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paternal grandfather, she’d wished, just for a moment, for April’s pretty pink and gold coloring. But then some family crisis would distract her, and she’d put aside her foolish longings.

    All of her dreams and energies these days were focused on establishing her brother and sister. Adrian’s windfall had opened all sorts of new doors, and Daphne was dazzled at the future that awaited them.

    Daydreaming of April, a vision in muslin and lace, making her debut at Almack’s, Daphne was startled when Adrian asked, “How soon are we to see Vinton? Didn’t you say that he would come call?”

    “Oh, I completely forgot,” Daphne said, pouring herself a second cup of coffee. “Goodson handed me a note as I came down the stairs—if it is convenient, Mr. Vinton will drive out from Penzance and meet with us this afternoon.”

    After Daphne had sent a servant off with an affirmative answer to Mr. Vinton’s note, the three siblings spent the morning following Goodson about as he gave them a tour of the house. It seemed to Daphne that they marched up and down stairs and through endless corridors admiring countless elegant rooms. She agreed with April. It was going to take a while to become familiar with the house. Besides Cook, Goodson, and Mrs. Hutton, there seemed to be a bewildering number of staff—scullery maids, footmen, upstairs maids, gardeners, and stablemen.

    By the time of the meeting with Mr. Vinton, Daphne’s head was whirling. Excited and nervous, she and Adrian were waiting in the library when Goodson ushered in the solicitor that afternoon at one o’clock.

    Mr. Vinton was a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and intelligent brown eyes and Daphne liked him on sight. Once the social amenities were complete, seated by the fire, a cup of coffee at his elbow, he set about explaining the full extent of Sir Adrian’s inheritance.

    The house and servants had given them a clue that Adrian’s inheritance was far larger than either had expected, and when Mr. Vinton was done explaining the extent of his wealth, Adrian and Daphne looked at each other stunned. Adrian’s fortune was quite, quite handsome rather than just merely comfortable, even minus the respectable amount Adrian had decided would be set aside for April and Daphne.

    Business taken care of, the conversation became more general, Daphne and Adrian both very curious about their benefactor, Sir Huxley.

    “We had never heard of him until my brother received your letter—in fact, we believed we were the last of our family. The relationship must be quite distant,” Daphne said as she poured Mr. Vinton another cup of coffee from an elegant silver coffeepot.

    Mr. Vinton nodded. “I believe that you shared a great-great-great grandfather with Sir Huxley.” He hesitated, then added, “Sir Huxley died over two years ago, and I should tell you that the estate was in the process of being awarded to someone else, another distant relative of yours, a neighbor, in fact. If I hadn’t happened to come across a reference to your branch of the family in Sir Huxley’s papers….” He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “Viscount Trevillyan, after years of believing that he was the heir, was not best pleased, I can tell you, and when he learned that he was not the heir…. Most unpleasant.”

    Adrian frowned. “A viscount? Why would he care about a mere baronetcy?”

    “It’s true the baronetcy meant nothing to him—his branch of the family was awarded the viscountcy and took the name Trevillyan decades ago for exemplary service to the king,” admitted Mr. Vinton, “but the loss of the lands, farms, and income…well, that was another story.”

    “Lord Trevillyan is our neighbor?” Daphne asked.

    “Yes—in fact, your land splits his estate into two pieces.” Mr. Vinton tugged on his ear. “The majority of the Trevillyan lands lie to the east, but there are several hundred acres that his grandfather acquired