The Heiress of Winterwood (13 page)

Graham’s chest tightened. The babe did not yet recognize him as her father. The reception she’d given him during his last visit to Winterwood was evidence of that. But perhaps over time she would grow to accept him, perhaps even love him.

He should have been listening to the homily, but his eyes drifted to Miss Barrett’s face. He studied the creamy smoothness of her skin, the becoming slope of her narrow nose, and the luster of the golden curls that framed her face. A gown of buff cambric with a gossamer overlay hugged her shoulders, and a lace chemisette gathered at her neck. Her startling bright eyes were fixed firmly on the vicar. She was a beautiful woman indeed.

Not wishing to be caught in his stare, he returned his attention to the vicar as well. Graham had arrived late and barely made it to his family’s pew before the sermon started. Miss Barrett had nodded a greeting, but no smile had curved her lips, no warmth had lit her eyes.

How would she react to the letter?

He pulled out Miss Barrett’s book of Psalms from his breast pocket and set it on the pew. He slipped his finger under the cover
and flipped it open, making sure his letter was still tucked inside. He would give her the book after the service, and then what would be would be.

After the dismissal, Graham stood up quickly to leave, but two elderly ladies who had been friends with his mother wanted to speak to him. By the time he said good-bye, the Barretts were gone. He wove through the pews and then, once outside, the headstones, his boots sinking into the soft turf as he hurried to catch up. Miss Barrett’s back was to him, and Lucy, now awake, eyed him warily over her guardian’s shoulder. Graham believed he saw a flash of recognition in the child’s eyes, and she waved a fist in the air. At Lucy’s movement, Miss Barrett turned around, her expression unreadable.

“Captain Sterling.”

Graham bowed to the women and nodded at Mr. Barrett. “I see Lucy is well.”

“Indeed.” Amelia adjusted the child on her hip.

Graham extended a hand toward the child and caressed her cheek with his fingers. She smiled at him, giggled, and buried her face into Miss Barrett’s neck.

Suddenly aware of all the Barrett eyes on him, he pulled the book from his pocket.

“My Psalms!” Miss Barrett’s countenance lightened, and she adjusted Lucy in her arms before reaching for it. “I have looked everywhere for this! Wherever did you find it?”

“Next to Katherine’s grave. Your name is written in it.”

She rewarded him with a smile. “Thank you for returning it. This was my mother’s. I would have missed it profoundly.”

An awkward pause followed her words, and he shifted his hat from one hand to the other. “Well then, I shall be by for a visit tomorrow. If that is agreeable to you, of course.”

He bowed, smiled at Lucy, replaced his hat, and turned back down the pebble path.

Would she notice his note tucked in the book? He had no way to know. But if all went well, he would not have to wait long to find out.

Amelia peered out through the carriage’s clear pane as Captain Sterling’s tall form cut through the cemetery toward Darbury’s main road. She’d been surprised to see him at church. His brother never attended services. She’d assumed that the captain held similar views.

Even more surprising, despite her lingering anger over his plan to remove Lucy from Winterwood, was the peculiar quivering of her heart. Part of her wanted to call out to him, “Wait! Do not go!” But a curious peace settled over her as the memory of her brief prayer the previous night filled her mind.

Her aunt’s commentary on Mrs. Mill’s Sunday attire filled the carriage on the short ride back to Winterwood Manor. Rain now fell in waves and pounded the sides of the carriage. She and Lucy had nearly pitched forward out of her seat when the storm hit and a gust of wind slammed the back of the carriage. But the rest of the ride proved uneventful. Lucy slumped comfortably against her arm while Amelia thumbed through the pages of the book of Psalms, happy to have her treasured item back. But as she did, her finger caught on something. Tucked among the pages was a folded piece of parchment.

A letter! Amelia snapped the book shut. She cast a glance to her cousin and then her aunt to see if anyone had noticed. Her ears rang. Her pulse raced.

The carriage drew to a painfully slow halt in front of Winterwood. Amelia muttered something about delivering Lucy to Mrs. Dunne, and once she had done so, hurried to her bedchamber. She flung the door closed behind her and dropped to the bed.
Her fingers, cold and shaking, couldn’t work fast enough as she broke the seal and devoured the words.

Dear Miss Barrett,

Forgive my indiscretion. I must speak with you privately. Please do me the honor of meeting with me at the Sterling cemetery Sunday evening at dusk.

Respectfully, Graham Sterling

Amelia’s mind reeled as she dropped the letter to her lap. No real gentleman would dare invite a woman to a private location unchaperoned. She caught her breath. Unless, that is, he had decided to accept her offer.

Anticipation swelled within her. Could this be an answer to her feeble little prayer? She swung around her room in a sudden burst of energy as every possible scenario flew through her mind. What if Captain Sterling had found another home for Lucy and wanted to tell her in person. What if he was taking Lucy with him to Plymouth? Amelia stared at the letter for so long that his strokes no longer made sense. The words were just scratches, their fine lines and marks nothing more than the drag of a quill over the rough paper.

The hours before sunset crept by at an eternity’s pace. Amelia sought amusement, but the tasks that typically would bring distraction—reading, watercolor, needlework—failed to hold her attention. Even playing with Lucy failed to calm her restlessness. While the baby napped, she had walked through Winterwood’s dormant gardens, glad for the solitude they afforded her.

