The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,23
Miss Barrett. Thank you for your kindness. I am grateful she did not die alone.”
Amelia fixed her eyes on her hands. “As I have told you, Katherine asked me to care for Lucy. I promised, and I do not give promises lightly. Ever since that day, Lucy has never been out of my care.” She hesitated. “And forgive me for speaking on such a private matter, but I intend my words to be a comfort. Katherine loved you so very much.”
Words failed Graham. The more details he heard, the more difficult they were to hear. To absorb. He had hoped that knowledge would soothe the unsettled ache in his chest, but the answers only caused further turmoil.
Drops of rain blew in with the wind. A shout echoed from inside Winterwood, and Amelia cast a nervous glance toward the door. “I must go now, Captain. Edw—Mr. Littleton—will be looking for me.” She bobbed a curtsy, but instead of heading toward the drawing room door, she moved to the stone stairs leading down to the lawn.
“Where are you going?”
Her glance back at him was incredulous. “You do not suggest that I go back through those doors after being alone with you out here?”
He shook his head. “Do not be absurd. It’s been raining for days! You’ll slip and do yourself harm in all that mud.”
“Captain Sterling, we have shared this terrace for more than a quarter of an hour, and there may be guests in the library. If someone should notice that we walked in at the same time—no, I thank you. I will go around.”
He trailed her as she moved farther into the darkness. “It’s starting to rain. You will be soaked through. We’ll go in through different doors, and surely no one will see.”
She stopped and turned so quickly that he almost ran into her. “I do not think you understand.” She fretted with the edge of her shawl. “Mr. Littleton is not a man to be crossed. If he should even think that you, um, I mean, that I . . .”
Her words faded, and she diverted her eyes.
Was she frightened of Edward Littleton, or were her words a warning? And if the latter were true, did she think the man intimidated him? Graham stifled a snort. “You don’t know me very well, Miss Barrett.”
Miss Barrett jutted her chin into the air. “And you do not know me, sir.”
He stepped closer to her, almost enjoying the interchange as a welcome relief from the somber nature of their discussion. “Your Mr. Little-whatever-his-name-is is a pup compared to the men I deal with every day.”
She matched his step with a backward one of her own. “Well, you do not have to live with the man. I am to be married to him in a matter of weeks. I would consider your discretion a personal favor.”
“It’s none of my business, but—”
“You are right,” she cut him off. “It is none of your business. So if you’ll pardon me . . .”
This was ridiculous. He could not, would not, let her or any other woman go stumbling blindly into the dark night.
The rain’s intensity increased. The drops plopped on his cheeks and brushed his eyelashes. “Very well,” he grumbled, waving his hand toward the door. “Go inside if you must. I’ll go around.”
She hesitated, but as a fresh gust of wind brought stronger rain, she ducked her head and looped her shawl over her hair. “Thank you, Captain Sterling. If you round the corner there, you’ll find the kitchen entrance.”
He covered sarcasm with a huff. “I think I can find it.”
“I will see you inside.”
She disappeared through the door. Staring at the empty door frame, he flipped up his collar and descended the stairs to the lawn.
Graham slipped back inside Winterwood Manor and followed the sound of voices to the billiards room, where the men had gathered. The room was dim and close. The smoke from the fireplace escaped and curled toward the molded ceilings, obscuring the multitude of landscape paintings adorning the dark green walls. Laughter abounded. He took a seat next to the fire, hoping the warmth would dry out his soggy boots.
“Mr. Littleton is not a man to be crossed.” Miss Barrett’s words echoed in his mind. He stared at Littleton, who stood next to the billiard table, cue in hand, laughing a little too loudly. The man’s arrogant manner irked Graham. So did his obviously drunken state.
“Well, well, where have you been?” William sauntered