The Heiress of Winterwood

The next morning every muscle in Amelia’s body tensed as she waited once more in the drawing room, listening for the sound of carriage wheels. This time, instead of waiting for the captain, she waited for Edward Littleton. And yesterday’s optimism had faded to a nervous melancholy.

Helena, dressed in a silk-embroidered gown of jonquil satin and with glossy hair coiled tightly to her head, rose from the settee with practiced poise and moved to stand beside Amelia. Concern creased her flawless brow as she laid her hand atop Amelia’s arm.

“I do hope you are not upset with me for mentioning Captain Sterling’s return to Mother. You know her disposition, and she would find out about the visit sooner or later. Far better it is for her to find out from you or me than from another source.”

Amelia drew a deep breath and looked toward the window, fearing that if she looked her cousin in the eyes, her true feelings would be evident. Perhaps Helena’s intentions had been innocent. But her cousin’s behavior had been unpredictable since Amelia’s engagement to Edward had been announced several months prior. Amelia had hoped that sharing her plan to propose to the captain might restore the closeness between them, but unease remained.

Amelia released the breath she’d been holding. Harboring resentment toward Helena would do nothing but steal her energy. “Think nothing of it.”

As if content with Amelia’s response, Helena patted her hand. “Good. Now, let us forget the entire thing.” A pretty smile brightened her cousin’s narrow face. “After all, the captain declined your offer, did he not? I shall never mention it, and the captain, if he is any sort of gentleman, would take it to the grave. So it will be as if your little indiscretion never happened.”

Amelia fought to hold her tongue. Indiscretion? She turned away to reach for her shawl. Would she never be able to persuade Helena that she’d proposed out of pure necessity?

Did Helena’s approval even matter?

At the sound of a shout and a carriage on the drive, Amelia lifted her head. Her uncle—and Edward Littleton—had arrived.

“Do you hear that?” Helena left Amelia’s side and lifted the velvet curtain. “There, see! Father and Mr. Littleton are here. I’ll have Mother call for tea. Amelia, be calm now.”

Amelia smoothed her skirt and pinched her cheeks. Edward would be a guest at Winterwood for a little more than a day before traveling on to London for business. In that time she had to convince him to open their home to Lucy. She had little other choice.

The click of the door’s latch echoed through the halls, followed by the sound of rain pounding the stone steps outside. Then Edward’s hearty laugh filled the room. She eased at the sound. He was in a pleasant mood.

The moment Edward stepped into the drawing room, his eyes sought her. She could not help the girlish smile creeping over her lips or the flush rushing to her cheeks under the directness of his gaze. Even after the turmoil of the past weeks, she could not deny the pleasure his exuberant attentions afforded her.

He was certainly feeling exuberant today. He barely acknowledged Aunt Augusta or Helena before brushing past James, ignoring the butler’s attempt to take his belongings. He simply peeled off his wet greatcoat and dropped his beaver hat on a wingback chair before hastening in Amelia’s direction. His smile stretched wide as he grabbed her hands and pulled her toward him. The scent of rain still clung to his person. Amelia cast a quick glance over at her aunt. Aunt Augusta would never approve of such a blatant display of affection, but she was too engaged in welcoming her own husband home to pay heed to her niece.

Amelia attempted to remove herself from Edward’s grasp, but he tightened his grip on her bare hands and pulled her even closer. His lips were so close that his breath moved a curl next to her ear. “Tell me, dearest Amelia, that you missed me, even a little bit, and I shall be put at ease.”

She tried to tame her nervous smile and finally freed her hands, the intimacy of the interaction making it impossible for her to look him in the eye. She said what she knew he wanted to hear. “Of course I missed you.”

“Well then, I am relieved.” He straightened, his handsome smile continuing to light his face. “For not a moment passed that I didn’t wonder what my dear little Amelia was up to.”

His voice sounded devoid of hidden meanings, but guilt clenched Amelia’s stomach. She hurried to change the subject. “Come over to the fire, Edward. You must be chilled through.”

He did not object. Instead, he picked up her hand once again and looped it through his arm. The heat from the fire and the closeness of the man nearly suffocated her.

