The Heiress of Winterwood

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 length of the other shops, hoping to put some distance between her and the rank pile of rubbish outside the butcher’s unpresumptuous shop.

Suddenly something made her pause and take notice. She turned and peered back through the throng of people and horses at a figure that was eerily familiar.

Could it be?

Amelia drew closer to the shoddy brick wall, wishing to be invisible. A quiver tugged her lip. The gait, the build, the mannerisms—she was certain. Edward Littleton was in Liverpool.

She squinted to make him out in greater detail. He stood close to a woman cloaked in black, a dark blue bonnet obscuring her face. They appeared to be arguing. The sounds of the docks and people muted their words, but their tense stances and jerky movements suggested a heated debate.

Amelia lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the sun peering from behind wispy silver clouds. The cut of the woman’s cloak and the color of the bonnet looked familiar. Then the woman pivoted, and even from the distance there could be no mistake. The sun’s golden light fell on none other than Helena Barrett.

Amelia gasped and fell back against the wall, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. Her first instinct was to run to Helena. Surely she was here to assist in Lucy’s rescue. But more rational thoughts prevailed. Helena was in Edward’s company. And no good could come from Edward Littleton’s presence in Liverpool.

By the time she gathered her wits and pushed away from the bricks, it was too late. Helena noticed her first, and her mouth fell open. Littleton, reacting to Helena’s sudden change in demeanor, followed her gaze. For a moment, nobody moved. Then Helena tried to break free from Edward’s grasp, and he turned and shouted over his shoulder.

Amelia forced foot in front of foot. She needed to reach the butcher’s shop. She had to get Becky Sulter, and they needed to find Graham—now.

Alarm increased her pulse but slowed her steps. Edward. And Helena! She tried to tear her eyes from Edward, but his gaze—his hot, angry stare—locked on hers. He pointed in her direction. Then the two large men who had appeared at his side began crossing the street.

Amelia bolted for the butcher’s door. Why had she left Becky? She hazarded a glance behind her as she ran. The men had disappeared. She slowed. But as she was about to reach the door, a thick arm cinched around her waist and a gloved hand clapped over her mouth. Before she could process what was happening, someone yanked her into the small alley next to the butcher shop.

She kicked, flailed, even tried to bite through the glove, but the arms around her were too strong. She tried to scream but managed only muffled squeaks. She looked around, disoriented. Above her, sky. To her left, bricks. In front of her, the street receded with each step her assailant took. She kicked again, even harder, but the arms lifted her off the ground.

“She’s biting me!”

“Can’t control a woman?”

“Shut up and give me a hand.”

A second pair of hands grabbed her legs, then someone tied a kerchief around her eyes. Its smell was putrid—sweat, tobacco, and gin.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when Lucy needed her the most. Graham flashed in her mind. With a grunt, bulky arms lifted her, and she fell against a hard surface. A hand pushed her down on her stomach. The overwhelming scent of moldy straw nearly gagged her. It pricked her cheek, and something sharp pushed against her side. Hot breath grazed her ear. “If ye know what’s good for ye, pretty lass, you’ll keep yer mouth shut.”




Graham adjusted the pistol at his waist for what felt like the hundredth time. More than an hour had passed, and still no sign of Littleton. “You’re sure this is where you saw him?”

William nodded. “I’m certain of it.” He nodded toward a pub next to the Darndee Inn. “That’s where he and his comrades went last night.”

Graham leaned against the pillar supporting a portico, his eyes fixed on the shabby pub and the dilapidated inn. He gritted his teeth. Now, more than ever, he was certain that Littleton was involved in Lucy’s disappearance.

Another ten minutes whispered past when Graham snapped to attention. “That’s him.” The inn’s door had flung open, and a trio of men emerged. They whispered amongst themselves. One of them shielded his eyes from the sun’s bright glare. Then the two other men broke away from Littleton and started down the street.

Littleton straightened his tall hat atop his head, stuffed something in his pocket, and arched his neck to see down the street. Whatever the case, Littleton was alone. Now was their chance. Graham grabbed William’s arm and pushed him forward. “Come on, let’s go.”

