The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,9

most of the time.”

Graham surveyed the room. The heavy, crimson curtains still flanked the tall casement windows, and family portraits of all sizes still adorned the cream-and-gold foliage-patterned walls. The only notable difference was the absence of his mother’s portrait, which in his childhood had hung to the left of the intricate stone fireplace.

Graham nodded toward the empty space. “Where is Mother’s portrait?”

“Father had it moved to the drawing room.” William leaned his head back and folded his hands on his chest. “Why did you not return to Eastmore when you were last in England? I did not even hear of your marriage until that wife of yours arrived at Moreton Cottage. Quite a surprise, that was.”

Graham stiffened at the comment. He didn’t want to talk about Katherine, especially not with William. Their courtship had been swift and intense, the wedding quite sudden. No doubt, he should have notified his brother, his only living relative, of the union. But so many years had passed since he and his brother had spoken. Even their letters had become nothing more than a yearly update, and he’d found himself reluctant to share something so personal as his marriage in such a missive. He’d never imagined that Katherine would travel to Moreton Cottage alone and meet William without his being present to make introductions.

With all that in mind, he supposed he did owe his brother an explanation. Moreton Cottage belonged to Graham, of course, his only inheritance from the vast estate. All other assets had transferred to his brother upon his father’s death. Still, it must have been a shock when she appeared, two servants in tow.

“I assure you, Katherine’s move to Darbury surprised me as well. I met her in Plymouth when I returned to England to assume command of the Miracle, and we married shortly thereafter. When my ship sailed, the plan was for her to remain in Plymouth with her mother. But apparently her mother died unexpectedly, so Katherine left the coast to set up housekeeping at Moreton Cottage. By the time I heard of it, I was in Halifax.”

“Halifax—in Nova Scotia, right? I had wondered where you might be now, with that rogue Napoleon finally in exile.”

Graham shook his head. “Even with Napoleon conquered, brother, we are still at war, and I’ve got a battered ship to prove it.”

As if poking a festering wound, his brother’s questions continued. “What happened to your ship?”

Graham considered exactly how much to reveal. He scratched his forehead and rubbed his hand down his face before speaking. “It was a close-range battle with an American frigate. We sustained substantial damage but prevailed and sailed back to Halifax for repairs. But the resources there were sorely depleted. That is why we have returned to England. As soon as the repairs are complete in Plymouth, we will return to Halifax.”

William nodded toward the scar covering Graham’s hand. “The battle—so that is how you were . . .”

Graham followed William’s gaze, then sucked in a breath. “No.”

He said no more. William evidently understood, for he changed the subject. “What of your visit to Winterwood? They say George Barrett is in Leeds, due back tomorrow.”

Graham held the pistol up to the fire’s light to check his work, then resumed polishing. “I saw Miss Barrett and my Lucy, no one else.”

“Ah, yes, my pretty little niece and her even prettier guardian.” William removed his feet from the desk and sat up straight. “I must confess to some relief that Miss Barrett insisted on caring for your daughter. The situation seemed far more suitable, although of course I have tried—”

“No need for an explanation.” Graham waved his hand in dismissal. “Miss Barrett seems an ideal caretaker. In fact, I have arranged for Lucy to remain at Winterwood until I can make other arrangements.”

William chuckled and leaned with his forearm on his knee. “Speaking of Winterwood, do you recall how, when we were children, we would climb the stone wall separating Eastmore’s south field into Winterwood’s orchard and steal apples?”

Graham paused. A cloudy vision of himself and William climbing the gnarled elm materialized in his mind, but he could not recall an apple orchard—or climbing a wall with his brother, for that matter. “No.”

William studied the toe of his boot. “I suppose that is what happens when one is out in the world, having adventures and sailing the seas.” William’s words grew pensive. “One forgets the happenings of sleepy country life.”

Graham rested the clean pistol on his leg. Was that what William