The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,61

under his head. If only he were on his ship. The gentle roll of the sea usually rocked him to sleep, lapping waves serving as a soothing lullaby. This incessant ticking of the mantel clock was enough to drive anyone mad.

He yanked the pillow from beneath his head and hurled it to the ground. During the day he possessed greater control of his thoughts, but at night, in complete silence and darkness, his worries magnified.

After pushing himself up from the bed, he snatched the candle from the nightstand and carried it to the fireplace to light the wick. The flame danced in the drafty room. He moved to the window and lifted the curtain to peer into the night. The outlines of the main stable and the groundskeeper’s shed could barely be seen under the cloak of darkness. A few more hours needed to pass before Eastmore’s grounds would awaken.

He dropped the curtain. Reading would distract him for an hour or two.

He knelt before his wood-and-leather traveling trunk, which had arrived at Eastmore Hall a few days after he had, unlatched the brass lock, and propped open the lid. Inside, his belongings were packed into tight, neat rows. On top lay his uniform jacket and buff breeches, tucked away until he returned to his ship. He smoothed the jacket’s lapel and placed it on the ground, along with his breeches, then grabbed a stack of books. As he did, his gaze fell upon a small tortoiseshell trinket box with ivory inlay.

Katherine’s box.

Gingerly he set the books aside. He picked up the box and turned the key in the delicate lock. Inside, every memento told the story of their romance, and just looking at them transformed his frustration into sorrow. He had not looked inside it since placing Katherine’s letter there two weeks ago. But for some reason, tonight, he felt the need to look at them all, to hold them in his hands. To be reminded. As he anticipated another marriage, even a marriage of convenience, he must find a way to say farewell.

The tiny box was packed as tidily as his traveling trunk. Graham lifted out the pocket watch Katherine had given him on their wedding day. It had belonged to her father. The candle’s light caught the metal surface and flashed into the chamber’s darkness. One day he would give the watch to Lucy, perhaps on her wedding day. He laid it down carefully atop the other items in the trunk. He needed to give it to Amelia for safekeeping. If he never returned, he didn’t want it to find a final resting place on the ocean’s bed.

His heart raced as his rough fingers brushed a tiny parcel secured with brown paper. He loosened the twine and carefully unfolded the stiff wrapping to reveal a long lock of Katherine’s hair, tied with gray ribbon. He flexed his fingers, so awkward and unworthy of touching something so beautiful. If he allowed himself, he could recall the feel of the silky locks sliding through his fingers. Ever so carefully, he held the lock of hair up to the light. The candle’s glow caught the still-vibrant color.

The last trinket in the box was the most precious. Graham lifted out a small portrait in a gilt frame. The passing of time had made it difficult to recall the nuances of Katherine’s likeness, but looking at the miniature brought the memories rushing forth.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his breathing to stay slow. Steady. How he wished the hands of time could be reversed. But no amount of wishing could undo the past. He must care for Lucy now and provide for her welfare once he returned to sea. Would Katherine approve of his marriage to Amelia?

Words from her letter echoed in his mind. “Do not let your heart grow cold.”

Eighteen months had passed since last he held her. Since he whispered farewell. He had not imagined that time would be the last.

With an impatient jerk of his hand, he swept the moisture from his eyes. With great care he rewrapped the lock of hair, pausing to whisper as he lowered it back to its resting place.

“Farewell, darling Katherine.”

Amelia smoothed her emerald velvet cape as she stood in the darkened hallway outside Helena’s bedchamber. She mustered her courage and rapped her knuckles across the closed door. No response. She knocked again. “Helena, are you in there?”

She waited a few moments before knocking again. Helena had to be inside. Hadn’t she just