The Heiress of Winterwood (14 page)

“Amelia Barrett, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Amelia closed the door without a sound and stood perfectly still, listening to make sure the servants were not about. Once certain that she was alone, she leaned her forehead against the door’s rough wood and squeezed her eyes shut.

Her body shivered from cold, and her wet cape clung uncomfortably to her limbs. Was this really going to happen? Renewed excitement surged through her body, dancing in her stomach. She would marry Captain Sterling and be free from Edward. Most importantly, Lucy would be with her always. She whirled around in the shadowed vestibule and allowed her hood to fall to her shoulders. Not even the dampness of her clothes or the chill in her bones could quench the joy in her heart.

Faint moonlight slid through a tiny window on the staircase. She gathered her skirts and started up the stairs, pausing at the narrow window and peering through the wavy glass. She watched the captain’s black silhouette stride toward Sterling Wood and
disappear into the night’s murky mist. A strange sensation danced in her stomach. Despite her protests, Captain Sterling had insisted on seeing her back to Winterwood. Never before had she walked alone with a man, let alone in the quiet of dark. She knew it was improper. But it didn’t
feel
improper.

As quietly as she could, she continued up the servants’ staircase. Every creak in the ancient wooden stairs made her pause. Amelia considered climbing higher still to Lucy’s chamber. How she wanted to scoop the child in her arms and never let her go. Now she could be certain that Lucy would never be alone and would be loved always. She would not know the pain of a motherless childhood. Amelia just had to wait a little longer, until the captain returned from obtaining the license for them to wed. But she reminded herself to remain cautious. Much could happen in that time.

Deciding against waking the baby, Amelia stopped at the landing next to her bedchamber and peeked down the hall. Quiet. All of Winterwood was asleep. She moved to her door and cracked it open just far enough to slip through. The fire the maid had laid earlier had died down to embers, and she blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the faint glow. Tossing her cape on the chair next to the door, she turned around toward the bed and jumped to see a dark form sitting there.

“Where have you been?” hissed Helena. “I had a devil of a time trying to come up with a believable excuse for you. Are you even aware of the hour?”

Amelia jumped. “Helena, you frightened me. What on earth are you doing in here, sitting in the dark? You should be asleep.”

“As should you, dear Cousin.” Helena’s dry tone hinted at emotion simmering just below the surface. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You failed to answer my question. Where have you been?”

Amelia’s elation faded to discomfort. She reached for a candle on the small table next to her bed. A halfhearted excuse would not satisfy Helena, and the captain had asked her to keep their agreement secret until they could speak to her family together. “I needed some air.”

“Air?” Helena prodded. “It’s raining. It’s cold. You have been out in the weather this entire time? Alone?”

Awkward silence hovered between the women. Amelia leaned down to the fireplace to light the candle from its dying embers. “Damp air is the best.”

A flame flared on the tallow candle’s wick, and Amelia rose. As she turned to place the light on its stand, Helena lifted her hand. A small parchment letter rested between two fingers.

The captain’s note!

Amelia lunged forward and snatched it. “Where did you find this?”

“It appears you weren’t entirely alone.”

Amelia could not mask the defensive tone of her voice. “I don’t know why you act so surprised. I made you fully aware of my intentions, and now you are surprised that I am following through with them.”

“Yes, you told me your intentions, but I never in my wildest dreams expected you to act on them, especially after what happened in the drawing room the first day Captain Sterling arrived. Have you no shame, Amelia? How could you do this to Edward? He loves you, and this is how you acknowledge his regard?”

“Loves me? Quite the contrary, Helena. Edward loves Winterwood, and the fortune that goes with it.” She paused, carefully choosing her words. She’d been mistaken to take Helena into her confidence on this matter. How she missed the old Helena, her beloved companion. “This situation, and whom I choose to marry, is not your concern.”

A pained expression flashed across Helena’s delicate features, but she straightened and lifted her chin. “Is that so? Well then, I fault myself entirely for the misunderstanding. I’ll not deny our relationship has changed over the past several months, but I thought you might care to know my thoughts on something as important as your future husband.”

Helena’s argument fanned Amelia’s frustration. Nobody knew better than Helena how to twist words to their advantage. How could she make Helena see beyond Edward’s façade? “Helena, don’t be absurd. Of course I value your opinion. But you must trust that I know Edward’s character better than you do, and I am acutely aware of the possible repercussions of my actions.”

Helena tossed her russet braid over her shoulder. “Have you really considered what will be said if you cut Edward loose now? Father will be furious. Surely you don’t expect me to lie to him and pretend that—”

“I’m not asking you to lie. Can’t you see what I am trying to do? Can’t you see why this is important? I promised Katherine—”

Helena jumped up from the bed, her fists balled at her sides. “Will you stop falling back on that excuse?” Helena’s sudden passion on the subject caught Amelia off guard, rendering her almost speechless. “Are you prepared to throw away your reputation, your chance at happiness, your very future, for someone else’s child? For a promise made when your sensibilities were weakened with grief?”

