The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,44
gown from the end of her bed.
Every sense tingled as she scurried across her chamber. Now fully awake, she cracked the paneled door to better hear the conversation’s echo.
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Upon my honor, I had no idea, sir.”
“Where is she?”
The words registered. Dread seized her and refused to allow her heart to beat. Her feet stayed fixed to the ground.
Edward!
She tried to force her mind into action, but her thoughts sputtered. The patting of Helena’s bare feet coming down the hallway snapped her from her trance.
“Whatever is going on?” Helena rubbed her arms over her shawl. “It’s the middle of the night. Who is here?”
Now wasn’t the time for secrets. All would be made known within hours—maybe minutes. “It’s Edward. Who else could it be? Help me, Helena!” Amelia flew to her wardrobe and pulled out a gown. “Button this for me, will you?”
Before Helena could even respond, Amelia found her stays and draped her dress over her arm. Helena stared at her in rare silence.
“Helena, please! I can’t lace this myself.” She turned her back toward Helena and waited for her assistance.
Helena squeaked in protest, but as the yelling intensified, she complied. When Helena finished, Amelia flew to her writing desk and stood so her body blocked Helena’s view. Her hand shook as she wrote.
Edward Littleton is here. I think he knows. Please come quickly. —AB
“What are you doing?”
Amelia barely heard Helena’s words over her own thoughts. She folded the note, tucked it up her sleeve, and headed toward her chamber door. But Helena stepped in front of her, blocking the exit.
“I said, what are you doing?”
Amelia’s shoulders tensed. “Very well. You might as well know. Captain Sterling and I are going to be wed. Apparently Edward has found out.”
Amelia braced herself for Helena’s dramatic retort, but one did not come. Instead, her cousin’s voice sounded almost sad. “This is a mistake. You know it is. But maybe it’s not too late. Mr. Littleton is not an unreasonable man, and—”
“No. I am resolved.” Amelia reached for her shawl and turned to face her cousin. “You would not happen to know how he learned of the engagement, would you?”
Helena tightened her shawl around her shoulders, eyes wide. “How could you insinuate such a thing? Of course not. Where are you going?”
Amelia did not answer. She flew down the servants’ stairs, leaving Helena standing in the hall. Blackness shrouded the lock of the servants’ entrance. Her fingers shook and she fumbled with the key. Eventually the door opened, and Amelia sprinted toward the stables.
The lawn had never seemed so wide. Her bare feet slipped several times on the dewy grass. As she rounded the back corner of the mansion, she lost her footing and fell hard on her stomach, sliding over the wet turf. She ignored the pain, pushed herself up, and continued.
She arrived at the stables, gasping for air. A lantern lit the front half of the stable, where two stable boys were tending a gray gelding. Edward’s horse.
“Peter!” She needed someone who was fast, and the younger of the two stable boys seemed the best choice. Obviously shocked at seeing his mistress in the middle of the night, he swept his hat from his head and stepped forward. “Yes, miss?”
She held the note out to the boy. “Take this as fast as you can to Eastmore Hall. Give it to Captain Sterling. Do not leave until you place it in his hand yourself. Do you hear me?”
The boy nodded his head emphatically. “Yes. Yes, miss.”
She shooed him on. “Go. Go quickly, and be smart about it!”
Without another word, the boy pulled a horse from a nearby stall. Flinging himself on the animal’s bare back, he disappeared into the black night.
She turned back to the house. From where she stood, she could barely see into the drawing room window. Faint light trickled from the opening, and a black figure moved across the space. Her heart thudded as she ran back across the lawn to the servants’ entrance.
As soon as she opened the door, animated chatter reached her ears. She didn’t see anyone, but it was clear the commotion had awakened the staff as well. She took the stairs at a very unladylike two-at-a-time pace until she reached her landing.
What she heard made her heart freeze. Footsteps stomped on the main stairs.
As if in a race, she bolted to her chamber. She dropped her wet shawl and grabbed a dry one, only now noticing the wet mud