The Heiress of Winterwood (5 page)

The sun had set, and night had descended upon Winterwood Manor. Flickering candles and a freshly stoked fire provided ample illumination for the expansive dining room, the yellow glow glittering off the silver service and gilded frames adorning the olive-green walls. Aunt Augusta and Helena sat near Amelia at the mahogany table, their upcoming move to London the topic of discussion for most of the dinner. But their cheery excitement just aggravated the heaviness of Amelia’s heart.

The captain’s refusal burned fresh in her memory, and every second that slipped past reaffirmed the consequence. Still, she harbored no regret for her actions. In fact, if she thought asking again could in some way sway the captain’s decision, she would ask him one thousand times. But with pointed melancholy she recalled the firm set of his square jaw and the determination in his gray eyes. He did not wish to marry, not even to secure a new mother for Lucy or the fortune that would come from being the master of Winterwood Manor.

She studied the lamb fricassee and sweetbreads on her plate and pushed at the food with her fork. Her aunt and cousin’s chatter continued. The sounds of their voices were so familiar, so much a part of her home. Ever since her father died twelve years past and named her Uncle George guardian over both her and the estate, Amelia had lived here at Winterwood with her aunt, uncle, and cousin. But in little more than a month, all that would change. Once she and Edward wed, her uncle’s family would move to their new residence in London, and she would continue her life here at Winterwood—only as Mrs. Edward Littleton.

Aunt Augusta’s head of fading hair bobbed with each word. The woman’s words always spilled forth in a rush, like a waterfall of
unchecked thoughts. “Five weeks, dearest! Can you fathom it? I am counting down the days. Perhaps we should consider having new gowns made before departing—although of course the London seamstresses are far superior. By my word, Helena, this will be the season. Amelia has her match, and now you shall have your pick of suitors.”

Helena’s golden eyes flicked toward Amelia
.

Now that Amelia has made her match.
Amelia knew the words must have stung, and her heart went out to her cousin. When Uncle George first invited his colleague Edward to visit Winterwood Manor, he’d no doubt regarded him as a suitable match for either his daughter or his niece, and Helena’s interest in him had been evident. But Helena, for all of her charm and beauty, lacked the single asset Amelia possessed and the one quality that would catch Edward Littleton’s eye—a substantial inheritance.

Helena quickly turned her attention back to her mother. “I am eager for Father and Mr. Littleton to return.”

“I, too, look forward to Mr. Barrett’s return tomorrow, but I daresay our feelings are nothing to Amelia’s anticipation for the return of her Mr. Littleton.”

The weight of her aunt’s attention shifted to her, and Amelia turned to see her aunt smiling at her as proudly as any guardian could. “Dear Mr. Littleton. You must be eager to see him.”

Amelia’s spine stiffened at the sound of her future husband’s name. She pressed her napkin to her lips before returning it to her lap, refusing to look at Helena. “Indeed.”

Her aunt continued. “I have instructed Cook to make pigeons
en compôte
for dinner. I have it on good authority that Mr. Littleton is fond of the dish.”

Amelia forced words. “That is very considerate of you, Aunt.”

Her aunt lowered her spoon to the table, surprise crossing her pointed features. “Why, Amelia, I should think you might show
more enthusiasm. It has been more than two weeks since he last was here, has it not?”

Amelia nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, Aunt. A fortnight.”

“Two weeks is a long time to be separated from one’s love.”

Separated from one’s love?

Did she love Edward?

At the beginning of their engagement, she had believed so. But now? So much had changed in the span of the past year that made her question the wisdom of her choice. And now, with Edward’s refusal to allow Lucy to remain at Winterwood once they wed, she realized he was not the man she’d thought she knew.

“And what of the child?”

Amelia jerked her head up at her aunt’s indifferent reference to Lucy. Immersed in her own thoughts, she had lost track of the discussion.

