I have known you for less than a month. How am I to know your, well, your—”
“Is reputation the word you seek?” She did not wait for him to respond. “I assure you, sir, that you’ll find no finer reputation in all of England.” She pinned him with her stare. “Keep in mind that I could ask similar questions of you.”
Graham shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“Your private life, such as it is, is your business. As I told you the day you arrived at Winterwood, ours is a business agreement. I will care for Lucy, and you are free to do as you have been doing.”
He raised his hands as if to declare innocence. “What exactly is it that you think I do?”
She ignored his question. “I have no expectations of you in regard to a romantic relationship. I assure you, I have done nothing to tarnish my reputation with your brother, but in light of our arrangement, I hardly feel the need to defend myself.”
“Our arrangement, hmm? Is that what we are calling this?” Graham did not know whether he should be angry, defensive, or offended. He stepped away from her. Perhaps he had misinterpreted her intentions while they were in the corridor. He could attribute her anger to embarrassment or exhaustion. Or perhaps he had imagined she had been warming to him because he wanted it to be true. After all, had she not made it very clear from the start that her priority was Lucy?
He straightened his shoulders. He needed to keep Lucy his priority as well and not get distracted by those lovely blue eyes. “Very well, Miss Barrett. Thank you for clarifying your expectations.”
She lifted a hand to brush her hair from her face, and her lashes fanned against her cheek as she looked to the ground. “Will we see you tomorrow, Captain Sterling?”
“Yes, I’ll be by to visit Lucy.”
“Very well. Thank you for sharing your carriage.”
She stepped toward the door, and he followed her. She stopped and looked back at him. “What are you doing?”
What did she think he was doing? “I’m coming in.”
“Why?”
Why? Had she forgotten that just a few hours earlier Edward Littleton had paced these very halls? He wasn’t about to take the chance that he was inside, waiting for her to return. “I need to make sure Littleton’s gone.”
She looked toward the window. “Everything appears to be dark, and the hour is late. Surely he has departed.”
“But I don’t think—”
She raised her hand to silence him. “Allow me to be perfectly clear, Captain Sterling. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, but I can handle myself.”
He had no idea how to answer that. So he just said, “Very well, Miss Barrett.”
She turned, her face impassive, and disappeared inside. James closed the door behind her.
Graham stared at the empty space where she had been.
What just happened?
He turned to the carriage, unlatched the door, and climbed inside. He yanked the door closed behind him and dropped against the tufted leather seat.
He didn’t look at Carrington nor did he wish to talk about it. But the weight of the older man’s eyes bored into him. He glanced up.
A smirk crept across Carrington’s withered face. “Don’t worry, she’ll come around.”
Amelia brushed the snow from her cape and leaned her back against the closed door. She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled in a slow, steady stream. She had not meant to speak so harshly. And if she’d had any hope at all of a romantic future with her husband, no doubt her words, spoken in the heat of embarrassment, had squelched that hope.
She opened her eyes to see James standing next to her with a lit candlestick. “Shall I send up Elizabeth, miss?”
“Yes, please.” Amelia handed him her cape and took the candle. “But tell her to take her time. I am going to go see Miss Lucy for a few moments.”
“Very well, Miss Barrett.”
Amelia followed the aging man with her eyes as he withdrew down the corridor. When he was gone, eerie silence settled over the house. To her left was the window. Craning her neck, she watched the carriage disappear into the darkness. Her chin shook, and as hard as she tried to steady her hand, the candle trembled in her grip. Her arrangement with Captain Sterling had seemed so simple when first conceived. Now nothing was simple about it.
As she turned, light seeping under the closed door to her uncle’s study caught her eye. Was Uncle George still awake?