The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,85

after Katherine’s death—or to marry another woman and promptly leave her as he had left Katherine? Guilt, swift and sure, swept its familiar pall over him. How long would he fight this battle between the past and his future?

He stood abruptly, realizing he could no longer afford the luxury of regret. Time was short. He had work to do. And a good captain always kept his priorities straight.

Priority one: Retrieve Lucy at any cost. Priority two: Make Amelia want to marry him, for more than just Lucy’s sake. Because the longer this intricate dance continued, the more certain he became: Amelia Barrett needed to become Amelia Sterling.

He removed his waistcoat and slung it over the back of the chair. In a bag next to the fireplace were the clean linens that Amelia insisted they bring. Looking down at the rumpled bed, he was grateful for her insistence. He folded the fresh-smelling pillow under his head, stretched out on the smooth sheet, and covered himself with the wool blanket. He stared into the fire. It had been awhile since a prayer passed his lips, but he couldn’t help the one that came upon him instinctively.

Dear Father, I don’t deserve Lucy, and I don’t deserve Amelia. But if it be your will, deliver them both to me.

Amelia had no idea if twenty minutes or two hours had passed. She lay on the lumpy bed, trying to ignore the straw poking through the rough canvas, and curled close against Jane in an attempt to keep warm. The tattered curtains hanging at the window blocked light from the lanterns in the courtyard below, but they did little to suppress the raucous sounds coming from the pub next door. Somehow she’d managed to sleep in the carriage despite the rough roads and wild winds. Now, when sleep should arrive, it refused to come.

She looked over at Jane, whose slender form sank into the mattress. The fire illuminated the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders under their brought-from-home blankets. As softly as she could, Amelia pushed herself from the bed and stood.

The pitiful fire did little to fight the chill in the room. Shivering, she reached for her cape, pulled it from the hook, and drew it tightly around her shoulders. With soft steps she inched close to the fire grate and poked futilely at the coals. Giving up, she sat on the rough wood floor, tucked her knees to her chest, and leaned her head on them, her mind, as ever, on Lucy.

Where was she tonight? What had happened to her? Possibility after possibility commandeered Amelia’s mind, each scenario more terrifying than the last. She reviewed everything she knew, trying to figure out who could be responsible.

William Sterling had been angry with the captain, and he was known as a drinker and a gambler. According to what she overheard at the Hammonds’, he was in debt and short of funds. But surely the man would not kidnap his own niece.

Would he?

Then there was Edward. Could he be guilty of such a cruel, devious act? Until recently, she would not have thought it possible. Now she was not so sure. But Edward had been present for the entire episode, even assisting with the search efforts.

And then, she had to acknowledge, there was an entire world she knew little about. Graham’s world. A mysterious world of ships and warfare. Could he have enemies? Could there be others wishing to do the Sterlings harm?

Footsteps from the room above them drew Amelia’s attention. Graham’s room. Heavy boots paced from one end of the room to the other and back again. She’d been so engrossed in her own pain, concerned with her own plans, that she had not stopped to consider how he must feel. Her own pain at losing Katherine was great, and her fear of losing Lucy was intense. But he was Katherine’s husband, Lucy’s father. Back and forth he paced. He was so close, only a few wooden planks above her.

A rustling from the bed drew Amelia from her reverie. “What are you doing?”

Amelia sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to wake you. I was cold.”

Jane sat up and swung her legs over the side of the low bed. “This has to be the draftiest room I ever set foot in. Thank heavens we shall only be here one night.” She reached down to pull on her slippers.

“I hope Lucy and Mrs. Dunne are in a better place than this. I