The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,2
she was taking the right course, difficult though it may be. She simply had to steel herself for the awkwardness of the coming interview with the captain.
A shout sounded outside the window, followed by the crunch of carriage wheels on the gravel front drive. The women locked gazes. Ready or not, the time had come.
Amelia dashed across the room and grabbed her cousin’s hand. “Promise you will not say a word.”
Helena offered a weak smile. “I do wish you would heed my words, Cousin, but since you are resolved, you have my word. Just, please, at least consider what I have said.” With a sweep of her primrose muslin skirt, she quitted the room.
Amelia’s slippered feet made little sound as she stepped over the Italian rug to the window. She lifted the corner of the green velvet curtain in time to see the back of the barouche, shiny and slick from the morning’s rain, slow to a stop at Winterwood Manor’s front entrance.
She smoothed a curl and forced a slow breath. Like it or not, her task was before her. She must not fail. She hurried to the teak writing desk and checked once again to ensure that Katherine’s letter was in its place.
A knock echoed in the paneled room. The door unlatched and swung open, revealing James, the aging butler. “Captain Sterling to see you, miss.”
“Will you show him in? And please send Sally in with some tea.”
Amelia waited for the mahogany door to close before gathering the sleeping Lucy in her arms. Footsteps echoed on the hall’s planked floor. She straightened. James reappeared, but Amelia barely noticed. Her eyes fixed on the tall figure filling the door frame behind him.
Captain Sterling stepped into the light. She had expected him to be fair like his brother or stout like his father had been. He was neither. Sable hair curled over the high collar of his charcoal tailcoat, and his sideburns framed high cheekbones. Stormy gray eyes peered from a fringe of black lashes and darted from Lucy, to her, then back to the baby. His freshly shaven skin, bronzed dark from the sun, gave evidence of months spent on board a ship. She had half expected him to be dressed in uniform, but his dress was that of a gentleman.
At the sight of him, a nervous wave pulsed through Amelia’s veins. For weeks she had anticipated meeting this man. She had practiced what she would say and rehearsed it at length. But she had never expected to be affected so by startling smoky eyes. With a deep breath she pushed her anxiety at bay, stepped forward, and forced her best smile. “We meet at last! I am Amelia Barrett.”
He bowed and their eyes met once more, but his interest was not in his hostess. His attention fixed on the child nestled in Amelia’s embrace. Amelia shifted to give the captain a better view, and at the movement, Lucy stirred and opened her eyes.
Amelia stepped even closer and lifted Lucy into her father’s waiting arms. “Captain Sterling, I would like for you to meet your daughter, Miss Lucille Katherine Sterling.”
A tentative smile tugged the corners of his mouth. The captain accepted the child in his arms and cradled her against his chest. Father and daughter stared at one another for several moments, until Lucy lost interest in him and found the fabric-covered button adorning his tailcoat. He touched his fingertips to the copper curls that escaped her lace bonnet. “She has red hair.”
She nodded. “Like her mother.”
Lucy wiggled in her father’s arms and released a shrill cry. The captain stiffened. “Whatever is the matter?” He extended the small body away from him, at which point Lucy’s face scrunched and a wail escaped. His eyes widened in what could only be panic. “Why is she crying?”
Amelia masked a smile. Had the man ever held a child? “She is just getting comfortable, I am sure. Here, allow me.”
The captain, all too eager to hand over the crying child, deposited Lucy in Amelia’s arms and stepped back. She soothed Lucy until the child calmed. With a wave of her hand, she directed the captain to a wingback chair by the fire. “Please be seated.”
Amelia placed Lucy in the cradle next to the captain’s chair and looked up as Sally, the downstairs maid, appeared with a tray of tea and biscuits. Grateful for the distraction, she turned to direct the servant. But out of the corner of her eye she watched the captain lean