The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,45

smeared across her front from her fall.

She didn’t even have time to groan, for a knock on the door demanded her attention. “Amelia Barrett, open this door this instant.”

Only Aunt Augusta. Amelia forced her breathing to slow before opening the chamber door. Her aunt pushed her way inside and grabbed Amelia’s arm.

Amelia yanked free. “Let go of me!”

“Edward is downstairs. What have you done, you foolish girl?” Aunt Augusta pinched her lips together, waiting for Amelia’s response.

Amelia straightened her spine, determined to stand her ground. “From your demeanor, I believe you already know the answer to that question.”

Her aunt’s rheumy eyes narrowed on her. “I do not know what you are trying to accomplish, but you listen to me. I will not allow you to ruin the future of this family. Of all the insolence! You will marry Edward.”

Amelia bristled at the words. Of course her aunt had every right to be surprised and even angry, but the accusation in her tone only fueled Amelia’s determination. “I’ve made no decision out of spite, Aunt. Lucy is my top priority, and I’ve made that clear since the moment she was born. I apologize for the effect that this has on you and Uncle and Helena, but I must consider my future. Lucy’s future. And if you knew Edward as I do, you and Uncle would think twice before trusting him with any matter of significance.”

Aunt Augusta’s lips quivered with anger. “I am grateful for one thing and one thing alone. Praise the Almighty that your father is not alive to see the type of person you have become.”

Those words stung more than Amelia cared to admit. What would her father think of this?

Her aunt’s rant continued. “Regardless of whom you have so recklessly decided to marry, the sooner you are no longer a part of the Barrett family, the better.”

Amelia forced her expression to remain stoic. She would not allow Aunt Augusta the satisfaction of seeing any emotion. If she allowed herself to become flustered, she might lose her composure when speaking with Edward.

“And look at the state of you, Amelia.” Her aunt’s gaze raked down the front of Amelia’s gown. “What have you been doing?”

Amelia searched for an excuse, but none came. How could she admit that she had slipped in the mud to beg assistance of the stable boy?

Her aunt didn’t wait for an explanation. “Well, you can’t see Edward dressed like that. Heaven already knows what the man thinks.” Her voice echoed flat. “Change your gown quickly, then come downstairs. You have some explaining to do.”

A welcome silence settled over the room with her aunt’s departure, and Amelia turned to the wardrobe to get a clean dress. When she turned back around, Helena stood in the empty space where her mother had been. Without a word, the younger cousin stepped forward to unbutton Amelia’s soiled dress. Even with only the light from a single flickering candle, Amelia interpreted the sorrow on Helena’s face.

As girls, Helena and Amelia had been inseparable. They had shared a governess, shared secrets, shared each other’s company. Only in the last year had their relationship changed, for reasons Amelia still did not completely understand. “Please, Helena,” she whispered, “don’t hate me.”

Helena buttoned the last button and rested her hand on Amelia’s trembling shoulders. “I don’t hate you.” Emotion hung in her voice. “I don’t understand you, but I could never hate you. Just remember, Cousin, that what we think we want may not always be best.”

Helena offered a weak smile and stepped toward the door. Not convinced it would help ease the situation, Amelia breathed a desperate prayer, hoping that by some miracle she would find the right words to say to Edward.

“Fear not. I am with you.”

Amelia’s head jerked up. “What did you say?”

Confusion clouded Helena’s features. “I didn’t say anything. You’d better hurry. Mother is furious.”

Amelia smoothed her dress and ran shaky fingers through her tangled hair. Her gaze landed on the Bible on her bedside table. Could it be?

“I am with you.”

Helena squeezed Amelia’s hand as they descended the wide staircase. Below them, Amelia could hear her uncle and Edward speaking, but at least they were no longer shouting.

Amelia willed herself not to buckle under her mounting fear of what Edward was capable of. She was resolved in her decision and would not waver, but confidence in her ability to convince anyone in her family had waned. She could no longer rely on their support.

She breathed a prayer, then repeated it,

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