The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,65
look at his face when such a thought spun itself in her mind.
Her plan to persuade the captain to marry her so she could fulfill her promise to Katherine was successful, or at least it would be in mere days. What right did she have to expect—or even think about—anything more? Captain Sterling had married Katherine for love. He was marrying her out of obligation. But then again, there had been a certain attentiveness to their interchange in the hall that made her believe he could, at some point, develop feelings for her. Her heart gave a little lurch. She was prepared to live a life free of romance if it meant she could care for Lucy. Dare she even hope for more?
She knew she was not well schooled in the intricacies of a relationship between man and woman. Without a mother to guide her, her sole education in matters of love came from romantic novels and poetry. And from Aunt Augusta, who had told her, “Love comes later, sometimes not at all. But you are a wealthy woman, so with love or without it, you at least will always be secure . . .”
Still, it seemed to her that something had sparked between the captain and herself. And what she felt now was like nothing she’d experienced before. She felt comfortable yet nervous. Safe but vulnerable. Protected but exposed.
But even as the memory of her hand resting on his sleeve brought a flush to her cheeks, she couldn’t help remembering more of Aunt Augusta’s love advice. “Men will be after you for your money, so you should trust no one.”
Can I trust Captain Sterling?
Someone’s hand brushed her shoulder. “That’s Jonathan Riley, is it not?”
Amelia nearly jumped from her seat.
Captain Sterling leaned closer. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He put his spoon down and continued. “The man on the other side of William? Jonathan Riley, correct?”
Amelia followed his gaze to a tall, brown-haired man. “Yes, to be sure.” She noticed right away that both Mr. Riley and William Sterling had already indulged in too much wine. Their laughter interrupted the conversations around them. She looked over at Jane, whose irritated gaze was fixed on the captain’s brother. Amelia glanced back to the captain. If anything, he looked more agitated than Jane.
Amelia winced as Mr. Riley pounded his fist on the table and spilled the remainder of his wine. Silence fell over the room, and a servant hurried to blot up the wine. Graham’s stormy eyes narrowed on his brother. She could feel his frustration just as clearly as she could smell the mild scent of sandalwood that always seemed to accompany him. She glanced over at Jane, who was glaring at William Sterling.
It was going to be a long evening.
At the conclusion of dinner, the women retreated to the parlor for tea and coffee, and the men remained in the dining room for port and brandy. But Graham worked his way over to William, grabbed his brother by the arm, and pushed him from the dining room, out the front door, and into the night.
The night had grown markedly colder since they first arrived. Frigid air gusted down from the home’s pitched roof, and spattered flurries of snow played in the night wind. Graham tapped the door closed with the heel of his boot before speaking. “What are you doing? You’re making a mockery of yourself.”
“What?” William looked at him through glassy eyes. “I was just trying to amuse myself a bit. Deadly dull evening, I’m afraid.”
“Then you need not stay.”
Graham turned to rejoin the men, but William grabbed him by the arm. “Did you speak with her about the money?”
Graham jerked his arm free. “This is neither the time nor the place to speak of this. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“This cannot wait.”
“Why?”
William licked his lips, glancing about as if to ensure nobody was within earshot. His clumsy words slid into one another, making him difficult to understand. “I’m in trouble, brother. Do not make me recount details. Let’s just say my creditors are growing impatient. If you don’t want to give me the money outright, so be it. A loan, then. I will pay you back.”
“Even if I had the money to give, I could hardly get it tonight.”
“You had Carrington purchase the west fields back from Littleton, did you not? How did you get that money?”
“I did ask Mr. Carrington to oversee the purchase—anonymously, of course—but I used my own funds, not Miss Barrett’s.”