The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,8

my Saviour. My sadness lies in the fact that I shall never see you again nor live to see our daughter grow and thrive.

I have named the child Lucille Katherine Sterling and left her in Miss Amelia Barrett’s care. Miss Barrett has been a loving friend to me since I came to Darbury and will ensure the child is raised in the ways of God. She will love our daughter, of this I am certain.

I admit to sorrow that our time together was so brief. But this I tell you truly: I have loved you as much as any wife could love her husband, and my sincerest wish is for your happiness. Do not let your heart grow cold. Open it to loving our child, and if the Lord brings you love again, do not hesitate on my account.

Grieve not for me, my dearest, for when you read this I will be amongst angels.

All my love, Katherine

Guilt weakened his arms. He lowered the letter and stared at the engraved stone slab. Had he really been so naive as to think he could be a husband? He was a naval captain, dedicated to his ship, bound to his crew, and sworn to serve the Crown. But now the sea seemed so very far away, and long-suppressed thoughts clouded his mind. Had he even realized how precious Katherine’s love had been? He should have told her when he had the chance.

But now it was too late.

He folded the letter and tucked it away for safekeeping. Katherine’s wishes seemed clear. She had wanted Amelia Barrett to care for the child while he was gone. But in order for that to happen, he would have to marry Miss Barrett.

Blast if he was going to make the same mistake twice.

Graham leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and stared at his brother. William Sterling fumbled with the trigger on a pistol, attempting to polish gunpowder residue from the engraved casing. When Graham could stand it no further, he pushed himself up from the chair and stood to his full height.

“Who in blazes taught you to clean a pistol?” Graham snatched the weapon with one hand and the polishing cloth with the other. “At the rate you’re going, this will take you the entire day.”

William leaned back and balanced on the back two legs of the carved chair. “Ah, the great sea captain believes his weaponry skills are superior to those of his simpleton brother. You know I’ve always preferred horses to firearms. Annoyed Father no end.”

Graham ignored his brother’s taunt and turned the pistol over in his hand to examine the weapon’s fine craftsmanship. Smudges of gunpowder provided evidence of recent use. He closed one eye and looked down the pistol’s barrel, checking its straightness. “Where’d you get this?”

“Fine, isn’t it?” William dropped the chair to its normal position and stood next to his brother. “Father bought it off a Frenchman. Not very patriotic, if you ask me.”

Graham looked up from the pistol and studied the gilded portrait of their father hanging between two narrow windows. Even allowing for the difference in their builds, the resemblance between William and their late father was uncanny. Same cleft chin. Same sandy hair. Same light eyes, with a hint of mockery.

Graham sat down and began to polish the pistol. “Like this, see?”

William leaned over his shoulder. “I suppose you have use for a clean weapon in your line of employment, eh?”

“Indeed.”

William laughed a deep, hearty laugh and slapped Graham’s shoulder. “Good to have you home, Graham. How long has it been since you’ve been at Eastmore Hall? Fifteen years or better?”

“Eighteen.” Graham could have told him the exact number of months, but he doubted William would care. Very few of those months had been spent on land. The sea had been his home for nearly all of his youth and into his manhood, and it wasn’t until he achieved the rank of captain a few years back that he’d returned to England for any length of time. That was when he traveled to Plymouth to take command of the ship he’d been assigned—and when he met Katherine. Even now, though the Miracle had only been docked in Plymouth for a week, his life at sea seemed a thousand miles away.

He glanced up at his brother. “Place looks the same, mostly.”

“Never changes.” William flopped down into a wingback chair and propped his pointed boots up on the edge of a nearby mahogany desk. “Dull as tombs around here,