The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,4
blessing, I fully intend to honor this promise, and I have had these nine months to consider how to do so. I have devised a plan that I think will work to the best interest of all involved.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “What do you recommend?”
Her clasped hands tightened in her lap. “Since you are from Darbury originally, you may be aware that I am to inherit Winterwood Manor.”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. He no longer looked through her, but at her.
“When my father bought this estate, many years before he died, it was in ruins. He dreamed of restoring it to its former glory, and now I share his dream. I am his only child, and there was no specified entailment, so Winterwood will pass to me when I marry. Until then it remains in the hands of my uncle.”
Her next words flew from her mouth in a rush—not at all as she had rehearsed. “I would like Lucy to live here with me. She will want for nothing. She will have the best governesses, the finest clothes. And when the time comes, her dowry will be significant.”
The captain’s eyes widened. He stared at her as if she had grown a second head. Self-consciousness forced her to lower her gaze. She held her breath and waited for his response.
Finally he spoke. “I confess I had hoped you might offer some guidance in the matter.”
Amelia exhaled. She straightened her sleeve, carefully smoothing the lace cuff. She must choose her next words very carefully. They were crucial to the success of her plan.
“Lucy is not—and never will be—a burden to me. Having said that, there is one barrier to her continuing to live at Winterwood. You see, in order to fully inherit, I must be married by the time I turn twenty-four years of age or the entire estate will pass to one of my distant cousins. If that happens, I will have nothing—no home, no money, no means of caring for a child . . .”
Her words trailed off. She leaned closer and lowered her unsteady voice. “I am currently engaged to marry Mr. Edward Littleton of Dunton. But Mr. Littleton has made it clear that once we are married, Lucy cannot continue to live at Winterwood.”
No longer able to sit, Amelia jumped from her seat and stepped toward him. “Captain, I have raised Lucy these nine months. I could not love her more if she were my own. She is more important to me than a hundred Mr. Littletons and a thousand Winterwoods. Believe me when I say I will do whatever necessary to see her well cared for.”
The captain stood to his full height. “You said you had a plan, Miss Barrett.”
Amelia’s hands shook. It was useless to even try to prevent her lip from quivering as she spoke. “In order to continue raising Lucy when you return to your duties, and in order to inherit Winterwood and have the resources to provide Lucy with what she needs, I would need to marry someone besides Mr. Littleton in the next few weeks.”
His eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
“You, Captain Sterling. You and I should marry. Immediately.”
Uncertain if he had heard the slip of a woman correctly, Graham Sterling suppressed an incredulous chuckle. How is one supposed to respond when a lady—let alone an attractive stranger—proposes marriage?
“Are you always this direct, Miss Barrett?”
“The circumstances demand it, sir.” Miss Amelia Barrett’s gaze did not waver. “But I am sure you can see that the arrangement would be advantageous. You need someone to care for Lucy.” Her hand flew to her chest. “Who better than I, the person who has loved her since birth?”
Graham could not have torn his eyes away from the animated woman even if he wanted to. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and her sapphire eyes sparkled with brilliant intensity. Mere minutes had passed since he first encountered this young woman. But already Graham knew with certainty that Miss Amelia Barrett was a force to reckon with.
He cleared his throat. “Do you not think marriage a bit . . . drastic?”
Lucy’s whimper interrupted their conversation. Grateful for the distraction, Graham returned to his chair. Without a moment’s hesitation, Miss Barrett leaned down, picked up Lucy from the cradle, and propped the child on her hip. Lucy peered at him from over Miss Barrett’s shoulder. The child—his child—had brown eyes. Wide brown eyes.
Katherine’s eyes. The fleeting thought stole the air from