The brothers dodged through the pedestrians and carts on the walkway, weaving in and out of pockets of people, excusing themselves as they went.

“Littleton!” Graham called.

Littleton turned at the sound of his name, a shadow passing over his arrogant features when his eyes met them. His gaze darted between the approaching brothers and his departing colleagues.

Graham and William paired up shoulder to shoulder as they faced the man. Graham didn’t wait for him to speak. “What business brings you here to Liverpool, Littleton?”

Littleton stuttered a response, a false smile on his lips. “Barrett Trading, of course. Busy dock, Liverpool. Ships coming in almost daily. Have one leaving in the morning, in fact. I’m here to oversee. Dockworkers can be a dastardly lot. But I’m sure I need not tell you that, Captain.”

His justification was too quick. Too complete. Graham forced a stare, daring Littleton to look away. “Coincidental, do you not think?”

Littleton shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“Just two days ago the three of us are in Darbury. Lucy is kidnapped. I receive a ransom note demanding that I come here. And now I find you.”

Littleton’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like what you are suggesting, Sterling.”

Graham shrugged. “I suggested nothing. I merely presented facts.”

“I had nothing to do with your daughter’s disappearance, if that’s what you are implying.”

“Listen to that, William.” Graham’s words were addressed to his brother, but his stare never left Littleton’s face. He stepped even closer, forcing the man to look him square in the eye. “If I find out you had any role in what happened, I will see that you pay.”

Littleton’s face deepened to crimson, and his chin shook. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction that the other men had disappeared. “As much as I would like to stay here with you gentlemen, I have business to attend to.” He spun on his heel and headed after his colleagues.

William watched as Littleton darted across the street and into the crowd. “Where do you suppose he is going?”

Graham wondered the same question. Littleton wove through the crowd, his pace increasing. Something was not right. He could feel it as surely as he could sense a storm brewing on the seas. “I don’t trust that fellow. He knows something, so I am going to follow him. Go get Sulter. He went to meet with Kingston at George’s Dock. Can you find it?”

“I can manage.”

“Good. Then let’s all meet back here in about an hour. Oh, and, William?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell them to bring their pistols.”




Darkness surrounded Amelia. She yanked a coarse blindfold from her face.

Edward Littleton is behind this. Edward has Lucy.

Angry, frightened, and sore, she pushed herself off a dirty floor and sat up. She attempted to brush mud from her cloak and peeled off her soggy, soiled glove. Within seconds her eyes adjusted to the narrow stream of light filtering through a rip in the black rag covering a high window.

Where was she?

She attempted to stand, and at the movement overwhelming pain sliced through her forehead. She pressed her palm against her head. The last thing Amelia remembered was being lifted onto something and blindfolded.

She forced herself to remain calm. Her second attempt to stand was successful, and she turned in a circle to assess her surroundings. A lumpy straw mattress in the corner. A single chair against the wall. A chamber pot. A dusty planked floor. A closed wooden door.

She staggered toward the door and jiggled the handle. Locked. She struggled to make her voice confident and strong as she knocked on it. “Edward Littleton? I want to speak with Edward Littleton.”

A shuffle outside vibrated the floor beneath her, and steps pounded toward her door. “Shut yer mouth, or I’ll shut it fer ye!”

Her legs trembled, but sheer determination kept her voice steady. “I will not be silent. I know Mr. Littleton is the reason I am here, and I demand to speak with him.”

Laughter sounded from the other side of the door, and she heard whispering. “Demand all ye want. Ye’ll not be speakin’ to no one.”

She grabbed the door’s ancient handle and shook it again, with more vigor, but something heavy on the other side prevented it from swinging open. She expelled her breath and leaned back against the wall with a thud. The scanty wall wobbled with her weight, and at the movement came a sound sweeter than any she had ever heard. A baby’s cry.

“Lucy!” Joy surged through Amelia at the painfully familiar cry. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. She shook the door until her muscles burned with fatigue. “Let me out!”

Laughter rang out once again. She stood back away from the door and stared at her obstacle, her chest heaving with the exertion. She had to get out of there to get to Lucy. Waiting for their laughter to die down, she decided to change her tactic. “I’ll stay in here and will not disturb you. You have my word. Just, please, let the baby come in here with me.”

