by Sarah Ladd
Aunt Augusta’s lips quivered with anger. “I am grateful for one thing and one thing alone. Praise the Almighty that your father is not alive to see the type of person you have become.”
Those words stung more than Amelia cared to admit. What would her father think of this?
Her aunt’s rant continued. “Regardless of whom you have so recklessly decided to marry, the sooner you are no longer a part of the Barrett family, the better.”
Amelia forced her expression to remain stoic. She would not allow Aunt Augusta the satisfaction of seeing any emotion. If she allowed herself to become flustered, she might lose her composure when speaking with Edward.
“And look at the state of you, Amelia.” Her aunt’s gaze raked down the front of Amelia’s gown. “What have you been doing?”
Amelia searched for an excuse, but none came. How could she admit that she had slipped in the mud to beg assistance of the stable boy?
Her aunt didn’t wait for an explanation. “Well, you can’t see Edward dressed like that. Heaven already knows what the man thinks.” Her voice echoed flat. “Change your gown quickly, then come downstairs. You have some explaining to do.”
A welcome silence settled over the room with her aunt’s departure, and Amelia turned to the wardrobe to get a clean dress. When she turned back around, Helena stood in the empty space where her mother had been. Without a word, the younger cousin stepped forward to unbutton Amelia’s soiled dress. Even with only the light from a single flickering candle, Amelia interpreted the sorrow on Helena’s face.
As girls, Helena and Amelia had been inseparable. They had shared a governess, shared secrets, shared each other’s company. Only in the last year had their relationship changed, for reasons Amelia still did not completely understand. “Please, Helena,” she whispered, “don’t hate me.”
Helena buttoned the last button and rested her hand on Amelia’s trembling shoulders. “I don’t hate you.” Emotion hung in her voice. “I don’t understand you, but I could never hate you. Just remember, Cousin, that what we think we want may not always be best.”
Helena offered a weak smile and stepped toward the door. Not convinced it would help ease the situation, Amelia breathed a desperate prayer, hoping that by some miracle she would find the right words to say to Edward.
“Fear not. I am with you.”
Amelia’s head jerked up. “What did you say?”
Confusion clouded Helena’s features. “I didn’t say anything. You’d better hurry. Mother is furious.”
Amelia smoothed her dress and ran shaky fingers through her tangled hair. Her gaze landed on the Bible on her bedside table. Could it be?
“I am with you.”
Helena squeezed Amelia’s hand as they descended the wide staircase. Below them, Amelia could hear her uncle and Edward speaking, but at least they were no longer shouting.
Amelia willed herself not to buckle under her mounting fear of what Edward was capable of. She was resolved in her decision and would not waver, but confidence in her ability to convince anyone in her family had waned. She could no longer rely on their support.
She breathed a prayer, then repeated it, desperate to believe God would answer. And in spite of her uncertainty, she felt her tense muscles relax. She lifted her chin, feeling stronger and more determined than she had in days.
Flickering light spilled from her uncle’s study. Moving figures within the room cast animated shadows on the oak floor of the vestibule. She paused and listened.
Edward’s voice reached her ear first. “What of Winterwood, then? Surely there is something to be done.”
Her uncle’s hushed response echoed from the stone walls. “Legally, everything—the land, the assets—will all be in her husband’s name once she marries. Up until now I’ve barely been able to buy a horse without running it through Carrington.”
“But Carrington’s gone now. Remember?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s an issue of how the will was written. My brother may have been an impudent fool, but he rarely missed a trick where business was concerned. How do you think he amassed all this property?”
“That notwithstanding, we need the funds. Surely something can be done.”
“If she decides to marry someone else, there is nothing that I—we—can do to prevent her from doing so.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Something can always be done. We just need to make certain that she doesn’t marry anyone else. Then our problems are solved. Am I correct?”
Helena and Amelia exchanged glances and tiptoed to the threshold. Helena whispered in her ear, “What are they talking about?”
“My inheritance.”
“Your inheritance? But I thought . . .” Helena’s voice trailed off.
Helena’s naïveté baffled Amelia. How could such a clever woman not see the clearest deception right in front of her? “I have been trying to tell you. Edward does not love me, Helena. He desires only Winterwood and the fortune that accompanies it.”
“I think—” Helena’s foot caught the leg of a side table and scooted it across the floor. The resulting sound ricocheted, and the voices inside the study halted. Helena’s eyes grew wide, and her hand slapped over her mouth.
In a split second Uncle George appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a crimson dressing gown. His angry eyes flicked from his niece to his daughter, then back to his niece.
“I’ve underestimated you, Niece.” He nodded toward the library, his voice devoid of any fatherly affection. “There is someone here who wishes to speak with you.”
The room’s stifling heat slapped her as she stepped in.
Edward stood in front of the roaring fireplace, broad shoulders silhouetted against the flames. His dark eyes locked on hers.
Amelia drew closer and prepared herself for battle. The scent of damp horse and the outdoors clung to Edward’s person and prickled her nostrils. She mustered every ounce of energy to combat the desire to shrink away. She knew Edward’s game of intimidation all too well, but this would be the last time she’d have to endure it.
