The Heiress of Winterwood (28 page)

“Whoever has them is demanding money. Stay here. We’ll be back.”

“But what if the boy tries to mislead you?”

“He won’t; you can rest assured of that. I need you to wait here in case there is another attempt at contact. Carrington will stay with you and help keep an eye on things.”

She glanced at the older man before returning her eyes to the captain.

“I need you to stay calm,” he said, “and I ask you to trust me.”

Trust him? Amelia didn’t trust anyone at this point.

But how could she tell him that his request was for more than she could give?

A cheery fire crackled in the drawing room fireplace, the flames hissing and popping.

Amelia tightened the rough wool shawl around her shoulders and lifted the edge to wipe the rain from her face. Even with the fire, damp cold permeated everything, and she indulged in a shiver.

Jane stood next to a small table to Amelia’s left, poured a cup of tea, and handed it over. The steaming liquid heated the delicate china cup and warmed Amelia’s trembling fingers. The curling steam heated her face. Normally a cup of hot tea would soothe her nerves and calm her agitated spirit. But today her stomach turned at the very thought of swallowing anything at all. Amelia placed the teacup back on its saucer.

A frown crossed Jane’s face. “You must eat or drink something, Amelia. You’ll be of no use to anyone if you faint dead away.”

Amelia shook her head and stood. “I’m fine, Jane, really.” She rubbed the ache in her temple and stared toward the window. The rain increased, icy drops hitting the wavy glass like small pebbles. Her chin trembled. What if her baby was out in this weather? What if Lucy was hungry, or scared? Or worse?

Amelia pushed herself up from her chair and began to pace. “They should have allowed me to accompany them. If they do find Lucy, she will need me.”

Jane laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to be traipsing around the countryside. Leave such things to the men. They will find her, I know.”

“But what good am I here? So useless, sitting here, waiting.”

A shout from Mr. Carrington at the far window startled Amelia. “Ho there!” he said. “They’ve returned.”

At the words, Amelia darted from the room. She flung herself through Winterwood’s entrance and out into the cold, damp morning.

A throng of horsemen lined the horizon. The thundering hooves pounded the soggy landscape, flinging up bits of dirt and sod. She lifted her hand to guard her eyes against the elements and strained to make out the figures on horseback.

Mr. Tine. Uncle George. Edward. Mr. Singleton.
One by one she identified the men.
Captain Sterling. Mr. Dunne.
Her heart dropped. No Mrs. Dunne. And if Mrs. Dunne wasn’t with them, neither was Lucy.

The rain ran down her neck and drenched her hair, but she didn’t return to the house. She searched the faces of the returning men, looking for clues, but saw only severe, stony expressions.

“What did you learn? Where is Lucy?”

No one responded. Exasperated, she freed the wet fabric of her skirt from clinging to her legs and hurried toward the approaching horses.

Captain Sterling pulled his horse away from the group and dismounted. He tossed the reins over the animal’s head and gathered them in his gloved hands. “What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your—”

“Please tell me you found something. Anything.” She stepped closer and grabbed at the horse’s bridle. “Please, I must know.”

His response was short. “We found nothing.”

“But where’s the boy?”

“We let him go.”

Blind panic surged in her heart. “You let him go? Why would you do that?”

Captain Sterling fiddled with his saddle, the gathering rain streaming down the folds of his coat. “He knew nothing.”

He wheeled his horse and started toward the house. She wished he would stop walking. She wished he’d look at her. Anything. But his eyes stayed focused straight ahead.

“How can you be certain? Someone paid him to bring a letter here. How could he not know anything?”

Captain Sterling wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, further spreading the dirt that had been flung onto his face during the ride. “He didn’t. He was just a boy trying to earn some money.”

If only they had let her go, she would have gotten the answers out of him. With every step and every word uttered, her irritation increased. “Well, perhaps if Mr. Singleton hadn’t been so cruel to the child, he would have been a little more accommodating.”

He shook his head, still not looking at her. “Mr. Singleton did what he needed to do to get an answer.”

Amelia almost had to jog to keep up with the horse’s gait. She lifted her sodden skirt to keep from tripping. “But to let him go! He knows what the man looked like. He knows where the man was last seen, he knows—”

Finally Captain Sterling stopped the horse and turned the full brunt of his steely gaze onto her. “Listen to me. Pursuing that boy further would have gotten us nowhere. So what would you have proposed? That we continue to question him until he was beside himself and confessed to a crime he did not commit? Gave us false information that would take us down a wrong path and cost us hours of valuable time? I daresay I have dealt with a few more questionable characters in my day than you, so I suggest you leave this to me.”

She stood dumbstruck as he gave the animal’s reins a yank and continued to walk. She didn’t know whether to be offended at his curt reply or ashamed for questioning him. Finally she tugged her soggy, cold shawl about her shoulders and trotted to catch up with him. “So what do we do now?”

He tossed the reins to a stable boy and let her enter Winterwood before following her in. “First, you need to change clothes. The last thing we need is for you to fall ill. Then come back down, and I will share my plan.”

G
raham downed a dram of brandy, hoping the amber liquid would warm his insides. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so cold. He recalled one black night in the dead of last winter when he’d sat out with his watchman, looking for enemy ships in the opaque fog. He had been so alert, so certain that the enemy would try to use the fog to conceal their location. But he’d been wrong. That night had been a waste, just as this morning had been.