He kept his voice soft. “You wore the blue gown. Periwinkle, I believe the young ladies call it? You know how I adore you in this shade.”

She had grown accustomed to his lavish praise of her appearance, but today his quick flattery made her blush. “You mustn’t speak so. Aunt Augusta will hear you.”

He leaned forward and smoothed the broad lace ribbon lining the outer rim of her neckline. “Let her hear me. What does it matter? I will shout it from the rooftops. I’ve nothing to hide.”

“I know, but I beg of you. Propriety.”

He stared at her for several moments, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he allowed his hand to fall to the side. “Very well. If it is what you desire, then so be it.”

Amelia exhaled and directed him to a chair—the very chair, she couldn’t help but notice, to which she had directed the captain the previous morning. He sat down and adjusted his stark white neckcloth. The rain had darkened his hair to almost black, and with his hand he slicked the damp locks off his face. The long side-whiskers framing his high cheekbones accentuated the noble slope of his nose. His dark eyes, always alert, seemed able to delve into her very soul—a thought that made Amelia avert her gaze.

What if he learned of her proposal to Captain Sterling? She feared his reaction as a child fears an impending punishment. For all of Edward’s winning qualities, his temper was no secret. Everything with Edward was an extreme. He was like a whirlwind: passionate and determined, impatient and headstrong. But his propensity to charm overshadowed any lapses of decorum. He could win the approval of almost anyone—and earn forgiveness just as quickly. Until recently, she had found him all but irresistible.

“Mr. Littleton.” Amelia looked up. She had not noticed her cousin approaching. Helena’s voice, as always, was steady and sure. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Edward stood. “Ah, Miss Barrett!”

“What news from Leeds? Surely you saw someone of our acquaintance?”

Edward shook his head. “I fear I cannot satisfy your curiosity. The bulk of our trip was spent tending to business affairs. However, I am on my way to London in a day or two, and I hope to bring you news from there.”

The overwhelming scent of rosewater signaled Aunt Augusta’s approach. Before another word could be uttered on the matter, she rested her hands on Helena’s shoulders. “Have you not told Mr. Littleton of our news here in Darbury?”

A sinking feeling pulled at Amelia, and she cast a desperate glance at Helena, hoping her cousin would be able to sway the conversation when she herself could not find words. But even that was too late, for her aunt’s words tumbled forth. “While you were gone, we have had a most interesting development here.” She leaned forward, clearly enjoying the game she was playing. “You will never guess who has returned to this county.”

Edward, still standing, leaned back against the chair and crossed one booted foot over the other. “Well then, Mrs. Barrett, you will have to enlighten me, for I cannot even begin to guess.”

The older woman fluttered her fan, raising a breeze that stirred the trim on her gown. “Why, Captain Sterling of course! Little Lucy’s father.”

Edward snapped to attention at the words, his features brightening. “You don’t say!” Amelia winced as he directed his words toward her. “Why did you not tell me right away? This is truly a fortuitous development—and not a moment too soon! Now he can take responsibility for that child of his.”

Amelia bristled. When would they see Lucy as someone other than a guest? “Actually, the captain is open to the possibility of Lucy remaining at Winterwood.”

Edward’s demeanor sobered. “We have discussed this, Amelia. The child is welcome to stay until we are wed. But not after.”

Amelia stiffened at the finality in his tone but willed herself to hold her tongue. Pushing him too hard at this moment would get her nowhere. But she couldn’t help wondering how Edward could love her, really love her, yet be so quick to reject the one person in the world who meant the most to her.

Oblivious to her agitation, Aunt Augusta began to chatter about tonight’s dinner and the menu for the wedding breakfast. But Edward moved in so close that she felt his legs brush the hem of her dress. “Come, Amelia,” he murmured in her ear. “There is no need to get upset. Everything will be fine, you will see.”

So like Edward—eager to smooth things over with nary a commitment one way or the other. She was about to respond when his arm snaked around her waist and held a small wooden box in front of her.

Amelia frowned. “What is this?”

He circled around to look at her, a crooked grin on his face. “You will have to open it to find out. I was going to wait until later to give it to you, but I sense you could use cheering up now.”