“Not on yer life, lady.”

Amelia succumbed to the shaking in her legs and slid down the wall. She shivered when she once again heard the sweet cry. It was the cry Lucy gave when she was hungry or tired . . . not scared. At least she was safe. Alive.

Drawing her knees to her chest, Amelia trembled in the dark room. She leaned her forehead against her knees. Tears began, every inch of her body wracked with sobs. Why was this happening? If she ever needed an answer to prayer, it was now, and she assumed God would hear her just as well in this shabby room as in her chamber at Winterwood Manor.

And so she prayed.





Graham shaded his eyes with his hand and glanced up at the noonday sun. Spots of sunlight danced among the ever-present clouds. From where he stood, he could keep an eye on the location where he told William to meet him and the warehouse that Littleton had disappeared into. He scanned the wide, muddy street, looking for William. An hour had passed, and the dock was but a short walk away. What was taking so long?

He returned his attention to the warehouse. As far as he could tell, Littleton had been inside the entire time. To his knowledge, no one had entered. None had exited.

People swarmed the square and wagons lined the streets, making it easy for Graham to remain unnoticed in broad daylight. He leaned against the abandoned cart he had chosen for cover. Had it been a mistake to trust William to get Sulter? His brother hadn’t proved himself to be very trustworthy in the past, but surely he could be trusted on such a simple mission.

Graham pulled his hat low over his eyes. He couldn’t think about that now. It was time for action. He’d prefer to have assistance, but he’d act alone if necessary.

Just as he was about to move toward the building on his own, he saw them. William approached from the right, Sulter following closely, their black and gray coats and low hats blending them into the crowd. Graham straightened as they approached and made room for them behind the cart, looking about to make sure no one saw them gather. He was about to greet them when their expressions made him stop. He straightened. Something was wrong.

“What is it?”

Sulter gave a quick glance over to William before speaking. “It’s Miss Barrett, Graham. She’s gone.”

The words didn’t make sense. “What do you mean, gone?”

Sulter pressed his lips together before speaking. “She and my Becky went to the market. When Becky came out of the butcher shop, Miss Barrett wasn’t there. She asked around and was told by an onlooker that two men grabbed Miss Barrett. But nobody saw where they took her.”

Fierce panic seized Graham as Sulter’s words scorched his ears. Amelia? If it had been any other man besides Sulter, he would not believe the words. His eyes darted to his brother, whose somber expression confirmed what he’d heard. Graham sucked in a sharp breath. “I told her not to leave.”

Sulter stretched out his hands as if to calm Graham. “We went to the scene, but we found nothing.”

Graham had seen many battles. He was no stranger to danger and fear. But he also knew it was crucial to stay calm in the face of the enemy. But never before had an attack been so personal. First Lucy. Now Amelia. His heart was unversed in how to react. “Littleton’s behind this.”

Graham cast a quick glance back at the warehouse where Littleton had disappeared. Lucy, Mrs. Dunne, and Amelia were all in danger—if not worse. He flexed his scarred hand, and then he noticed it. Someone was absent. “Where’s Kingston?”

Sulter and William exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Graham knew their answer before they said a word. “I searched everywhere.” Sulter’s voice was low. “He was not to be found.”

“Blast!” Graham slammed his fist against the wall next to him. His cravat grew unbearably tight as thoughts fired at him in rapid succession. He needed to fight the sinking feeling and stay calm. For Lucy. And now, for Amelia.

“Sorry, Graham.” Sulter spoke with utter sincerity.

“We don’t need him,” Graham blurted, giving rise to his own confidence. “Littleton’s in that warehouse. I’ll get Lucy and Amelia back if I have to rip it down brick by brick.”

Sulter’s voice, as ever, was calm. “Consider, Graham. We do not know how many men are in there. May I suggest we wait un—”

“No!” Graham would not hear of waiting. Not now. Not when he was so close. He’d made a mistake trusting Kingston, and he would deal with the rogue later. But he would not make another mistake and risk losing everything. He whirled around. “Do you have a firearm?”