But before Amelia could formulate a response, Helena spoke. “Have you not heard? Captain Sterling has returned just yesterday. He is at Eastmore Hall with his brother.”

Augusta dropped her fork and turned to face Amelia. “What is this? Oh, my dears, how did I miss this news?”

Amelia would have kicked her cousin under the table if the ornate table had not been so large. “Captain Sterling returned to Darbury yesterday, I believe. He paid us a visit this morning to meet Lucy.”

Aunt Augusta pushed herself to her feet in a rustle of burgundy taffeta. “You girls should have told me of this immediately!”

Amelia thought she saw a hint of a smile flash on Helena’s lips before her cousin looked down at her plate. “I am sorry, Mother. I thought you were aware.”

Aunt Augusta tapped her forefinger to her lips. “I suppose no harm is done. After all, this is good news, is it not? Lucy’s father
will make arrangements for her, and you and Mr. Littleton will be left alone, as newlyweds should be.”

Amelia felt faint at the words. She did not want her aunt—or anyone—thinking that Lucy would be leaving. She straightened her shoulders. “It is my desire that Lucy should remain here, even after we wed.”

“Here? At Winterwood Manor?” Aunt Augusta’s laugh echoed from the high plastered ceilings. “My dear Amelia, you need to focus on starting your own family now. Besides, has Mr. Littleton not forbidden it? You cannot go against his wishes. ’Twould not be right.”

Amelia shook her head. “I am sure I can persuade him. Winterwood is a large estate. He need never even know she is here.”

“I declare, Amelia, I do not understand you. Why can you not just enjoy your life with Mr. Littleton? The child’s father has returned. He will see to her.”

Her aunt gave a firm nod, calling a close to the conversation.

Amelia glanced at her cousin, who continued to stare down at her plate. She had hoped that Helena would come to her defense, help convince Aunt Augusta that she was right. It would hardly be the first time the cousins had allied themselves in such a fashion. But this time Helena remained silent.

Whether the room was indeed suffocating or it just felt that way, Amelia managed to survive dinner. It was clear she had more difficult decisions ahead of her. Her family might not understand her now, but she could only pray they would come to share her perspective. She still cared for Edward. But his refusal to allow Lucy to remain at Winterwood was forcing Amelia to choose between a future with him and her commitment to Lucy.

And that was really no choice at all.

T
he next morning every muscle in Amelia’s body tensed as she waited once more in the drawing room, listening for the sound of carriage wheels. This time, instead of waiting for the captain, she waited for Edward Littleton. And yesterday’s optimism had faded to a nervous melancholy.

Helena, dressed in a silk-embroidered gown of jonquil satin and with glossy hair coiled tightly to her head, rose from the settee with practiced poise and moved to stand beside Amelia. Concern creased her flawless brow as she laid her hand atop Amelia’s arm.

“I do hope you are not upset with me for mentioning Captain Sterling’s return to Mother. You know her disposition, and she would find out about the visit sooner or later. Far better it is for her to find out from you or me than from another source.”

Amelia drew a deep breath and looked toward the window, fearing that if she looked her cousin in the eyes, her true feelings would be evident. Perhaps Helena’s intentions had been innocent. But her cousin’s behavior had been unpredictable since Amelia’s
engagement to Edward had been announced several months prior. Amelia had hoped that sharing her plan to propose to the captain might restore the closeness between them, but unease remained.

Amelia released the breath she’d been holding. Harboring resentment toward Helena would do nothing but steal her energy. “Think nothing of it.”

As if content with Amelia’s response, Helena patted her hand. “Good. Now, let us forget the entire thing.” A pretty smile brightened her cousin’s narrow face. “After all, the captain declined your offer, did he not? I shall never mention it, and the captain, if he is any sort of gentleman, would take it to the grave. So it will be as if your little indiscretion never happened.”

Amelia fought to hold her tongue.
Indiscretion?
She turned away to reach for her shawl. Would she never be able to persuade Helena that she’d proposed out of pure necessity?