Amelia pressed her lips together. She was in no mood for gifts. But she took the box in her hand, the polished teak smooth and cool beneath her fingers. She unlatched the small clasp and flipped the lid open. Her breath caught. There, gleaming in a nest of fine white satin, was a sapphire pendant set in gold.

“Do you like it?” Edward reached into the box, his long fingers grazing her own. He lifted the necklace, the chain uncoiling with the action. “The color reminded me of your eyes.”

She looked up. His own dark coffee eyes gazed intimately into hers. But to her, they were the eyes of a stranger.




Later that same afternoon Edward and Uncle George took a ride over the grounds with Mr. Carrington, Winterwood’s steward. With several hours left before their engagement dinner, Amelia wanted—needed—to spend time with Lucy.

She had asked Mrs. Dunne to bring the baby to her in the morning room—a smaller, warmer chamber with pale coral walls, white frieze and cornices, and a wide white fireplace with a cast-iron grate.

Amelia sat on a small sofa in a pool of fleeting sunlight, intending to bide her time with her needlework until Mrs. Dunne arrived. Try as she might, she could not keep her mind on the intricate pattern. Finally she sighed and set the frame down beside her. Patting her foot with impatience, she turned her attention to two familiar portraits flanking the fireplace.

On the left hung a portrait of her father as a very young man. It had been there for as long as she could remember. The portrait did not show the smile she had loved, but it perfectly captured the kindness in his eyes. Even though he had been gone for well over a decade, she recalled his face with vivid detail. What would he think of her engagement to Edward?

On the opposite side of the fireplace hung the only portrait of her mother. More than one guest had mistakenly assumed it depicted Amelia, so great was the resemblance. The artist’s strokes had captured her mother with the bloom of youth, fair hair loosely gathered around a narrow face and large, watchful blue eyes. As a child, standing before the painted image, Amelia used to imagine that her mother could actually see her. How she wished she had a mother to guide her now.

Mrs. Dunne breezed through the door with Lucy propped on her hip. Amelia jumped from her seat, casting aside melancholy thoughts. “There is my girl!”

When the baby saw Amelia, her chocolate eyes grew wide. She waved chubby fists in the air and thrust herself toward Amelia, causing Mrs. Dunne to nearly drop her.

“Whoa, Lucy!” Amelia laughed at the child’s enthusiasm. “You’re going to fall!”

The child scrambled into Amelia’s arms, and Mrs. Dunne laughed. “She’s been out o’ sorts all morning, lookin’ for you all over.”

The words, delivered with Mrs. Dunne’s lilting Irish brogue, warmed Amelia to the core. “Oh, Lucy, I am so sorry.”

The little girl giggled, showing her dimple. She squinted her eyes and batted her hand against Amelia’s face. Amelia laughed, feeling the weight of uncertainty slip from her mind. Time seemed to stand still when she was with this child. When they were together, she could forget her worries.

Almost.

If the captain were to take Lucy from Winterwood, the baby would grow up as she had—motherless. Even with the presence of a doting governess and a loving father, something had been lacking in Amelia’s childhood. When Aunt Augusta and Uncle George came to be her guardians after her father’s death, Amelia had finally identified what it was. Though Aunt Augusta was never actively unkind, her relationship with Amelia was nothing compared to her bond with Helena.

Amelia freed her earring from Lucy’s grasp and sat down on the floor. Mrs. Dunne produced three wooden blocks, and Lucy squealed and began to bang them together. Amelia smiled, trying to set aside the dread that had crept into her awareness. How much longer did she have with her? One week? Two? A month?

If Edward wouldn’t relent, no more than five weeks.

“Bababa ba ba.” Lucy’s cheerful chatter filled the narrow room. Amelia wanted to memorize everything about her . . . the velvety skin, the soft copper curls, the plump, dimpled hands, that delicious baby smell. Amelia felt her chin tremble. Who would love her precious Lucy if she were taken away? Captain Sterling would be away at sea. Who else would sing to her? Read to her? Brush her hair? Teach her to mind? Teach her how to love?

Lucy lost interest in the blocks and scooted over to Amelia with loose, uncontrolled movements. Amelia gathered her in her arms, untwisting the child from the long white gown. Lucy wrapped pudgy arms around Amelia’s neck and pulled herself up, babbling, “Mama ma ma.” Without warning, tears sprang to Amelia’s eyes.

