to do with the kidnapping. But what if he was just covering his tracks? How could Graham be sure? His normally sharp senses, his keen eye of discernment, seemed muddled.
His candid talk with Sulter flashed in his mind. God had forgiven him for a much more grievous lapse in judgment. Could he not manage the same for his brother? He breathed an awkward prayer. Perhaps William’s return was the answer in disguise.
Graham folded his arms across his chest, his voice low. “The ransom note instructs us to meet at George’s Dock. I’ve engaged the services of a dockworker who has agreed to assist us as needed.”
“Well then, I am at your service as well. Give me a task. I saw Littleton last night at the inn, but he was headed in the opposite—”
“Wait.” Graham held up his hand to stop his brother. “Littleton, you say?”
William’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, Littleton. I saw him last night and I—”
“Where?”
William’s forehead furrowed. “He was outside the inn with a group of men. I assumed he— Wait, did he not journey to Liverpool with you?”
“No. You are certain it was him?”
“Certainly.” For once William appeared completely sober.
Graham would not waste time. “Show me exactly where you saw him.”
Amelia could not sit still. One more minute spent trapped amidst the silence of the Sulters’ parlor and the cage of her own fear and she’d most assuredly go mad. How she wanted to be a help in finding Lucy. To be useful. But here she sat. Waiting.
Next to her Jane mended her shawl, which she’d torn climbing down from the carriage at the Eagledale Inn. Amelia had tried to read but found concentrating impossible. How could Jane be so calm when such uncertainty swirled in the air?
The clock’s incessant ticking drove her to distraction. Eleven o’clock in the morning. Her toe tapped against the rough wood floor. She wanted Lucy in her arms. She wanted to become Graham Sterling’s wife. And she wanted it all now.
Noise in the hall caught Amelia’s attention, and she arched her neck to see through the low framed door. Becky, the Sulters’ oldest daughter, appeared in the narrow corridor, pulling a dark blue pelisse over her woolen dress.
Amelia straightened. “Are you leaving, Miss Sulter?”
Becky jerked her head up, as if surprised by the question, and nodded. “Indeed. Mother is sending me to the market.”
Amelia’s heart leaped. Finally, an opportunity! “You do not mind a bit of company, do you? I’m aching to be out of doors.”
Jane’s protest was immediate. “Captain Sterling asked you to stay here. I think you should respect his request.”
Amelia grabbed her cloak and flung it about her shoulders. “We’ll only be gone a short time. No harm will come from it, you will see. Please, Jane, I cannot just sit here and wait. I need to do something.”
Without waiting for a response, Amelia donned her own bonnet. She looped the gray satin ribbon into a bow beneath her chin, then hurried to open the front door. A stunned Becky grabbed a small basket from next to the door and followed Amelia down a narrow lane and out to the busy street.
Amelia looked around from side to side as they walked, soaking in the activity around her. Carts jostled over cobbled roads. Children in tattered coats of gray and brown darted to and fro. She sidestepped to miss crates and coils of rope. Men and women of every class bustled about, carrying packs or selling wares. So different this place was from quiet Darbury. She scanned the narrow row of shops. The answer to finding Lucy had to be here.
She paid little attention to Becky’s friendly chatter. Instead she searched each face as if it might possess a clue to finding Lucy. Elderly women, young men, soldiers and sailors in uniform—any one of them could know something that would help their efforts.
They reached the market, where Becky bought carrots and cabbage from a merchant’s cart. Amelia had never been in such a bustling place. Wares hung from an assortment of rickety carts outside more permanent shops. Long leather leads tethered sheep and goats to makeshift fences. Shoppers jostled one another and stopped to haggle over merchandise. Horses and carriages rumbled by on the cobbled road, lined with tall warehouses, that wound toward the river. The wind carried scents of smoke and meat and river and sea.
When Becky stepped inside the butcher’s shop, Amelia opted to remain out of doors. She walked to the building’s edge and paced the