Did Helena’s approval even matter?

At the sound of a shout and a carriage on the drive, Amelia lifted her head. Her uncle—and Edward Littleton—had arrived.

“Do you hear that?” Helena left Amelia’s side and lifted the velvet curtain. “There, see! Father and Mr. Littleton are here. I’ll have Mother call for tea. Amelia, be calm now.”

Amelia smoothed her skirt and pinched her cheeks. Edward would be a guest at Winterwood for a little more than a day before traveling on to London for business. In that time she had to convince him to open their home to Lucy. She had little other choice.

The click of the door’s latch echoed through the halls, followed by the sound of rain pounding the stone steps outside. Then Edward’s hearty laugh filled the room. She eased at the sound. He was in a pleasant mood.

The moment Edward stepped into the drawing room, his eyes sought her. She could not help the girlish smile creeping over her lips or the flush rushing to her cheeks under the directness of his
gaze. Even after the turmoil of the past weeks, she could not deny the pleasure his exuberant attentions afforded her.

He was certainly feeling exuberant today. He barely acknowledged Aunt Augusta or Helena before brushing past James, ignoring the butler’s attempt to take his belongings. He simply peeled off his wet greatcoat and dropped his beaver hat on a wingback chair before hastening in Amelia’s direction. His smile stretched wide as he grabbed her hands and pulled her toward him. The scent of rain still clung to his person. Amelia cast a quick glance over at her aunt. Aunt Augusta would never approve of such a blatant display of affection, but she was too engaged in welcoming her own husband home to pay heed to her niece.

Amelia attempted to remove herself from Edward’s grasp, but he tightened his grip on her bare hands and pulled her even closer. His lips were so close that his breath moved a curl next to her ear. “Tell me, dearest Amelia, that you missed me, even a little bit, and I shall be put at ease.”

She tried to tame her nervous smile and finally freed her hands, the intimacy of the interaction making it impossible for her to look him in the eye. She said what she knew he wanted to hear. “Of course I missed you.”

“Well then, I am relieved.” He straightened, his handsome smile continuing to light his face. “For not a moment passed that I didn’t wonder what my dear little Amelia was up to.”

His voice sounded devoid of hidden meanings, but guilt clenched Amelia’s stomach. She hurried to change the subject. “Come over to the fire, Edward. You must be chilled through.”

He did not object. Instead, he picked up her hand once again and looped it through his arm. The heat from the fire and the closeness of the man nearly suffocated her.

He kept his voice soft. “You wore the blue gown. Periwinkle, I believe the young ladies call it? You know how I adore you in this shade.”

She had grown accustomed to his lavish praise of her appearance, but today his quick flattery made her blush. “You mustn’t speak so. Aunt Augusta will hear you.”

He leaned forward and smoothed the broad lace ribbon lining the outer rim of her neckline. “Let her hear me. What does it matter? I will shout it from the rooftops. I’ve nothing to hide.”

“I know, but I beg of you. Propriety.”

He stared at her for several moments, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he allowed his hand to fall to the side. “Very well. If it is what you desire, then so be it.”

Amelia exhaled and directed him to a chair—the very chair, she couldn’t help but notice, to which she had directed the captain the previous morning. He sat down and adjusted his stark white neckcloth. The rain had darkened his hair to almost black, and with his hand he slicked the damp locks off his face. The long side-whiskers framing his high cheekbones accentuated the noble slope of his nose. His dark eyes, always alert, seemed able to delve into her very soul—a thought that made Amelia avert her gaze.

What if he learned of her proposal to Captain Sterling? She feared his reaction as a child fears an impending punishment. For all of Edward’s winning qualities, his temper was no secret. Everything with Edward was an extreme. He was like a whirlwind: passionate and determined, impatient and headstrong. But his propensity to charm overshadowed any lapses of decorum. He could win the approval of almost anyone—and earn forgiveness just as quickly. Until recently, she had found him all but irresistible.