The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,102

asleep right next to me, she is.”

“Do not worry, Mrs. Dunne. Captain Sterling will find us.” Her words were directed to herself as much as to the nurse. “He’s been out looking all day.”

“Does he have enough to pay the ransom?”

“He does. Let’s just pray it all goes well.” She hesitated, but her desire for the truth outweighed the need for discretion. “Are you aware of Helena being involved?”

“What, Miss Helena Barrett?”

“The very same.”

“No, ma’am, not at all. Surely you do not think—”

Without warning, a crash thundered from outside her door. Amelia gasped and jumped to her feet, and Mrs. Dunne’s finger disappeared through the hole in the wall. A distant door creaked on its hinges, and boots stomped the planked floors. The blood pounded in her ears with such intensity that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.

Two, perhaps three male voices echoed, but her heart lurched when she heard one voice in particular. Edward.

“Where is she?”

Amelia stiffened. She knew he was talking about her. Her hair, which had long since fallen free of her ivory comb, hung limply over her shoulders. She combed her shaky hands through the tangled curls. She might not feel confident, but by the grace of God, she would appear so.

Something was dragged away from the door. Amelia held her breath as the latch turned and the door swung open. Light from a lantern stung her eyes. Determined to show no weakness, she forced her eyes wide.

“What is she doing in the dark?” Edward hissed at the men behind him. “Is this any way to treat a lady?” He shouted his reprimand over his shoulder as he stepped into the dingy room, a lit tin lantern in hand. Dark shadows hid his features, but she could imagine the smirk he used to give her when he believed he had the upper hand. Well, those days were in the past . . . and they had taken a very dangerous turn. She had to be strong now—for Lucy and for herself.

She jutted her chin in the air. “I demand to know what is going on, Edward.”

“I think you know exactly what is going on, Amelia dear.”

“You are mistaken. Perhaps you had better explain it to me.”

He chuckled. “Oh, Amelia, do not be coy. It doesn’t suit you. You understand perfectly.”

Even in the dark, she saw the outline of his firm jaw. High cheekbones. How had she ever thought him handsome? Charming? His customary scent of port and tobacco assaulted her senses. She winced as his forefinger traced down her cheek, but she refused to allow her gaze to falter. “You’re a liar, Edward Littleton.” Her pointed accusation reverberated from every surface in the room. “I know you are angry with me, but how could you do this to an innocent child?”

Her statement seemed to amuse him. His white teeth flashed in the darkness. “You forced me to. Do you not see it?”

“I forced you to do nothing.”

“On the contrary.” With slow, deliberate steps he began to circle her, like a hawk circling its prey. She straightened her posture and stared forward. She would not give him the satisfaction of showing any fear.

He continued in hushed tones. “You betrayed me, Amelia, and see where that has gotten you?”

Amelia winced as he leaned close to her, his thick fingers caressing her shoulder. “Where’s Helena?”

“Helena?”

“I saw you with her. Where is she?”

“Do not trouble yourself with Helena. She is not your concern.” He dropped his hand and called back over his shoulder, “Get the baby and the nurse and get ready to head to the docks.” He turned his attention back to Amelia. “And don’t think I have forgotten you.”

Amelia gritted her teeth. She glanced around, searching for a means of escape, but Edward’s large frame blocked the door, and behind him stood at least three other men. “Where are you taking us?”

“That would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it? No doubt you expect your dashing Captain Sterling to rush to your aid. But we shall see about that, shall we not?”

Amelia balled her fists at her sides. But suddenly, it all faded when she caught sight of what she had been waiting for days to see—a glimpse of Lucy, her Lucy. The baby’s face was dirty and tearstained, and she squirmed in the arms of a strange man.

Amelia’s nostrils flared, but she forced herself to remain controlled. This was a game to Edward. She could play it too. “I know what you are after. I’m