Sulter opened his coat just enough so Graham could see the flash of metal tucked in his waistband. William nodded, his face flushed. The thought of William fumbling to clean the pistol in the library flashed into Graham’s mind. He eyed William. “Do you even know how to fire that thing?”

“Well, I told you I’m more of a horseman, but I’m not ignorant. I can shoot well enough.” William’s nervous laugh did little to convince Graham. He needed everyone to be confident. Disciplined. And William’s experience in this type of pursuit was limited at best. But what choice did he have? He had these two men willing to help, and he needed each one. He slapped his hand on William’s shoulder.

“All right, men. Here is what we are going to do.”




Amelia tucked her feet below her as she watched a beetle scurry along the wall’s edge and disappear in a crack. A shiver pulsed through her limbs, and she bit her lower lip. The lengthening shadows slipping in from behind the curtain hinted dusk was about to fall. Not since she demanded to speak with Edward Littleton had she heard so much as a peep, save for a whimper from Lucy. How much time had passed? Six hours? More?

She wrapped her cape around her, grateful for the little warmth it provided. Her thoughts turned to Helena. The shock of seeing her in Liverpool with Edward had not worn off. The argument Amelia witnessed had been heated indeed. Had Helena been helping Littleton with the kidnapping, or had she been trying to intervene?

Amelia scanned her surroundings, now barely visible in the dying light. How long would she be kept here? How on earth would Graham find her? Jane had said that God would never leave her nor forsake her. Was he watching her now, protecting her? Was he watching Lucy and Mrs. Dunne?

A tapping on the wall startled her. She scrambled to her feet and searched anxiously for the source of the noise. The tapping continued, then a finger poked through a small hole at the bottom of the wall. Amelia’s heart leapt to her chest, and a cry escaped her lips. But the whisper that followed had a familiar Irish lilt. “Miss Barrett. Miss Barrett, are you there?”

Mrs. Dunne! Desperate for contact, she fell against the filthy floor and grabbed the finger with her own. “Mrs. Dunne, are you all right?”

The older woman’s pudgy finger wrapped around hers, and its warmth seemed to spread through Amelia like hot tea on a frosty day. “I’m fine. And Lucy’s fine, praise be to God. It’s Mr. Littleton who’s behind this. None other.”

Amelia’s heart raced faster than ever. “What else do you know?”

“Shhh . . . you’ll need to stay quiet now. The man who’s keeping guard—Jack’s his name—he’s finally nodded off.”

“My door is closed. Locked. I can’t see a thing.”

“From what I heard, they’re planning on exchanging us in the morning for money. But if Captain Sterling doesn’t deliver it, then they’ll put us on a ship bound for Barbados.”

“Barbados?” Amelia had heard lurid tales about orphans being kidnapped and sold in the islands where abolition had created the need for cheap labor. She never imagined the stories could actually be true. Fear trailed down her back as a scene played across her mind.

She squeezed Mrs. Dunne’s finger. “Is Lucy all right? Is she frightened?”

“She is doing just fine. Doesn’t seem to know a thing is different. She’s asleep right next to me, she is.”

“Do not worry, Mrs. Dunne. Captain Sterling will find us.” Her words were directed to herself as much as to the nurse. “He’s been out looking all day.”

“Does he have enough to pay the ransom?”

“He does. Let’s just pray it all goes well.” She hesitated, but her desire for the truth outweighed the need for discretion. “Are you aware of Helena being involved?”

“What, Miss Helena Barrett?”

“The very same.”

“No, ma’am, not at all. Surely you do not think—”

Without warning, a crash thundered from outside her door. Amelia gasped and jumped to her feet, and Mrs. Dunne’s finger disappeared through the hole in the wall. A distant door creaked on its hinges, and boots stomped the planked floors. The blood pounded in her ears with such intensity that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.

Two, perhaps three male voices echoed, but her heart lurched when she heard one voice in particular. Edward.

“Where is she?”

Amelia stiffened. She knew he was talking about her. Her hair, which had long since fallen free of her ivory comb, hung limply over her shoulders. She combed her shaky hands through the tangled curls. She might not feel confident, but by the grace of God, she would appear so.

