The Heiress of Winterwood (19 page)

William whirled to face his brother. Gone was his customary lighthearted nature. His response was one of a cornered animal, ready for battle. “You think you could have done better? I did the best I could with what I had, and I’ll not apologize for it. When someone wanted to buy some of my land—
my
land—especially the man I thought was to be my neighbor, I was well within my rights to do so. How was I to know you were going to sweep his betrothed out from underneath him?”

Graham shifted his weight as he contemplated his response. A million retorts fired in his head about responsibility and discipline. But now wasn’t the time. “Eastmore, and what you do with it, is your business. I have no say in it. What matters to me now is keeping Littleton away from Winterwood.”

William leaned against his desk. The hunting dog rose and trotted to her master, and William scratched her ear. “You know, there is a very simple solution.”

Graham snatched up his boot. “And what is that?”

William shrugged. “You will soon be marrying the answer to both our problems.”

Graham glared at his brother. “What are you suggesting?”

“Oh, come on.” William rolled his eyes. “Toss a little money at Littleton and buy the land for yourself. Make Littleton an offer he cannot turn down, and he’ll sell you the land.” A twinkle shimmered in his pale eyes. “And as for Eastmore, when you marry, we can use Winterwood’s money to set Eastmore’s finances right. All of our problems will be solved.”

Graham didn’t need time to consider his response. “No.”

William’s eyes widened in shock. “No? Why?”

“It’s not my money to give. I promised Amelia I’d not touch Winterwood’s money.”

A short laugh burst from William. “What are you, a fool? Well then, buy the land yourself. Your prize money is no secret. Surely you have such funds. And while you’re at it, perhaps you can help me a little.”

Graham snatched up his other boot and tailcoat. The dark blue wool wrinkled under his grip. “How significant is your debt?”

“Significant enough that I had to sell the west fields. That I am selling my best horse. Who knows what’s next?”

Graham paused and looked out the window. “If you want me to help, then I need to know a number, William. How much do you owe?”

William’s face blanched, but he set his jaw. “Seventeen thousand pounds.”

“Egad, William, how did you get yourself into such incredible debt?”

William’s eyebrows twitched. “You don’t know how it’s been. I—”

Graham shot his hand into the air to silence William, but he lowered it immediately. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know, and quite honestly, I don’t care.”

An awkward silence hovered between the men. Graham tucked his coat under his arm. “I’m going to Winterwood to talk to George Barrett. We’ll discuss this later.”

William stepped forward, blocking the threshold. “Like it or not, this is your family home too.”

Brother stared at brother. Unspoken words balanced in the empty space between them.

“I’ll help you if I can,” Graham finally said. “But Winterwood’s funds are off the table.”

T
he fresh scent of toasted bread, plum cake, and coffee met Amelia as she descended the stairs to the main hall. Whispers and clinking silver swirled in the morning air. The normally inviting smells of breakfast turned her stomach, and the tone of the voices tempted her to run back to her bedchamber.

When had her beloved Winterwood grown so cold?

Resolved to at least attempt to mend the rift between her and her family, Amelia forced one foot in front of the other. Her kid slippers made little sound as she stepped toward the breakfast room’s threshold. Her deliberately slow steps afforded her precious moments to attempt to hear the conversation. Uncle George’s strained voice reverberated from the room, but his words were undecipherable. She smoothed the pale pink sarsnet gown and adjusted the ivory fichu around her neck before stepping over the threshold. The sun’s bright light flooded through the window and bounced around the breakfast room, reflecting from the gilded mirror to the silver service to the sparkling ruby at her aunt’s neck.

Amelia squeezed a greeting through her constricted throat. “Good morning.”

Her uncle didn’t acknowledge her. Her aunt glared at her. Sympathy balanced in Helena’s red-rimmed eyes, but she said nothing. Amelia sat down in her chair, and immediately Sally was at her elbow with tea. She sipped the steaming liquid, hoping its warmth would soothe her mounting anxiety.

Tension hovered in the air, daring someone to be the first to speak. Finally, her aunt’s biting voice stopped Amelia midsip. “Since no one will address what has transpired, I shall.” She turned and thrust the full brunt of her glare onto Amelia. “I hope you are satisfied. In one night you have destroyed everything your uncle and I have worked so hard to create for this family. Everything!”

Uncle George snapped his paper closed and let it fall to his lap. “Don’t bother, Augusta. She has made her decision.”

Amelia snuck a glance at Helena, hoping to garner support, but Helena stared at her lap.

Aunt Augusta’s face reddened and trembled as she spoke. “Indeed she has, with little concern for the welfare of those who have sacrificed for her.”

Amelia’s Wedgwood teacup clattered against the saucer when she set it back down. Her shoulders slumped. How many times must she defend her cause? Would anything she said make a difference? She forced strength to her voice. “I hope that one day, Aunt, you will be able to understand why I have made this decision.”

“Oh, I know full well why—because you are a selfish, ungrateful girl!” Aunt Augusta swatted her napkin against the table. “You think you know better than anyone else how the world should be organized, and you consider nobody else’s concerns but your own. Think of poor Mr. Littleton! The man is heartbroken. How can he ever hold his head up in society after such a public disgrace?”

In a fluster, the plump woman pushed herself away from the
table and paced behind Helena. “I would wish nothing like it on my worst enemy. And have you given any thought to how this scandal will affect your uncle’s business? The livelihood we all depend upon? I daresay you have not.” She pressed a handkerchief to her nose, and a sob broke her voice. “And I shudder to think of what this scandal will do to your cousin’s chances of making a suitable match when word is out.
Selfish.
”

Amelia stiffened at her aunt’s biting words and finally found her voice. “Edward will recover—of this I am certain. There is no reason why my decision should affect any business dealings.”