Last week those sounds coming from the baby’s lips would have thrilled her. Today they brought a joy laced with pain.

In the span of nine months, Amelia had watched the child grow and change. She herself had gone from being afraid of even holding the baby to loving her with an intensity she’d never thought possible. She could not—would not—willingly hand Lucy over. Not even to Captain Sterling.

She peeled a chubby hand from her hair and pressed it to her lips. She needed Lucy as much as Lucy needed her. She kissed the child’s cheek, leaned her head against wispy curls, and whispered, “I will fight for you. You, my dear Lucy, will never be alone.”





You had better finish dressing.” Helena cut her eyes toward her cousin, holding her head perfectly still so as not to disturb the lady’s maid dressing her hair. “And for all that is good and holy, stop leaning against the wall. You will wrinkle your dress.”

Ignoring her cousin’s direction, Amelia pressed her body against the wall and bent forward, stretching her neck to watch carriages line the front drive. She strained her eyes to count them. “How many guests did Aunt invite?”

“Move away from the window, Amelia!” Helena waved a frantic hand, her head still motionless. “What if someone sees you?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Amelia’s tone was sharper than she’d intended. The brocade curtain slipped through her fingers as she pulled her hand away. “It is far too dark in here for anyone to see in.” She turned to pick up her dress, held it at arm’s length, and tilted her head to the side, admiring the delicacy of the ivory Valenciennes lace and the way the pale azure silk shimmered in the candles’ flickering light. Under any other circumstances, she’d be thrilled to be dressing in her finest for a formal dinner. But tonight was different.

“Not like that, Elizabeth!” Helena slapped at the servant’s hand as the girl attempted to arrange a feather in her hair. Then she sent the maid on an errand and proceeded to adjust the brightly colored plume herself.

Once the lady’s maid had quitted the room, Helena turned to Amelia. “Why are you so out of sorts tonight? Do not tell me you are still thinking about that captain.”

The lie slid easily from Amelia’s lips. “Of course not.”

“Well, I should think not, especially tonight of all nights. I overheard Mother tell Father that the Simmonses are coming after all, and—” She paused midsentence and looked around, a frown darkening her face. “Have you seen my necklace? The one with the ruby pendant?”

Amelia nodded toward the jewelry chest atop the dresser.

“Ah.” Helena retrieved the gold chain and held it up to her exposed throat. She pivoted, watching her reflection in the glass. “I do believe you have escaped catastrophe, dear Cousin.”

Amelia adjusted her petticoat over her stays as Elizabeth returned to the room. “I do not understand.”

Helena rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the feather. “It is early yet to tell, but I think you are going to come out of yesterday’s episode unscathed. An entire day has passed. If Captain Sterling had planned to expose you, we would have already heard about it. Count yourself fortunate.”

Amelia suppressed a groan. The interchange with the captain in the drawing room had been humiliating enough. Now, after the incident in the graveyard and today’s interlude with Edward, she was practically at her wit’s end. Feeling the need to defend herself once more, Amelia murmured, “As I told you before, it was a business proposition. Nothing more.”

“Well, call it whatever you like.” Helena took the dress from Amelia and handed it to the lady’s maid. Elizabeth helped slide it on over the petticoat, careful not to disturb Amelia’s meticulously arranged tresses. “At least Mr. Littleton hasn’t discovered what you have done.”

Amelia turned to allow Elizabeth to fasten the ivory buttons down the back of her gown. Glancing into the mirror, she straightened the silver netting adorning the bodice. There was no point in arguing. She needed to concentrate on what she would say to Edward, not on persuading Helena, who at any rate would not be swayed.

Once the buttons were fastened, Helena reached for Edward’s sapphire necklace. She dangled the piece in front of her. “I do hope one day my betrothed gives me such lovely tokens of affection,” she said, her voice wistful. The candles’ flickering glow caught the intricate angles of the jeweled pendant, sending slivers of indigo light into the air. Helena draped it around Amelia’s neck and turned her back toward the mirror. “Perfection.”

