest, addressed in Rosanne's hand. Lillian recognized it as the letter Rosanne had been composing that morning, filled with details of the house gathering that she was sending to her brother. She had seen her writing again the day before and she had assumed that she had sent more than one letters to him.
But beside it was another letter; one that must have arrived during the night, delivered by express messenger. This one was addressed to Rosanne, and it bore the same Wyntham seal.
Rosanne stirred as Lillian examined the envelope.
"What is it?" Her voice was thick with sleep.
"A letter for you. From Wyntham, by the look of it."
Rosanne sat up abruptly, fully awake now. "From Wyntham? Give it here."
She broke the seal and scanned the contents, her face going through a rapid series of expressions; confusion, alarm, and something that looked almost like hope.
"What does it say?" Lillian asked, her heart suddenly pounding.
"It is from Mrs. Gerald, the housekeeper." Rosanne looked up, her eyes wide. "Daniel left Wynthorpe yesterday evening. Rode out without warning, gave no indication of where he was going. She thought I should know, in case..." She stopped, her gaze sharpening on Lillian's face. "In case he was coming here."
Lillian felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "Here? Why would he..."
"Because I wrote to him." Rosanne's voice was small, guilty. "Three days ago. I told him about Edward, about his attentions to you. I told him that if he did not act, he would lose you forever."
"Rosanne." Lillian's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper. "What have you done?"
"What someone needed to do." Rosanne lifted her chin, a gesture of defiance that did not quite mask her uncertainty. "He loves you, Lillian. Whatever walls he has built, whatever fears he harbours, he loves you. And you love him. I could not simply stand by and watch you both make a terrible mistake."
"You had no right..."
"I had every right. He is my brother, and you are my dearest friend, and I cannot bear to see either of you suffer when the solution is so obvious." Rosanne's voice cracked. "If I was wrong, if he does not come, then I will accept the consequences of my interference. But I could not sit and do nothing. I could not watch you accept Edward's proposal and spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been."
Lillian wanted to be angry. She wanted to rage at Rosanne for her presumption, for inserting herself into a situation that was none of her concern.
But beneath the anger was something else, something that felt terrifyingly like hope.
Daniel was coming. Or he might be coming. He had left the house without explanation, riding out into the evening like a man possessed.
He might be coming for her.
"When did Mrs. Gerald say he left?" she asked, her voice steadier now.
"Yesterday evening, around seven o'clock. If he rode through the night..."
"He could arrive today."