Something was dragged away from the door. Amelia held her breath as the latch turned and the door swung open. Light from a lantern stung her eyes. Determined to show no weakness, she forced her eyes wide.

“What is she doing in the dark?” Edward hissed at the men behind him. “Is this any way to treat a lady?” He shouted his reprimand over his shoulder as he stepped into the dingy room, a lit tin lantern in hand. Dark shadows hid his features, but she could imagine the smirk he used to give her when he believed he had the upper hand. Well, those days were in the past . . . and they had taken a very dangerous turn. She had to be strong now—for Lucy and for herself.

She jutted her chin in the air. “I demand to know what is going on, Edward.”

“I think you know exactly what is going on, Amelia dear.”

“You are mistaken. Perhaps you had better explain it to me.”

He chuckled. “Oh, Amelia, do not be coy. It doesn’t suit you. You understand perfectly.”

Even in the dark, she saw the outline of his firm jaw. High cheekbones. How had she ever thought him handsome? Charming? His customary scent of port and tobacco assaulted her senses. She winced as his forefinger traced down her cheek, but she refused to allow her gaze to falter. “You’re a liar, Edward Littleton.” Her pointed accusation reverberated from every surface in the room. “I know you are angry with me, but how could you do this to an innocent child?”

Her statement seemed to amuse him. His white teeth flashed in the darkness. “You forced me to. Do you not see it?”

“I forced you to do nothing.”

“On the contrary.” With slow, deliberate steps he began to circle her, like a hawk circling its prey. She straightened her posture and stared forward. She would not give him the satisfaction of showing any fear.

He continued in hushed tones. “You betrayed me, Amelia, and see where that has gotten you?”

Amelia winced as he leaned close to her, his thick fingers caressing her shoulder. “Where’s Helena?”

“Helena?”

“I saw you with her. Where is she?”

“Do not trouble yourself with Helena. She is not your concern.” He dropped his hand and called back over his shoulder, “Get the baby and the nurse and get ready to head to the docks.” He turned his attention back to Amelia. “And don’t think I have forgotten you.”

Amelia gritted her teeth. She glanced around, searching for a means of escape, but Edward’s large frame blocked the door, and behind him stood at least three other men. “Where are you taking us?”

“That would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it? No doubt you expect your dashing Captain Sterling to rush to your aid. But we shall see about that, shall we not?”

Amelia balled her fists at her sides. But suddenly, it all faded when she caught sight of what she had been waiting for days to see—a glimpse of Lucy, her Lucy. The baby’s face was dirty and tearstained, and she squirmed in the arms of a strange man.

Amelia’s nostrils flared, but she forced herself to remain controlled. This was a game to Edward. She could play it too. “I know what you are after. I’m no fool. Let Mrs. Dunne and Lucy go free, and I will give you whatever you want.”

A lewd sneer twisted his face. “Whatever I want?”

She ignored his innuendo. “I’m talking about money. That is what this is about, is it not? Name your sum, and I give you my word, I will make arrangements to get you what you want.”

He snorted. “You give me your word? Ha! I seem to remember that you gave me your word on another matter, and look how well that came to fruition. Your word is useless to me. If you had made that proposition a few days ago, I might have been able to accept your generous offer, but now I have another score to settle.”

He didn’t need to explain. Graham.

Amelia jumped as Edward leaned back and shouted, “Bring her in.” Then she gasped as a broad-shouldered man pulled Helena into the doorway. Helena’s chestnut hair hung loose about her shoulders, and tears wet her face. A rip in her cloak caused it to hang on her at an awkward angle, and her hands were bound behind her back.

“Helena!” Amelia tried to push past Edward to get to her cousin, but he grabbed her arm and held her tight.

His lip curled in a sickening smile. “You don’t mind, do you?” Producing a slender length of rope from somewhere, he stepped behind her and began to tie her hands.

“Tell me, dearest Amelia, are you fond of the sea?”





Edward took hold of Amelia’s elbow, just as gently as he had dozens of times at Winterwood. Except they were not at Winterwood, and instead of her arms swinging freely by her sides, a coarse rope bound her hands together at the wrists.