The boy knew nothing. He was just a frightened child trying to earn a shilling. Nearly two hours later they were no closer to finding Lucy than when they had left.

Graham carried a chair over to the fireplace and sat down. He knew what he needed to do. He’d informed Singleton of the plan to go to Liverpool and managed to keep Littleton and George Barrett as far at bay as possible. But now he needed to tell Amelia.

The fire was welcome, but no amount of heat could ease the iciness gathering around his heart. His soul. His body ached from
the ride, and his eyes protested the lack of sleep. No matter. Sleep was not an option.

Where was Lucy? Who had her?

He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out the ransom letter. He’d already read it a dozen times, though each reading sent blind rage through every fiber of his being. He unfolded the letter. It was addressed to him. Strange that the boy had delivered it to Winterwood’s kitchen entrance, though Graham was staying at Eastmore Hall. What did that mean?

Graham scratched his head and slicked back his damp hair, contemplating the unfamiliar script.

Sterling,

Your daughter and her nurse are safe and well, for now, but that will not be the case for long. Deliver two thousand pounds to George’s Dock at dawn on Sunday. I’ve no doubt you know the location. Be warned I’ve no patience for heroics. Upon my honor, I will not hesitate to make good on my threat should anything go wrong.

He flipped the note over, looking for more clues, but that was it. No signature. No other information. Nothing more than messy marks on a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed the note out on his knee, then folded it as neatly as his still-numb fingers could manage.

George’s Dock. Liverpool. Yes, he knew the place well, and the very thought of his daughter in such a place made his blood run cold.

He eyed each man in the room with suspicion. Someone was after a fortune—either his prize money or Amelia’s inheritance—and would clearly stop at nothing to obtain it. His instinct was to discover the man’s identity, hunt him down, and bring him to justice. The thought of giving in to the demands of a lunatic and
simply handing over money went against the grain. But in this case, his daughter’s safety trumped his need for justice. He would gladly surrender his last farthing if it meant holding his daughter in his arms once more.

Across the room, Singleton signaled his departure and called to Graham. “You know where to find me, should you need me.”

Graham nodded and stood. “Thank you for your help, Singleton. It was much appreciated.”

The man shoved his hat on his wet head and stepped toward Graham. “Wish I could have done more. Best of luck.” He turned to leave, then hesitated. “You’re sure you’re not in need of further assistance?”

Graham shook his head. The last thing he needed was someone else slowing him down. “I have a connection in Liverpool. He’ll give me all the help I need. I’m sure of it.”

The heavyset constable shifted his weight and glanced around the room. “Surely your brother will accompany you.”

“No, I’ll go alone.” Graham didn’t miss the older man’s surprised expression.

Singleton took his leave and Graham returned to his chair, content to be alone with his thoughts. To his left, Carrington and Mr. Hammond recounted the events of the day. Near the door, Miss Helena Barrett sat conversing with Edward Littleton. Graham scowled at the sight of Littleton. Despite the man’s help this morning, Graham’s instinct to avoid him was as strong as it had been the day he met him. Perhaps Littleton’s efforts to help find the child were sincere. Perhaps not. But something seemed amiss.

He tore his gaze away just in time to see Amelia enter the room with swift and determined steps. He stood when she entered, and from the corner of his eye he saw Littleton do the same. But he was the one Amelia’s eyes sought out, and she was by his side in seconds.

The expression flushing Amelia’s face was anything but congenial. “Tell me. What is going on?”

He’d hoped to come up with a softer way to deliver the news. The room fell silent, as if all anticipated his response. She had not yet read the letter, so he extended it to her, watching as she devoured the contents. Her face paled, and her free hand flew to her mouth.

“George’s Dock. Where is that?”

“Liverpool.”

After a moment of agonizing silence, she spoke. “We must do as they say. We must go to Liverpool.”

“
I
must go to Liverpool,” he corrected. “You must stay here in case they return.”

“I think not! I have every intention of accompanying you. Lucy will need me once you find her.” She turned to Carrington. “How soon can you retrieve the money?”

Graham shifted his weight. “Listen to me. The letter instructs me to come alone, and come alone I shall.”

“But I know I can be of assistance. And if I remain here, I shall go mad.”

Though her voice was firm, he saw tears in her eyes, and he felt himself weakening. But he wouldn’t risk disregarding the kidnapper’s instructions. “It’s a long journey to Liverpool, and I can travel faster alone.” He turned to Carrington. “You say you have access to the amount requested?”

Carrington nodded. “I do.”

“Good.” Graham fidgeted with his glove. “I do not think I could gather so large a sum in such a short period of time, at least without a visit to London first.”

Amelia’s face flushed. “If you think for a single moment that I am going to stay here and do nothing while some barbarian holds my child and my friend captive, then—”

“Liverpool is no place for you. Trust me.”

“But I—”

“No.”

She opened her mouth with an obvious intent to protest further. Graham silenced her by holding up his index finger. “One mistake. That is all it takes for us to never see Lucy or Mrs. Dunne again. I do not like those odds, so I plan to comply with this lunatic’s request. Am I clear?”