The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,89

from Mrs. Sulter to her husband.

“Don’t worry, Graham.” Stephen stepped forward. “This isn’t the first pickle you and I have found ourselves in. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Amelia ducked her head out of the carriage in front of the Sulter home.

Today was to be my wedding day.

She looked behind her at the thoroughfare they had just departed. Carts darted to and fro, and seagulls swooped from the heavens. On the opposite side stood the docks, and beyond them, a broad river that just as well could be the sea. Men rushed about amid a tangle of ropes. The scents of salt and fish rode in on the nippy breeze, so different than the earthy moorland scents of Darbury.

And Lucy could be anywhere amidst the bustle.

Amelia drummed her fingertips on the leather seat. When will we begin searching? Graham stood talking to an older man and an animated, dark-haired woman. What were they talking about? Lucy? Her? She was in no mood for conversation.

Graham strode up to the post chaise. “We’ve arrived.”

Today was my wedding day, and Graham should be helping me out of the carriage and into our home with Lucy at Winterwood Manor, not a stranger’s house in an unfamiliar town.

Amelia forced a smile and looked over at Jane before placing her hand in his. Her feet touched the ground, and cool air swirled her skirts around her wool stockings and half boots. An unexpected thrill shot through her as Graham took her hand and looped it around the crook of his arm. The protective act of familiarity warmed her heart, but the emotion was quickly dampened at the memory of why they were here.

The timbre of Graham’s voice was rich and confident as they approached the tall man and his wife. “Mrs. Sulter, Captain, I would like for you to meet my betrothed, Miss Amelia Barrett of Winterwood Manor in Darbury.”

Captain Sulter bowed. “Welcome to our home, Miss Barrett.”

Mary Sulter clasped her hands in front of her. “Welcome to our home, indeed! What a beauty you have found, Captain Sterling.” She stepped forward and gathered Amelia’s hands in her own. “Captain Sterling is dear to our family, dear, indeed. What a pleasure it is to have you here with us.”

The hearty welcome nearly overwhelmed Amelia. Mrs. Sulter chattered on, and Amelia smiled, nodded, and stepped closer to Graham to make room for Jane to step forward and be introduced. As she did, she glanced up at Graham . . . and couldn’t help staring. His expression was softer than she had seen it since the party at the Hammonds’.

Why now, in the middle of a strange street, in front of strangers, and in tragic circumstances, should she be struck by Graham’s smile? The firm set of his square jaw had slacked and the hint of a smile curved his lips. Something was different about it—about him—today. Is this Graham’s demeanor in the presence of friends?

He’d shown her a hint of this unguarded freedom, this easiness of spirit, in the fleeting moments when she imagined a romance between the two of them. But here, in this company, he seemed to share it freely, even in the midst of fear and uncertainty.

A group of young adults gathered at the home’s modest threshold. They had to be the Sulters’ children. The two taller young men stepped forward to help with the luggage. Two young women, one of whom could not be much younger than Amelia, scrambled out of the way as their mother ushered the group inside.

Graham put his hand on the small of Amelia’s back. Optimism flicked in his steel-gray eyes, and his warm whisper tickled her ear. “We’re close, Amelia. We’ll find her shortly, mark my words.”

Graham watched as Mary Sulter escorted Amelia and Mrs. Hammond down a narrow corridor to the bedchamber they would share. Then he turned his attention back to Stephen Sulter, who was dropping a seasoned log on the fire.

Sulter watched his two oldest boys leave the room and shook his head. “Rowdy bunch, they are. Too much like me and not enough like their mother, to be sure.” He turned to Graham, his smile fading from amusement to genuine concern. “Don’t worry, Graham. We’ll find your daughter.” He sat in a worn chair and leaned forward. “Tell me everything you know.”

Graham moved over to the window and glanced at the busy street below before turning back to face Stephen. Where to start this nightmare of a story? Should he start at the beginning, with