She winced as Edward’s grasp tightened. From the corner of her eye, she noted his discomfort. Perspiration dotted his brow. His jaw clenched, unclenched, then clenched again. She looked straight ahead down the dark corridor.

“Please, Edward, reconsider this insanity.”

“Oh, it’s Edward now, is it? Not Mr. Littleton? I’ve never known you to be so fickle.”

“Uncle George will find out about this. Do you really think he will continue as your partner when he learns how you have treated his daughter and niece?”

“Barrett’s a fool. Besides, where we are going, we will not need his help.”

She swallowed. She feared his answer. “And where is that?”

An answer did not come. He merely pushed her down the hall, and once at the end, he jerked her to a stop.

His fingernail dug through her muslin sleeve, jabbing her arm’s soft flesh. “It would be in your best interest, Miss Barrett, to keep your mouth shut.” He looked out the door, gave a low whistle, nodded, and gripped her arm. She followed him through the door. Night, black and cold, surrounded her. The wind whistled around the corner, carrying with it bits of icy rain that made her eyes water.

Outside the warehouse, shadowed men darted to and fro. Three carriages were lined up in a tight alley. Steam rose from the horses’ backs. One of the black beasts nickered, sending a plume of hot breath into the freezing air. Where was Lucy? Helena? Mrs. Dunne?

He tugged at her arm, and she dug her heels stubbornly into the muddy street. “Where’s Lucy?”

He did not answer, and when another man came up behind her, fear dragged its fingers down her spine. Edward yanked her, nearly pulling her off her feet, toward a carriage, lifted her by the waist, and all but tossed her inside. She landed awkwardly against the seat. A timid cry startled her already tense nerves. She struggled to sit up and looked at the carriage’s other occupant: Helena.

Edward cursed and looked in the carriage, his eyes wild, black hair disheveled. The wildness, the desperation in his eyes struck a chord of pure fear within Amelia, and she thought better of protesting. She straightened and sat back against the seat, hands bound behind her.

Edward pinned her with his half-crazed stare. He pointed at her and hissed through clenched teeth. “This is your fault, Amelia. Look at how your poor decisions have hurt so many.”

He slammed the door. Urgent, muted voices circled the carriage, and she waited for the sound of footsteps to retreat before she turned to her cousin.

Amelia faced her cousin, who was in the corner, sobs wracking her body. She wanted to feel compassion, wanted to comfort her, but instead eyed her warily. Had Helena played a part in all of this? Or was she merely a victim of Edward’s cruelty?

Helena sniffed, her sobs echoing in the tiny space. It was the first time the women had been alone since their capture.

Suddenly Amelia saw Helena as she had when they were children, with her hair in plaits and ribbons. Her mind was rich with memories of a happy time when they would whisper secrets and share dreams. Regardless of how she had come to be here, the pain in Helena’s eyes tugged at her heart. Amelia scooted close, until her cloak brushed Helena’s. “Tell me, how did this happen? How did you get here?”

Instead of an answer, another cry escaped from Helena. Frustrated, Amelia repeated her question, this time louder. “I know you are frightened, but now is not the time to be hysterical. You must be strong, Cousin. You must. We haven’t much time. Do you know where he is taking us?”

Helena shook her head, her cloak carrying with it the scent of tobacco. Her whisper was barely audible. “You were right. About Edward. You were correct from the very first day Father brought him to Winterwood.”

The carriage lurched forward, and with an awkward flounce, Amelia fell against Helena. She was torn between her desire to comfort her cousin and the desire for truth.

Helena wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “He told me he loved me, Amelia. Said it was me he loved, not you. And like a fool, a stupid fool, I believed him. I wanted to believe him.”

Amelia chewed her lip. Right now was not the time to right past wrongs. They needed to find a way out of their predicament. Amelia spoke quickly to forestall another flood of tears. “Think, Helena. We must get out of here.”

But Helena ignored the question, seemingly unaware of the danger of their situation. “He told me to play the part. Told me that he was going to put an end to the engagement with you when the timing was right and marry me.”