His deep voice pierced the silence, and he pulled at his disheveled cravat as if it were a noose. “I’m desperately waiting for you, dear Amelia, to tell me there’s been some mistake.”
Amelia lowered her chin but refused to break eye contact. “I cannot.”
Edward’s face reddened. “When exactly were you planning to inform me of your change of heart? After all, our wedding is—should have been—just weeks away. So when? A week before? The day before?”
His tone sliced her confidence. She squared her shoulders and straightened as tall as her frame would allow. “This happened suddenly. I did not intend to deceive you.”
A snide chuckle escaped him before he released his words through gritted teeth. “Imagine my surprise, my utter humiliation, when I went to apply for the license, only to be told by the snit of a clerk that my intended’s name is already on a license.” His words climbed to a shout. “With another man’s name!”
Amelia’s chest burned. Every breath felt shallower than the last. She cast a nervous glance at her aunt and uncle, for once grateful for their presence. “You must know within yourself that this marriage would have been a mistake, and I—”
His cry cut her off. “A mistake? I love you, Amelia. There is no mistaking that. My love has not wavered. What a fool I must be! All this time, these many months, I believed you returned my affection. And now I find you have deceived me in the most debased manner!”
Amelia squelched a stirring of guilt. She had given Edward repeated opportunities. His utter disregard for her concerns had left her no choice. She would not apologize for her actions. “I have told you from Lucy’s birth that I intended to raise her. I made this abundantly clear, have I not? I will not allow that child, whom I love like my own, to be raised without a mother. Furthermore, it has become evident that your interest is in Winterwood, not me. I could never be happy married to a man who used me for my father’s fortune.”
“And you think this sea captain person has any other designs on you besides your fortune?” Edward’s shouts echoed from the plastered walls. “Wake up, Amelia! He is using you in a most obvious fashion.” He rushed forward, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to him with such fervor she almost lost her footing. “I want to protect you, Amelia. To give you my love. Why are you turning it away?”
His hands threatened to crush hers. He stood so close that his breath, laced with the ever-present scent of alcohol, grazed her cheek. Her strength faltered under Edward’s overwhelming presence, and she fought the overwhelming urge to flee. She needed to stay calm, to fight the runaway beating of her heart, to remember why she was doing this.
Lucy.
A wild, frantic prayer raced through her mind. Days ago she’d felt God’s presence. Mere minutes ago she’d thought she heard him speak. Would he help her now?
And where was Captain Sterling?
Graham climbed the stairs to Winterwood Manor with one goal: to rid it of Edward Littleton.
He should have arrived earlier. But dark clouds blotted out the moon’s faint light, forcing him to rely on a newly sober William to show him the shortcut through Sterling Wood. Graham hated to rely on anyone. But his brother’s help would make it possible for him to deal with Edward Littleton once and for all.
Graham reached the top of the stairs and grabbed for the iron handle on the massive wooden door.
“Wait!”
Annoyed with the further delay, Graham stopped at the sound of William’s voice. His brother was fumbling with the horses’ reins, attempting to tether the animals to a post. “You want this beast of yours to wander off? Where are the stable boys, anyway?”
“I’ve no idea. Hurry it up, will you?”
William tested the tether on No-Name before jumping up the stairs. “You have a plan, I assume?”
“No.” Graham stepped through the main entrance into the darkened vestibule. Heated voices echoed on the stone walls and plaster ceilings. James and a footman hovered in a corner as if unsure what their duties were in such a circumstance. Littleton’s angry shouts thundered above all.
William grabbed Graham’s arm and pulled it back. “Whoa, whoa. Will you stop? Listen to him. He’s mad as blazes!”
Graham returned the whisper. “Just stay quiet.” He swept his hat from his head, tossed it in James’s direction, and stepped through the library’s threshold. William trailed closely.
A red-faced George Barrett came into view first, then his wife and daughter. Graham scanned the room for Miss Barrett and found her standing too close to Littleton. His breath caught at the sight of her. Never before had he seen Miss Barrett with her golden hair loose, blanketing her shoulders. He did not like the fearful expression on his intended’s—Amelia’s—face.
Graham forced his eyes away from her and onto Littleton. He assessed him as one preparing for a skirmish. Same height. Similar build. Graham flexed his hand at his side. He prepared his mind, just as he did before any battle.
Perspiration trickled down Littleton’s face. His disheveled hair fell in damp clumps on his forehead, and his eyes boasted wild rage. “Well, there he is—Captain Sterling,” he mocked. “Come to claim your bride, did you?”
Graham cast a glance at Amelia. Her face blanched as white as the wool shawl around her slender shoulders. “Take your leave, Littleton.”
Littleton’s lip lifted in a sneer. “Ah, he already speaks as if he is Winterwood’s master. It didn’t take long to assume that role, did it, Captain?”
“She’s broken no law. You will respect her decision.”
“She’s broken a vow.”
“She is entitled to change her mind.”
“Change her mind? Women change their minds about what gown to wear. What novel to read or what bowl of fruit to paint.” Saliva sprayed from Edward’s mouth with each pointed word. “What exactly did you do, I wonder? Enlighten me. Did you bribe her?”