Amelia’s gaze lingered on the jewelry’s reflection, and she touched it with uneasy fingers as she considered the imminent union the necklace symbolized and the man who had given it to her. Her stomach flittered at the thought of what she must do tonight. Now that Captain Sterling had refused her proposal, she had to convince Edward to allow Lucy to remain at Winterwood Manor. This would be her one request of him. But it would not be easy. Despite his mercurial temper, Edward was not easy to sway once he had made up his mind. Amelia would have to be intentional with her words.

But Amelia did have one advantage. Once she married and reached twenty-four years of age, which would be soon, she would be a very wealthy woman. That meant her husband, by matrimonial law, would increase his fortune too. And Edward was an ambitious man, with ambitious plans for building on his success in business. Had he not on more than one occasion referenced his plans to expand Winterwood once he was officially its master? Well, he needed her cooperation for that to happen. If necessary, she would remind him of this detail.

Amelia followed Helena from the dressing room. The voices of family and friends wafted up the curved staircase toward them. She bent her neck to see down to the main floor below and almost immediately spied Edward. Dressed in an impeccable black tailcoat and brilliant emerald waistcoat, drink already in hand, he stood laughing with a group of men.

She drew a deep breath. Until they could speak alone about Lucy, she would play the part of an excited and amiable bride. Straightening her shoulders, she shook out the folds of her dress and prepared to descend. But just as her foot was about to fall on the first step, she spotted another face, one she had not anticipated. A gasp escaped her lips, and she grabbed Helena’s bare arm and yanked her back on the landing.

“Ow!” Helena snatched her arm away and rubbed it.

Amelia could barely squeak the words. “He’s here.”

“Whatever are you talking about? Who’s here?” Helena craned her neck to look. After a scan of the main floor, she, too, jerked back from the staircase, eyes wide. “Oh. He’s here.”

Blood pounded in Amelia’s ears. The tragedy that could ensue played in her mind’s eye like a scene from the theater. Her words came in a pant. “He must have come with his brother.”

“But William Sterling never comes to these things.” Helena’s eyes were wide. “Never!”

“Aunt always invites him, though. He is our neighbor. You know how your mother is.”

Time froze. Amelia forced her breathing to steady. Not only would she have to face Captain Graham Sterling tonight, but she would have to face his older brother, the master of Eastmore Hall, as well.

Amelia had not spoken to Mr. William Sterling in months, not since he’d behaved shamefully toward her at a dinner party a year ago. She could still feel the grip of his bare hands on her upper arm, the smell of the claret on his breath, and the taste of tobacco as he forced a kiss on her. She shuddered. She had told no one save her friend Jane Hammond for fear that the incident would be misinterpreted as impropriety on her part. But she had also vowed never to speak to him again if at all possible. Mr. Sterling, if he even remembered the incident, had apparently utilized discretion and never spoken of it either, but that did not mean Amelia wished to be in his company.

But even more daunting than the prospect of an evening with William Sterling or an uncomfortable encounter with the captain was the realization that Edward and Captain Sterling would speak tonight. It would be unavoidable.

Helena’s words were sharp. “This is a fine mess indeed.”

“We need a plan. That is certain.” Amelia paced the hall.

“We?” Helena shook her head, apparently forgetting about the carefully arranged tresses on her head. “No, no, no! I will not be a part of—”

“Please! Just . . . please. Everything will be fine, you shall see, but I need your help. You must keep the captain occupied. Stay by his side as much as possible. Prevent him from talking to, well, anyone else.”

Helena planted her hands on her hips. “I have promised to keep your secret, Amelia, and keep it I shall. But I will not play a part in any of your schemes.”

Amelia linked her arm through Helena’s. “If not for me,” she pleaded, “then do it for Aunt Augusta. She would be mortified should anything go amiss tonight.”

Helena pursed her lips. “I am not happy, Amelia. Truly I am not. But you are correct. If anything should happen and word got out about what you have done, our family would be the laughingstock of the entire county.”

Amelia reached out and patted Helena’s russet locks back into place. “I need you. Lucy needs you. And this is the last request I will make of you. You have my word.”

“Oh, very well.” Helena snapped her fan open and started for the stairs once more.

“Thank you, Helena.” Amelia embraced her cousin and then smoothed her own silk skirt, forcing herself to ignore the guilt tapping in her mind.