Amelia winced in shock from the words. The reality of what Helena was saying nicked its way into Amelia’s conscience. What relationship had Helena and Edward developed? And how had she not noticed? Edward had betrayed her in every other way, so the news hardly surprised her. But the admission of betrayal by her cousin, her own flesh and blood, cut like a blade. She reminded herself to breathe. Of the need to stay calm and controlled. Nothing of the life she knew seemed clear. She held her breath. All would be revealed. Soon.

Helena’s whisper continued to tremble under the weight of her emotions. “When you announced the end of your engagement to Edward and your new engagement to Captain Sterling, I was optimistic, but then Edward changed. He grew angry. Distant. I never thought him capable of such coldness.”

Amelia frowned, trying to follow her cousin’s strange string of words. “Please, be clear.”

Helena adjusted, and a sliver of light slanted across her face, shining on the tears tracking down her cheeks. She looked away from Amelia. “I—I’m with child.”

Amelia jerked. The unexpected lurch of her stomach made her light-headed. She stared at her cousin in sheer disbelief, momentarily forgetting about the coldness of the carriage. The dirt caking her dress and hands. The fear clawing her chest. Amelia’s voice was lost between shock and dismay, and pity for her cousin at the dire situation she found herself in. She was not sure she wanted to hear more. She slowly swung her head from side to side and stared at Helena’s midsection. “I do not understand.”

Helena’s words were sharp. Short. “What do you not understand? I am with child, Amelia. Everyone will know soon, for I cannot hide it much longer.”

The carriage seemed to slow, and she heard voices shouting outside. A tremor of panic shot through her. “Quickly—we need a plan of action if we are to again see the light of day. You must tell me, how did you come to be in Liverpool?”

Helena’s words were frustratingly—nay, maddeningly—slow and limp. Did she not comprehend the urgency of their situation? “I told him of the child after the altercation he had with Captain Sterling. I thought it would bring him joy. We could finally be together. But instead his countenance grew dark. Gloomy. He left shortly after you and the captain departed for Liverpool in foul spirits. I thought he was angry with me, angry about the baby. He said he had some affairs to tend to and he would send a carriage for me. I had no idea where he had gone or where the carriage was taking me, but when the driver told me we were bound for Liverpool, I began to grow suspicious. Then when I arrived and met Edward, it became apparent what he had done—that he had taken Lucy. We were arguing about it, and that is what you saw on the street.”

Amelia struggled to separate her emotions from the story. “You had naught to do with the kidnapping?”

“No. Nothing. Upon my honor. How could I have known what he had planned? He never trusted me.”

Amelia fell back against the seat, trying to absorb all she had heard. “Edward is a snake, a scoundrel.”

Helena’s face crumpled, as if torn between the desire to defend Edward and acknowledging her mistakes. Tears once again began to flow. “My life is ruined, Amelia. What have I left? If Captain Sterling does not deliver the money, Edward is going to take us to the West Indies, and heaven knows what he will do with us there. Father and Mother will never know what happened to us and—”

“Are you sure, Helena?” Amelia interrupted, unable to prevent the sharp edge in her voice. “Are you sure that your father knows nothing of this? He would have as much to gain and—”

“No! I am certain Father knew nothing. Edward even told me as much.” Helena sniffed. “Poor Father. And Mother will be heartbroken. It will be as if we simply vanished.”

“Well, that will not happen.” Amelia forced as much confidence into her whisper as she could muster. “Captain Sterling has the money. He will not leave us. Mark my words.”

“And if he does recover us, how can I ever show my face in society again? I am such a fool!”

“What’s done is done.” Though compassion for her cousin’s situation pricked her, she fought a rebuke. Helena was entrenched in her own pain. Did she not see the more immediate threat, not only to herself but to Amelia, Lucy, Mrs. Dunne, and Graham? But Helena’s actions were consistent with her nature. “Come now. We must stay strong. Tears will not help us one bit.”

Helena gave another big sniff. “But what are we going to do?”

Unable to hug her cousin due to the rope around her wrists, Amelia leaned her head on Helena’s shoulder. For once, the path she needed to take was unwaveringly clear.

“Pray, Helena. We will pray.”