Her uncle huffed, and she turned to find his small eyes fixed on her. “Edward is about to be, or at least is supposed to be, a partner of mine—that is how my business will be affected. Once trust is broken, Amelia, it is not easily repaired. I gave Edward my permission to court you. I gave him my blessing to marry you. Now he has been betrayed in the vilest of manners. I shouldn’t blame the man if he never spoke to any of us again.”

Amelia’s ears flamed, and she tried to swallow. She wanted to tell them that though Edward appeared amiable, he was actually a treacherous man. Couldn’t her uncle see he was only interested in a partnership because of Winterwood’s fortune and would turn on his partner as quickly as he would on his intended? But such arguments would all be for naught. They were determined not to listen.

Uncle George continued, jowls trembling. “Edward is staying at the village inn. I plan to go to him later today to sort out this fine mess and try to salvage what is left of the family name. You may care little for your reputation or that of Edward’s, but this scandal will shed negative light on all of us.”

Amelia’s pulse quickened. “Edward is still in Darbury?”

“He departed from Winterwood in the black of night, Amelia.” Aunt Augusta stared down her nose. “Where did you expect him to go?”

Amelia felt as if the air had been stolen from her lungs. How could Edward remain in Darbury after being refused? What if he planned to stay?

Augusta stepped behind Helena and rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder as she stared at Amelia. “If you are fortunate, by some miracle Mr. Littleton will be willing to look past your lapse of judgment and reconsider a future with you.”

“No.” Amelia jumped up from her chair. Her skirt caught on the table, and she stopped to free the flowing fabric. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She refused to give them the satisfaction of making her cry. “I am determined to marry Captain Sterling and to raise Lucy. No amount of—”

Her words broke off as horse hooves pounded outside the window. She skirted the table and rushed to the window. A thought clenched her mind, and like a wild dog violently shaking its prey, it refused to loosen its hold.

What if Edward returned to Winterwood? What would he do?

Helena jumped up from the table and joined Amelia at the window. “Who has arrived?”

Amelia’s tense shoulders relaxed as Graham’s strong profile became clear. Her confidence surged at the very sight of him. Her knees nearly buckled with relief.

Helena said the words that Amelia’s mouth could not yet form. “It’s Captain Sterling.”

“Despicable man,” huffed Aunt Augusta. In a swirl of pale blue muslin, she returned to her seat at the table. “And arriving at this early hour? Ridiculous.”

The wind billowed the captain’s black greatcoat as he pulled his horse to a stop. Amelia watched as the groom came round to take his horse. She was happy to see him, and was even more grateful to see that he had come alone. The fact that his brother accompanied
him the previous night had surprised her, but William Sterling’s repeated visits to Winterwood confirmed her suspicions that he’d been too intoxicated on the occasion of his impropriety to recall it later. If he did remember it, he did not seem ready to acknowledge it, and she would not remind him. She only hoped that the captain would never find out. It was a secret she did not relish keeping. But for the sake of those involved, she must.

Unwilling to wait for Captain Sterling to be properly announced, she hurried from the breakfast room to meet him in the hall. She arrived, breathless, just as he was stepping through the threshold. He swept his beaver hat from his head and handed it to James in one fluid movement. His stormy gray eyes met hers. Her breathing slowed, and something fluttered in her heart—an emotion she did not understand.

He forewent a formal welcome. “Are you all right, Amelia?”

She flushed at the informality with which he addressed her. The only men to call her by her Christian name were her uncle and Edward. But why should he not? “Yes, I am well, thank you.”

“And Lucy?”

“She is well. I spent some time with her in the nursery earlier this morning.”

“Good. Any sign of Littleton?”

“He has not returned to Winterwood, although I have just learned from my uncle that he is still in Darbury.”

“I cannot say I am surprised.” The captain’s every word conveyed purpose. His eyes darted about, as if searching for something. “Is your uncle at home?”

She nodded, purposely diverting her gaze from his split lip. “He is in the breakfast room, with the family.”

“I will speak to him, and then I believe we should call on the vicar and explain the situation. In light of what has happened, the sooner all is finalized, the better.”

He spoke as if checking items off a list, but with every word Amelia relaxed. He was as committed to this plan as she was. His determination boosted her confidence.

“Will you take me to your uncle?”

She nodded. “If you’ll just follow me.”

Amelia would not have thought it possible, but upon her reentering the breakfast room, accompanied by the captain, the room’s oppressive atmosphere grew even colder. Helena stared at something in the middle of the table. Aunt Augusta glared at the captain, and Uncle George continued eating, ignoring them completely.

Amelia’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Uncle, Captain Sterling is here to speak with you.”

Captain Sterling bowed toward Aunt Augusta before turning to her uncle. “Mr. Barrett, I was hoping to have a moment of your time.”

Her uncle’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “You said quite enough last night. I think you should be on your way, sir.”

“That is not an option, I’m afraid. We need to speak. In private.”

“You’ll find my opinions have not changed.”

“I supposed as much. Still, there are matters to discuss.”

As if suffering from a great inconvenience, Uncle George pushed back his chair and stood. He said nothing, but pursed his lips and tucked his paper under his arm, then pointed to the threshold and walked through it. Graham followed.

Amelia rubbed her neck and rested her hand on her shoulder as she watched the men disappear. Unable to endure the breakfast table any longer, she withdrew to the drawing room to wait.

Outside the window, the sun’s white light caught on the edge of the silver clouds and reflected to the ground below. The frost shone like diamonds on the expansive lawn. Everything looked so calm. So peaceful. Why couldn’t it storm to match the restless turmoil churning within her?