Glass clinked. Gentle laughs and polite conversation rang through Winterwood Manor’s dining room. The familiar setting and festive atmosphere should have put her at ease. But tranquility eluded Amelia.

She cast a sideways glance at her betrothed. Handsome and self-assured, Edward boasted a commanding presence. He sat so close to Amelia that if she moved her arm even a fraction, it would brush the black wool fabric of his coat sleeve. She remained uncomfortably still, not wanting to join his conversation . . . or any other.

She poked at the salmon on her plate and dragged her fork through the shrimp sauce, trying not to stare at the captain, who was seated directly across from her. She was grateful that etiquette forbade her from speaking across the table during dinner. At least she would be able to avoid conversation for now. The captain’s brother, William Sterling, sat to his left. As if sensing her attention, Mr. Sterling looked up, his forkful of stewed spinach hovering in midair, and smiled at her. Amelia quickly looked away. Would the captain have told his brother about the proposal?

Amelia eyed the captain again. To his immediate right, Helena chattered on, doing her flirtatious best to ensnare his attention. Her dainty cousin threw her head back in a believable laugh, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright. Amelia sighed. If only she could play as convincing a role. Captain Sterling smiled at something Helena said, his white teeth flashing in his sun-bronzed face. He appeared so at ease. How dare he be so calm when Lucy’s future remained uncertain?

“That was a weary sigh, my dear.”

The soft words coming from the guest to her left snapped Amelia back to the present, and she shifted to face her friend Jane Hammond. “Pardon?”

“Much too weary for a young woman so very close to her wedding day.”

Amelia fussed with the napkin in her lap and suppressed a nervous laugh. “Forgive me. I’m afraid I was lost in thought.”

Jane nodded toward Amelia’s plate. “You have barely touched your dinner. You’re not unwell, I trust?”

Shame crept over Amelia. For as long as she could remember, the older woman’s nurturing manner had been a comfort to her. Jane, the wife of Darbury’s vicar, had been her mother’s dearest friend and, in the years since her father’s death, had become her own friend and confidante. How Amelia wished she could seek her counsel about the past few days. But how could she? She could not risk the exposure.

Jane leaned close and wrinkled her nose. “Whatever is William Sterling doing here?”

Amelia glanced up at the captain’s brother. “Aunt invited him.”

“Tsk. After his actions toward you, I cannot believe he has the audacity to accept the invitation.”

Amelia shrank back at Jane’s words, regretting she had shared the details of William’s indiscretion. Ever since, her normally kind and forgiving friend had all but shunned the older Sterling, all in the name of loyalty. Amelia hoped she would not reflect her opinion of William Sterling onto the captain. “I honestly do not think he recalls the encounter. He was full of drink. Besides, it is in the past, and no one but you knows of it. I would just as soon forget about it.”

“Well, I certainly have not forgotten.” Jane’s composed face give little hint of the anger in her voice. “One would think a man in his position and influence would hold himself to a higher standard. It is indeed fortunate for him that your Mr. Littleton knows nothing of it.”

Amelia winced at the reminder of the number of secrets regarding the Sterling family that she was withholding from Edward. She pushed them away. She had far too much on her mind to ruminate on the shortcomings of William Sterling.

Jane put down her fork. “Speaking of the Sterlings, I have been meaning to tell you about a very interesting visit I had earlier with Lucy’s father, the captain. What a pleasant man he is—quite the opposite of his brother.”

Amelia felt the tiny hairs stand up at the base of her neck. Had Captain Sterling told Jane what she had done? Surely not. “He does seem quite well spoken.”

“Indeed. Mr. Hammond and I ran into him this morning outside Mr. Higgins’s shop. We were so pleased to see him again, for the last time I saw him he was but a lad. What a pleasant man he has become—every bit as distinguished as one would expect a naval captain to be. And he spoke very favorably of you and the kindness you have shown little Lucy.”

“Oh? What did he say?”

“Simply that he has no idea what would have happened if you had not stepped in.”

With every word that Jane spoke, Amelia eased. Clearly, her friend did not know of her proposal. She cut her eyes toward William Sterling before returning her attention to Jane. “I am sure the captain’s brother would have seen to her well-being.”

