The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,32

again and picked up the Bible. The worn pages fell open, and she pictured her father sitting at his desk, poring over the same words that now stared up at her.

“Have faith, dearest.” She attempted to thrust Jane’s words from her mind. They refused to be ignored.

But hadn’t she asked God repeatedly for his help? He either had not been listening or cared not. She slapped the Bible closed and flung it down beside her. How could trusting in a plan that might or might not exist bring her anything but heartache?

Tears welled. She’d considered every detail. But was she any closer to getting her way? Fighting for control had only cinched the noose tighter. Weary of fighting and planning, she wanted rest. She wanted to feel peace. Could it really be as simple as trusting God?

A rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. She bolted upright from the bed.

“Amelia, it is Helena!” Knuckles tapped the door again. “Open the door!”

Amelia did not move.

“Whatever’s the matter with you?” Helena’s voice held urgency. “Mr. Littleton is in a terrible state. I’ve not seen him like this before.”

Amelia pressed her hand to her mouth, willing her cousin to leave.

“Amelia? Are you awake?” Helena jiggled the door’s handle. A few long seconds of silence ensued, then Amelia heard the soft pat of Helena’s slippers moving away from the door.

Amelia waited until she was sure Helena was gone before drawing the curtains for the night. Outside, clouds were gathering.

“I want to trust you, God. But I don’t know how.” Amelia’s chin trembled. “If you have a plan for me, please make it known. I cannot do this alone.”

William poured himself another glass of brandy and leaned his arm against the library mantel. “I’ll tell you what you need, Graham, and that is a distraction.”

Graham looked up from the letter he was writing and frowned. “No, what I need is to find a nurse for Lucy.”

“Doesn’t she have a nurse already? That Irish woman?”

“I can hardly hire Mrs. Dunne while she’s employed by Miss Barrett. And I need to have someone in place before I bring Lucy here. The situation at Winterwood Manor is becoming untenable.”

William took a long swig and shook his head. “Never did care for Littleton. Now I care for him even less. And to think I was even considering selling him the west fields.”

Graham lifted an eyebrow. “I think you’d be wise not to enter into any agreement with that fellow.”

“No doubt you are right.” William dragged his fingers along the fireplace’s fluted lintel, then pushed himself away from the mantel. “But back to the distraction I was speaking of. Jonathan Riley over at Wharton Park is hosting a hunting party on his grounds. Nothing extravagant, just gentlemen who like to follow the hounds and fancy some cards and a drink or two afterward. I depart in the morning and will likely stay a few days. Riley’s estate is only an hour or so away by horseback. Join us.”

Graham considered the offer. The idea of a few days spent in mindless diversion tempted him. But too much of his youth had been wasted away in “distraction.” He had left such pastimes locked in his past, and he was not about to revisit them. “Thanks, but no. I’ve things to do.”

“Suit yourself. I still think it would do you good.”

William moved to exit the room, but changed his mind and dropped into a chair. “Of course, it is none of my business, but it seems a shame that Miss Barrett’s marrying Littleton. She’s so attached to Lucy that she would probably marry you just to keep the child with her. If Littleton was as disrespectful as you claim, she’d probably be grateful for it.”

Graham turned toward William, suspicious that he might have somehow heard about Miss Barrett’s proposal. But William’s expression was innocent. “You think a woman would marry a man just for a child?”

William shrugged and propped his boot over his other leg. “Maybe not most women. But Miss Barrett is wealthy in her own right, so she has no need to concern herself with the sorts of things that motivate other women.” He brushed at his coat. “I would’ve asked her myself, but I believe at one point in the not-so-distant past, she referred to me as a self-absorbed blubbering idiot. Not exactly a match ordained in heaven.”

Graham chuckled. Miss Barrett was indeed a woman who would speak her mind. He could almost hear the words slip from her lips.

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