Amelia took Helena’s hand in hers, half expecting her to pull it away. She did not. “I know you don’t understand what I am doing, but trust me. And as far as Edward is concerned, believe me when I say that he is not the man he professes to be.”

Now Helena jerked her hand away. “Unbelievable. How quickly you turn on those who care for you.” She pushed past Amelia and headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed.” She stopped at the threshold, placed her hand on the knob, and turned back to Amelia. “But know this, Amelia Barrett. I will no longer be party to this misguided plan of yours. You are on your own.”

Amelia put her hand on the door. “You must tell no one of this, Helena. Not yet. Please.”

Helena hesitated. “I will not, for I hope you will have a change of heart. But do not forget, Amelia, that I, too, hope to marry one day soon. What will happen when news gets out that my own cousin called off her engagement so close to the date? We—I—will be the joke of society. I’ll have little chance of an advantageous match if my family is involved in such scandal.”

Without waiting for a response, Helena left.

Amelia’s ears rang. She didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt. But as Amelia stared at the empty space where Helena had been, she realized the truth to her cousin’s words. The repercussions would certainly extend to those closest to her, and Helena might well suffer most from the consequences of Amelia’s actions. The thought of causing her cousin pain brought a pang of regret, but Amelia was too far down the path for a change of heart now. She had no choice but to marry the captain.

After returning Captain Sterling’s note to her book of Psalms, she peeled the damp dress from her body and pulled her nightdress over her head. She curled up next to her fireplace and, with her poker, prodded the fire back to life. Unease and uncertainty pushed at the joy in her heart. She stared unblinking at the leaping flames.

Dear God, I have done the right thing . . . have I not?

W
ith buoyant steps, Graham strode out of the Doctor’s Commons building in London. His journey had been long and tiring, but well worth the effort.

The
need to minimize scandal and the delicate time frame made it impractical to wait for wedding banns to be read, so a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury was the only viable option for marrying Miss Barrett. Unfortunately, Edward Littleton had announced plans to obtain a special license for himself within the next few weeks, and Littleton was currently in London on business. Concern that the man might already have applied for the license had nagged Graham every mile of the journey from Darbury. But the application process had proceeded without a hitch. He had beaten Littleton to the punch.

With the special license in hand, Graham and Miss Barrett could now be wed at any time, by any member of the clergy. He only hoped he could return to Darbury and marry Miss Barrett before Mr. Littleton paid his own visit to the Archbishop’s offices and learned what had transpired.

Graham waited for a barouche to pass before stepping into the cobbled streets, dodging a heap of straw that had fallen from a passing wagon. London’s labyrinth of avenues stretched out in unfamiliar twists, but he’d memorized the way to his hotel. It was just a short distance away. He’d walk.

Rounding the corner to Bracket Street, he nearly tripped over a small boy. Soot smudged the child’s cheek, and ragged clothes hung limp on his scrawny frame. He stopped Graham with his expressive brown eyes and extended his cap. Graham stared at him for several seconds before realizing he wanted money.

Three weeks before, Graham might have walked past the urchin with little thought. Today thoughts of Lucy made him pause. This boy was someone’s child. He fished in his pocket, pulled out some coins, and dropped them into the hat. The boy peered in, and a smile spread ear to ear. He turned and, like a shot from a cannon, disappeared into the sea of horses, carts, and people.

Graham allowed himself a gratified smile. He had helped a child and found a satisfactory arrangement for his own little one as well. All was going well. In just a short time—a week or two at most—he could return to his ship with a clear mind.

Graham wove through the throng of people who had braved the chill of the day, pausing once to allow a group of ladies to pass. His thoughts transitioned from his daughter to his soon-to-be bride and from there to his late wife.

Eighteen months had passed since he last saw Katherine, and even then, their time together had been brief. He had loved her with unequaled passion, but if he were to add up all the time he spent in her company, it came to less than six months. Indeed, the passing of time had made her seem more like a lovely memory than flesh and blood.

During those many months at sea, he had often imagined the
life they would share—a life free of war and struggle. He had feared that battle might claim his life before then, never dreaming that hers would be cut short. But she was gone, along with all his hopes for their life together. Lately when he envisioned his future, he saw Lucy. And now, Miss Barrett.

As the days crept by, he was growing accustomed to the idea of marrying once again. But he still must guard himself. As Amelia had reminded him many times, this was an arrangement, not a romance. He could not—would not—begin to think of her in such an impractical way.

He straightened his hat and turned down Binkton Street. He needed to rest well tonight. It was a long way back to Darbury. And he had a stop to make along the way.