The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,53

some miracle Mr. Littleton will be willing to look past your lapse of judgment and reconsider a future with you.”

“No.” Amelia jumped up from her chair. Her skirt caught on the table, and she stopped to free the flowing fabric. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She refused to give them the satisfaction of making her cry. “I am determined to marry Captain Sterling and to raise Lucy. No amount of—”

Her words broke off as horse hooves pounded outside the window. She skirted the table and rushed to the window. A thought clenched her mind, and like a wild dog violently shaking its prey, it refused to loosen its hold.

What if Edward returned to Winterwood? What would he do?

Helena jumped up from the table and joined Amelia at the window. “Who has arrived?”

Amelia’s tense shoulders relaxed as Graham’s strong profile became clear. Her confidence surged at the very sight of him. Her knees nearly buckled with relief.

Helena said the words that Amelia’s mouth could not yet form. “It’s Captain Sterling.”

“Despicable man,” huffed Aunt Augusta. In a swirl of pale blue muslin, she returned to her seat at the table. “And arriving at this early hour? Ridiculous.”

The wind billowed the captain’s black greatcoat as he pulled his horse to a stop. Amelia watched as the groom came round to take his horse. She was happy to see him, and was even more grateful to see that he had come alone. The fact that his brother accompanied him the previous night had surprised her, but William Sterling’s repeated visits to Winterwood confirmed her suspicions that he’d been too intoxicated on the occasion of his impropriety to recall it later. If he did remember it, he did not seem ready to acknowledge it, and she would not remind him. She only hoped that the captain would never find out. It was a secret she did not relish keeping. But for the sake of those involved, she must.

Unwilling to wait for Captain Sterling to be properly announced, she hurried from the breakfast room to meet him in the hall. She arrived, breathless, just as he was stepping through the threshold. He swept his beaver hat from his head and handed it to James in one fluid movement. His stormy gray eyes met hers. Her breathing slowed, and something fluttered in her heart—an emotion she did not understand.

He forewent a formal welcome. “Are you all right, Amelia?”

She flushed at the informality with which he addressed her. The only men to call her by her Christian name were her uncle and Edward. But why should he not? “Yes, I am well, thank you.”

“And Lucy?”

“She is well. I spent some time with her in the nursery earlier this morning.”

“Good. Any sign of Littleton?”

“He has not returned to Winterwood, although I have just learned from my uncle that he is still in Darbury.”

“I cannot say I am surprised.” The captain’s every word conveyed purpose. His eyes darted about, as if searching for something. “Is your uncle at home?”

She nodded, purposely diverting her gaze from his split lip. “He is in the breakfast room, with the family.”

“I will speak to him, and then I believe we should call on the vicar and explain the situation. In light of what has happened, the sooner all is finalized, the better.”

He spoke as if checking items off a list, but with every word Amelia relaxed. He was as committed to this plan as she was. His determination boosted her confidence.

“Will you take me to your uncle?”

She nodded. “If you’ll just follow me.”

Amelia would not have thought it possible, but upon her reentering the breakfast room, accompanied by the captain, the room’s oppressive atmosphere grew even colder. Helena stared at something in the middle of the table. Aunt Augusta glared at the captain, and Uncle George continued eating, ignoring them completely.

Amelia’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Uncle, Captain Sterling is here to speak with you.”

Captain Sterling bowed toward Aunt Augusta before turning to her uncle. “Mr. Barrett, I was hoping to have a moment of your time.”

Her uncle’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “You said quite enough last night. I think you should be on your way, sir.”

“That is not an option, I’m afraid. We need to speak. In private.”

“You’ll find my opinions have not changed.”

“I supposed as much. Still, there are matters to discuss.”

As if suffering from a great inconvenience, Uncle George pushed back his chair and stood. He said nothing, but pursed his lips and