Finally the sun peeked from behind parting clouds and began its descent behind the moors, and mauve streaks painted the evening sky. If she intended to meet the captain, now was the time to take her leave.

Calm. She must stay calm. She pulled a heavy burgundy cape from her wardrobe and paused at the looking glass. She smoothed her hair and pinched her cheeks, then stopped short when she noticed her father’s Bible still lying on her desk.

She couldn’t deny the irony. Last night she had lain on her bed, all hope gone. She had cried out to God, and today hope had returned.

She hesitated. It could be coincidence. Or it could be something more.

She dragged her fingertip over the Bible’s worn cover. What if God said no?

But what if he said yes?

She let the cape fall to the bed. Today’s prayer came more easily than last night’s.
God, I felt your peace today. My faith lacks strength. I fear it may never be like Jane’s or Katherine’s. But I would like to try. Please help me learn to lean on you. To trust in your plan, and not my own.

B
lack trees lined the east meadow, separating it from the Sterling cemetery. Their gnarled limbs, like bony fingers, reached into swirling fog. Wind whistled through their bare branches, urging Amelia on. Moisture dripped down from the branches and soaked the hem of her gown. She clutched her cape and squinted into the deepening darkness, keeping close to the tree line.

Upon reaching the cemetery gate, Amelia paused to make sure no one watched her, then pushed her way through the entrance. She spotted the captain immediately, sitting on the bench next to Katherine’s grave. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and even through the bulkiness of his greatcoat, his shoulders created a strong silhouette.

“Miss Barrett.” He jumped to his feet and swept his hat from his head.

Had shadows not hidden his features, she might not have noticed the rich timbre to his voice. Scents of sandalwood and leather surrounded him. “Captain.”

He motioned for her to sit. “Thank you for meeting me. I know these circumstances are unusual. Forgive me.”

Amelia lifted the hood from her head and let it fall back against her cape. “It could not be helped, Captain. I was most grateful to receive your message.”

She waited for him to speak, straining to hear above the whistling wind and the wild pulsing of her heart.

“I need to speak with you about Lucy.” Captain Sterling sat down beside her. “I have decided where she will live when I return to my duties.”

Amelia held her breath.

He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at her with intense gray eyes. “She must live with you.”

Had she heard him correctly? “Are you saying—”

He lifted a gloved hand. “Before we go any further, I need to know that you fully understand the implications.”

“What do you mean?”

He tented his fingers and stared at them. “Your uncle is a proud man, Miss Barrett. Have you considered the consequences of going against his wishes?”

She lowered her gaze, now grateful for the darkness.

He continued, his voice low. “I don’t mean to upset you, but I must, in good conscience, advise you to consider all outcomes. I must leave in a few weeks. You will be on your own to deal with any repercussions at Winterwood.”

She chose her words thoughtfully. “You must believe me that I have played this out in my mind many times. I certainly do not anticipate an easy transition. My uncle, no doubt, wishes to maintain some control of my inheritance. I imagine my aunt is more concerned with what damage this might do to Helena’s chances of finding a suitable match than with my happiness. So I do not doubt there will be uncomfortable moments between us, but I believe
they will come around in time. They are, after all, my family, and Helena and I have been like sisters.”

He stepped closer to the bench, rolling his hat in his hands. “It’s not just your family, Miss Barrett. Edward Littleton is a volatile man. Are you prepared for his reaction?”

Amelia drew an unsteady breath. This, indeed, was what concerned her most. She’d once believed, despite Edward’s ambition and his unpredictability, that he was a kindhearted man. Only recently had she seen his cruel side, his selfish disregard for anyone’s desires but his own.

A sharp wind gust swept in, catching the folds of her cape in its billows. She settled her cape and wrapped it tightly. “I thought that Edward Littleton loved me, but time has opened my eyes to his true motivations. My inheritance, Captain Sterling, is no secret. Edward will be livid, to be sure, if I break our engagement, but it will be because he lost money, not because he lost me. And to answer your question, I do fear his reaction, initially at least, but he is a proud man. I believe, knowing Edward’s nature as I do, that he will prefer to avoid scandal and will not publicize the news.”

Captain Sterling studied her face. His presence did not unnerve her as it once did. But even under the cover of darkness, she feared too many of her thoughts would write themselves on her expression.

He sat down next to her on the bench, so close she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “And the money?”

Reality returned with a vengeance. The money. “What of it?”

“If we proceed with this course of action, I am well aware of what will be said. But let it be known that I do not need your money, nor do I desire the trials that can accompany a large fortune.” He lowered his voice. “I do not tell you this out of pride, Miss Barrett. My profession is a dangerous one. I may very well leave Darbury and never return, so I need to know my daughter will be cared for.
That she will be loved. I trust you in this regard, but it is important that you trust me in return. Your money is yours. I will not touch it. Just care for my daughter.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Had she heard him correctly? For as long as she could remember, she’d been told her fortune was the key to finding a suitable match. She could only mutter, “Thank you.”

He stood up from the bench and looked at her for a long moment. She shifted under the weight of his stare. A smile finally crossed his face.

“Well then.” Captain Sterling knelt and picked up her hand from her lap. She jumped at the intimacy of the touch.