The older woman patted her lips with her napkin and returned it to her lap. “I doubt it. You know Mr. Sterling’s disposition. He’s of a selfish bent, and he would hardly be a suitable guardian for a child. I don’t like to repeat rumors, but it is said he has lost his entire fortune at the tables. The lot of it. Mr. Hammond tells me he has heard reports that Mr. Sterling is trying to sell part of his land. Can you imagine?”

“And what of the captain?” Amelia leaned in closer to her friend. “Does he have the means to support Lucy?”

Jane nodded. “Indeed. Though he did not inherit his family’s estate, I have it on good authority that he has done very well in his own right. Of course, Mr. Hammond knows a great deal more about these things than I, but I understand the ship under Captain Sterling’s command has been integral to the blockade efforts along the American coast, and in addition to his military conquests he has overtaken several merchant vessels. Mr. Hammond said the spoils have made him quite wealthy. It’s not for me to say, but it seems Mr. William Sterling would do well to hand over the running of Eastmore to his brother.”

Amelia had to smile at that. Her friend seldom found herself at a loss for something to say and was always quick to share her opinion. She tucked her hands beneath her napkin. “Did the captain say anything to you about his intentions for Lucy?”

Jane lowered her napkin to her lap and smoothed the amber silk fabric of her gown. “He said he was in the process of interviewing nurses. He also mentioned visiting the Creighton School because it is so close, but of course Lucy is far too young for such an establishment.” Jane hesitated and lowered her voice even further. “Is there no way you can continue to care for Lucy?”

Amelia’s nose twitched with emotion. She didn’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not here. She shook her head. “I want nothing more than for that to be so. But Mr. Littleton is adamant against it.”

Why even try to hide emotion from Jane? Amelia didn’t want to hide it. If it weren’t for the company surrounding them, she would be tempted to tell her friend the entire story, right down to her proposal to the captain. She felt like a child again, hoping the woman could soothe her sorrows as she had so many times over the years.

“I do not understand why Mr. Littleton is so opposed to your caring for the child. Has he given any indication as to the source of his opposition?”

Amelia shook her head. “He has spoken of not wanting to use the funds to care for Lucy that will one day go to our children. When his father died, Edward was surprised that his inheritance was not what he had anticipated. It seems his father had given a large sum to support a local poorhouse. Edward has declared on more than one occasion that he has no intention of using our son’s money to support another man’s child.”

“But that is ridiculous. Lucy is not a charitable cause. I am sure the captain would support her financially, especially given the success of his recent exploits.”

“But Edward does not see it that way.” Amelia blinked back tears. “What will I do? I really do not know how I can live without—”

The ping of a silver spoon tapping a goblet pierced the conversation. Amelia looked up. Uncle George stood at the head of the table.

Uncle George’s thick hands hung in the air to silence the chattering guests. Edward had all but ignored her through the course of the dinner, but now he turned to her with a wide, boyish smile. Amelia’s stomach knotted.

Uncle George dabbed his mouth with his napkin and let it fall to the table before clearing his throat. “I know my wife is eager to get the ladies off to the drawing room, but before you all leave, I have wonderful news to share.”

A rush of whispers circled the table.

Uncle George’s ruddy face flushed, a broad smile crinkling his eyes. “As you know, my lovely niece will soon be joined in matrimony to Mr. Edward Littleton, a first-rate young man. But what you do not know—what even my niece doesn’t yet know—is that once he and Amelia wed, Edward Littleton will become a full partner of Barrett Trading Company.” George Barrett held up his goblet in a toast. “Welcome to the family and the business, my boy.”

A burst of conversation exploded from the guests. Edward, who could barely contain his enthusiasm, reached for Amelia’s hand and squeezed, nearly knocking over his glass in the process.

More was said, but Amelia did not hear. Piece by piece, the puzzle came together. Her uncle’s sincere yet emphatic insistence on the union. Edward’s constant talk of expanding Winterwood’s worth. Yes, Edward had professed his love—repeatedly. He had done it so often and so enthusiastically that at times she had doubted his sincerity.

Suddenly, she doubted it completely.

She needed air.