Amelia stepped forward as if preparing to say something, but Graham stepped in front of her. “Accept it, Littleton. I daresay you shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Oh, should I not?” Littleton’s voice climbed. “You are here for a few days, and you think you know how my betrothed should think and act?”
“I saw enough.” Graham didn’t like the desperation in Littleton’s expression. Desperate men were capable of desperate things. Graham squared his stance. “You can leave on your own, or William and I will show you off the estate. Take your choice.”
George Barrett stepped forward, outrage in his voice. “You’ve no right to throw anyone out of Winterwood, Sterling. I am master here. I should be ordering you off the property.”
Just as Graham opened his mouth in response, Littleton flung himself at Graham and swung a fist toward his jaw. Graham ducked, but not quickly enough. He staggered back from the blow, warm blood trickling from his lip.
Like a shot from a cannon, fire surged through his veins. Without hesitation he rammed his full weight into Littleton, hurling him against the wall. He thrust one forearm against the man’s throat and the other across his chest, pinning his foe against the cold plaster.
Littleton flailed, throwing angry blows and spewing curses. Behind him, George Barrett clawed at Graham’s shoulder. With a sharp jab of his arm, he freed himself from the older man’s grasp, relieved when William finally stepped in and pulled Barrett from his back. He pressed harder, consumed by rage. All he could think about was dominating Littleton and keeping him away from Miss Barrett. Away from Lucy. Away from Winterwood.
Someone screamed, but Graham paid no attention. All his force and concentration was required to keep Littleton against the wall. He braced his feet and tightened every muscle and waited until the other man expended his energy and began to slow.
Littleton finally slumped in surrender. Both men huffed. Sweat dripped from Graham’s forehead and rolled to his chin. He leaned in close to his opponent, his face just inches away. “I’ll not repeat myself. Leave now.” Then he stepped back.
Littleton’s dark eyes raged with fire, but the man’s physical strength did not match his passion. His chest heaved, and his stare moved from Graham to Amelia. He pointed at her. “Is this what you want? Then you shall have it.”
Graham didn’t dare break his stare. “Are you quite finished?”
Littleton snatched his hat from a nearby table, jammed it on his head, and hissed a warning through clenched teeth. “If you think for a moment I will give up easily, you, sir, are sadly mistaken.”
The man stormed from the library, clipping William with his shoulder as he passed.
The room stood silent. Graham wiped the blood from his chin, noting idly that crimson stained his sleeve. He looked up to see Amelia by his arm, tears welling in her eyes.
George Barrett rushed toward him, his jowls trembling with rage. “Are you pleased?”
Graham pressed his lips together. One altercation was enough for tonight.
Barrett’s face had gone purple. “What kind of a man preys on a young girl the way you have? Look at what you have done. And why? Because of her money? Because you needed her to care for your daughter so you can return to your ship?”
Amelia hurried over to them. “But it’s not like that at all. I—”
“Quiet, girl!” Barrett pushed her away and addressed Graham. “You’ll receive the punishment you deserve for bringing such scandal to our family.” He spun around and took his wife’s arm. “Helena, Augusta, return to your beds. We are finished here.”
Helena jumped forward. “But what about Amelia?”
Barrett turned to stare at Amelia as if he had forgotten she was in the room. “You. You agree with this? You agree to marry this man and go against the solid guidance your aunt and I have given you all these years?”
All eyes were now on Amelia. She met Graham’s eyes, then jutted her chin in the air. “I do.”
Barrett slammed his palm on a round side table, sending the urn ato
p it crashing to the ground. “So be it. Then you are no longer a niece of mine.”
She flinched as if struck. “I hope in time, Uncle, you will understand why I have made this choice.”
Barrett made no answer, just grabbed his wife and daughter by their arms and yanked them from the library, glaring at Graham all the while. Graham let them go. Now was not the time to talk with the man. Maybe he could explain himself sometime in the future, but not tonight.
Graham rubbed his jaw and wiped his face, vaguely aware of his brother and betrothed walking toward him.
“You’re bleeding.” Amelia’s voice trembled. She reached out to touch his wound but hesitated, letting her hand land briefly on his shoulder before falling to her side.
Graham didn’t want her to withdraw her hand. He wanted to feel her touch. His chest still heaved with the effects of exertion and his jaw ached, but he refused to look away from her. She was beautiful, like an angel, with her untamed tresses and her gentle voice. Her very presence soothed him like a balm. His breathing slowed, and he wiped his chin again. “I’m fine.”
Amelia pushed her hair out of her eyes, the firelight dancing on each long strand. It looked like gold. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I . . .”
Graham nodded but said nothing. He prided himself on being a wise enough sailor to know when he’d entered uncharted waters. This woman touched something deep in him. Be it from the blow he received or the adrenaline from the fight, he didn’t trust his words. Not just yet.
He had almost forgotten William was in the room. His brother hurried to the window, pressed himself against the wall, and lifted the curtain just enough to see outside. “Littleton’s gone. Good riddance.” He dropped the curtain and walked over to study Graham’s bloody lip. “You should have ducked.”