The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,26

window to the grounds below. As she did, her gaze fell on the one person who held the power to change her situation.

Captain Graham Sterling.

Graham’s headstrong mount stopped midtrot and veered sharply to the right. Again. Graham lurched in the saddle and yanked the leather reins, struggling for balance. The obstinate horse’s uneven gait and strange penchant to change direction without warning would threaten to unseat the most experienced rider, let alone a man who had spent most of his days at sea.

“Need help controlling that beast?” mocked William, pulling his fine bay up next to Graham.

“Stubborn mule.” Graham assessed his steed’s crooked ear and squeezed his legs around the animal’s belly. He’d never been much of a horseman, and his years at sea had not helped. He resented having to buy the animal on his journey from Plymouth to Darbury, but he had been forced to when unable to secure a post chaise for a leg of the journey. He’d been so anxious to arrive that he had purchased the first halfway suitable mount he’d come across. He’d been paying the price ever since.

“We should have taken the carriage.”

William laughed. “Nonsense. Too fine of a day for that. Finally, an afternoon free of rain! Besides, ’twould be a bother to take the carriage for such a short drive.” He nodded toward Graham’s horse. “When the time comes to select a pony for that daughter of yours, I suggest you leave it to me. It appears you have little talent for it.”

Graham ignored his brother’s jab and tightened his grip on the reins. The feisty animal wouldn’t gain the upper hand again.

“I, on the other hand, have an excellent eye for horseflesh,” continued William, his light eyes twinkling. “Take Tibbs here, for example.” He gave a low whistle, and the stallion’s ears perked up. “Pity I must sell him.”

“What? Sell that one?” Graham nodded at William’s prized bay. “I thought he was your favorite.”

“He is, but he’ll also fetch a fine price at Abbott’s.”

“Eastmore seems to be doing well enough. Why worry about money?”

William shrugged. “Ah, you know, foolish decisions, bad bets. Nothing outlandish, but a few extra pounds lining my pockets could not hurt.”

Graham masked his surprise at his brother’s comment and followed William through Winterwood’s iron gates. Tall elms lined the drive. Autumn had blown most of the gold and crimson leaves to the ground, leaving a brave few to hold their stead against the insistent wind. Beyond the drive, Winterwood’s gray battlements jutted majestically into the crisp blue sky. The sun’s brilliant glow reflected from the numerous bay windows and cast shadows below the cornices and pediments.

They reached the main entrance, and two adolescent stable boys appeared to take the horses. Graham swung himself to the ground and handed a boy the reins, grateful to have both feet back on the ground. He started toward Winterwood’s heavy front door, then noticed that his brother hung back.

Graham paused. “Are you not coming?”

William removed his leather riding gloves and tucked them in his pocket. “Of course. Of course.”

Why was he acting so strange? Graham decided to overlook the alteration in his brother’s demeanor. Heading back to the door, he lifted the iron knocker and let it fall. The anticipation of seeing his daughter again brought lightness to his step. Would she remember him?

The butler answered the door and ushered Graham and William into the drawing room. Everything looked exactly as it had when Graham first arrived at Winterwood three days past. But how different everything seemed now.

“Captain Sterling!” Miss Barrett appeared in the doorway, her lemon-colored gown bright as the afternoon sunshine, Lucy in her arms.

“And Mr. Sterling.” Miss Barrett’s smile faded a little when she spotted William. A slight awkwardness hovered between them, and Graham made a note to ask William about it later. But right now he could think about little else besides his bonny daughter.

Graham stepped forward eagerly, remembering how easily she had come to him that first day. But today she shrank back against Miss Barrett, her eyes regarding him with trepidation. When he reached out to take her, she turned her head and clung to Miss Barrett.

“Come now, dearest,” coaxed Miss Barrett, her voice soft and low. “Go to your father. He’s come such a long way to see you.” As she tried to pass the child to Graham’s arms, Lucy shrilled with such vehemence that he had to keep himself from covering his ear.

Graham stepped back, alarmed that his own child should be