tucked his paper under his arm, then pointed to the threshold and walked through it. Graham followed.
Amelia rubbed her neck and rested her hand on her shoulder as she watched the men disappear. Unable to endure the breakfast table any longer, she withdrew to the drawing room to wait.
Outside the window, the sun’s white light caught on the edge of the silver clouds and reflected to the ground below. The frost shone like diamonds on the expansive lawn. Everything looked so calm. So peaceful. Why couldn’t it storm to match the restless turmoil churning within her?
Graham tapped his fingers on the carriage windowsill on the short ride to the vicarage. His conversation with George Barrett echoed in his mind like a noisy gull. He’d hoped to smooth things over for Lucy’s sake as well as Amelia’s, but the old man had proved every bit as stubborn as his niece.
He watched Amelia as she fussed with the fur lining of her pelisse and adjusted her cap. Only when she looked at him with those bright blue eyes did he realize he was staring.
“You seem lost in thought, Captain Sterling.” Her voice seemed tranquil, though her shadowed eyes and tightly laced fingers told another story.
He shifted in his seat and braced himself as the carriage lurched forward into motion. “I hope last night’s events were not too disturbing for you.”
She shook her head. “’Tis a shame it happened, but I daresay it was to be expected. I knew Edward was of a passionate bent, but I would never have expected him to strike you.”
“I’ve taken my fair share of blows in my days. This was little different.”
“Be that as it may, he had no right to do so.” She fiddled with the lace trim on her reticule, her eyebrows drawn. “What did Uncle George say when you spoke?”
Graham looked out the carriage window. How could he tell her the truth—that if she proceeded with this marriage, she was as good as dead to her uncle? “It was . . . in keeping with what he said last night.”
“Did he tell you any more of Edward being in town?”
“He did.” Graham’s jaw twitched. If this had been purely a case of a jilted lover, the wounded beau would retreat and nurse his wounds. But this had nothing to do with affection . . . and everything to do with greed.
Graham swayed with the carriage as it jostled down the rutted road. He studied the profile of the woman who would be his wife very soon.
Wife. The very word denoted intimacy. And yet Amelia was still a stranger to him.
He knew she was intelligent. Loyal. Kind. Impulsive. Loving with children, terrible with watercolors. But what of her past? Her dreams? He wanted to know more about her. No, wanted to know everything about her.
His coat seemed to tighten as the carriage’s comfortable silence closed around him. He pulled his gloves from his hands and tucked them in his pocket.
Keep to business.
Jane Hammond didn’t wait for her butler to announce Amelia and Graham’s arrival. She met them at the door herself, her brow furrowed. “Edward Littleton was just here. I’ve never seen a man so beside himself.”
Edward, here? Amelia’s stomach clenched. The Hammond house had always been a refuge for her, and Edward’s visit felt like a violation.
“I need to talk with you and Mr. Hammond.” She gestured toward Captain Sterling, who followed her through the door. “We need to talk with you.”
Mrs. Hammond winced as her gaze fell on the captain’s lip. “For mercy’s sake, what happened?”
Amelia didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Edward struck him.”
Jane shook her head and ushered them in. Amelia handed her cap and reticule to a somberly dressed servant and attempted to remove her kidskin gloves. She hadn’t realized her hands were trembling until she tried to unfasten the tiny ivory button at the base of her palm. She bit her lip, determined to free her hand from the glove’s grip. Why couldn’t anything be easy?
So focused was Amelia on the glove that she nearly jumped when Jane touched her shoulder. “Here, dearest, allow me.”
Amelia sighed and extended her wrist to Jane, keeping her eyes downcast. What had Edward been thinking to come here? What right did he have?
Amelia swallowed as she watched Jane’s long, graceful fingers work the button through the loop and then gently pull the glove from her hand. She released a shaky breath and stretched her fingers. “Thank you.”
Jane called for tea, then ushered