Despite the cold air, Graham felt a trickle of perspiration run down his neck. The purple shadows of dusk blanketed the streets, and yellow candlelight spilled from dirty windows onto the cobblestones below.

Graham squinted in the fading light to see across the marketplace. On the other side of the square, Sulter leaned against the warehouse wall, smoking a pipe. He tipped his hat in Graham’s direction. The signal. His plan was working. He was one step closer to bringing Lucy, Amelia, and Mrs. Dunne to safety.

Graham nudged his brother’s arm. “Let’s go.” Sure-footed and determined, he crossed the street, keeping his hat pulled low.

William struggled to keep up. “What will we do when we get there?”

“Just keep your eyes open and wait for my lead.”

Sulter withdrew to the alley, as planned, and Graham and William followed him.

Sulter waited until both brothers were in the alley’s safe shadows. “I took a turn around the building and spied in a few windows. Didn’t see Miss Barrett but heard a woman’s voice awhile back and a baby cry some time past. Whatever we do, we best be quick about it. A carriage pulled in the alley as I came round.”

Graham narrowed his eyes. He surveyed the dilapidated building, noting the broken window and crumbling façade. Every instinct within him screamed that Lucy, Amelia, and Mrs. Dunne were within this building. He wanted to rip it down stone by stone to get to them. But he had to be smart. He flexed his scarred hand. He knew better than to be impatient. The price of failure was far too steep.

Graham returned his attention to Sulter. “What are we dealing with?”

Sulter drew another puff from his pipe and looked down the dark alley. “Three doors into the place. One locked; it appears to be a cellar. The other is the main entrance where Littleton went in. There’s a third door behind the building, off another alley. If we go in, that door’s the one we should use.”

Graham flipped his collar up around his chin. He knew the answer to his question before he asked it. But stubborn hope pushed the words from his lips. “Any sign of Kingston?”

Sulter’s silence provided the answer.

Graham pressed his lips together, then opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of a carriage stilled him. In quick response, the men lined up against the wall in the shadows, waiting for it to pass. But instead of rumbling by the warehouse, it groaned to a stop somewhere to the side.

Graham motioned for Sulter and William to stay still. A carriage stopping at the warehouse at this late hour could only mean trouble. He held his breath and waited, each second sliding into the next.

The sound of the carriage door opening was followed by hushed voices. Above the normal sounds of evening, the men heard the warehouse door open, then slam shut. The voices ceased.

Sulter’s whisper was rough. “Saw three men already inside earlier. Littleton and two others. If I was one to gamble, I’d wager the carriage is there to transport ’em to the docks.”

Graham immediately began to adjust his plan, growing nervous. “Can we get in that third door?”

Sulter nodded. “Aye.”

“Good. Any idea of the layout of this building?”

Sulter shook his head. “Never been inside, but it’s a warehouse. Likely ’bout the same as the others—storage in back, office up front. If they have them in there, they probably have them in one of the office rooms. Like I said, I didn’t see them but heard the babe crying.”

Just the knowledge that Lucy had been crying revived Graham’s fury. “We’ll go in the back way, then. Ready, William?”

William swallowed and nodded, but did not speak.

Graham pointed at the handle of William’s pistol. “You really know how to use that?”

His brother hesitated, then nodded again.

“Use it only if you have to. Our objective is to get all of us out safely.”

Graham looked hard at his accomplices. Sulter’s eyes held focus. William’s barely contained his fear. Graham wished there was time to come up with a better plan, but he wasn’t about to risk letting his quarry slip away. He removed his pistol from his waistband, checked it, then nodded toward the back alley.

“Let’s go.”

But as he turned down the alley, the sight he saw sickened him. The carriage was not arriving, but departing. Disbelief momentarily froze his feet to the spot. And when he regained his senses, he ran to the warehouse door, still open. He entered with reckless abandon, weapon brandished, only to be met with an empty room. A dying fire. And the impending sense of failure.

Footsteps entered behind him.

Graham let his weapon fall to his side. He’d misjudged—miscalculated the plan. “We’re too late.”

William’s voice echoed. “What do we do now?”

With renewed vigor, Graham spun on his heel. “We go to the docks.”