Amelia survived the next several minutes until the ladies were excused to the drawing room. At a moment when she was certain no one was watching her, she slipped away from the guests, made her way to the empty library, and pushed open the terrace door.

The cool November air welcomed her. She crossed to the railing, intent on a few moments of privacy before returning to the hustle of entertaining. But after several minutes of attempting to process what she had heard, the door from the library flew open.

“There you are.” A grin flashed across Edward’s chiseled features. His footsteps echoed on the stone beneath him, his unsteady walk explained by the goblet in his hand. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. Isn’t this a nice turn of events?” He leaned next to her against the rail. “I do believe that we are headed in the right direction, dearest Amelia.”

She nodded. The wool of his jacket rubbed her arm through the loose weave of her shawl. She drew the shawl more tightly around her. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent stench of brandy, surmising that his drinking had begun hours before the gathering. “You startled me. I thought you would stay behind with the gentlemen.”

He ignored her statement, a habit of late. “Ah, you’re wearing the necklace.” He traced the chain with his finger, allowing it to linger on her skin. “Sapphires suit you. But in the future, they shall be diamonds.” His breath brushed her neck.

Amelia shifted uncomfortably under his touch, then swallowed. She had better get used to his taking such liberties. “It is beautiful indeed.”

“You must imagine my astonishment at our last-minute guest.” The change of subject was abrupt. Edward dropped his hand from her and took a swig from the goblet before setting it on the railing.

“I assume you mean Captain Sterling?”

“Of course I mean Captain Sterling.” Edward’s nostrils flared at the mention of the name. “If he has returned, why is she still here?”

He did not need say more for Amelia to understand his meaning. “Lucy is just a baby, Edward.”

A sneer tugged his full lips. “If it is babies you want, I can give you all the babies you desire. Just give me five more weeks.”

Amelia ignored his suggestive comment. He was leaving tomorrow, and she needed to broach the subject of Lucy before it was too late. “I fail to understand why Lucy cannot continue to live with us. Once we are wed, that is. What is the harm of it? Winterwood is so large, and—”

Edward’s string of curses interrupted her. “I’ve told you—I just won’t have it, and I’m weary of you pestering me about it.”

A creeping panic gripped Amelia. She had seen Edward under drink’s influence before, but something was different about tonight. He had always spoken of Lucy dismissively, but the closer they came to their wedding date, the more intense his opposition became.

“How can you not see it, Amelia? How can you be so oblivious?” Something like a laugh gurgled from his throat, and he dragged his hand over his face. “It pains me to be so blunt with you, but someone must be. Captain Sterling is taking advantage of you, Amelia. He is playing you for a fool. The entire Sterling clan is. And I won’t have it.”

Momentarily stunned by the accusation, Amelia shook her head. “That is a falsehood. The captain never asked me to care for Lucy. It was my idea. I was the one—”

Edward silenced her by stepping so close that the warmth from his body filtered through the filmy silk of her gown. “The child has family, Amelia, or have you forgotten? She is not destitute. It was her uncle’s responsibility to take her in after her mother’s death, though apparently that never crossed his mind. Now her father is home, and his financial success is no secret. It is up to him to provide for her.”

“But, Edward, I—”

“It is time, Amelia. Past time. You have more than amply fulfilled the promise you made to her mother, and it does you credit. Now it is time to move on to the next stage. Your life with me. With our children.”

Amelia did not trust herself to look up into the eyes that were now so near to her own. She opened her mouth to speak, to defend herself, to share the arguments she had so carefully prepared. “I—I cannot help but disagree. You say I am being taken advantage of—well then, so be it. We have more than enough money, more than enough room, I—”

Edward grabbed her forearm. Startled, she snapped her mouth shut. “You may not care about it, Amelia, but I do. I care a great deal. I will not allow another man to prey on my wife’s fortune or good nature, regardless of how he disguises it.”

With a sudden jerk, he dropped her arm, straightened, and smoothed his cravat, which the wind had disrupted. His hard glare bore down on her, the wildness in his expression frightening her. “Consider your motivations, Amelia. You are acting on emotion, not reason. But I will not allow him to exploit you. Exploit us. My mind is made up. I will not subvert my children’s inheritance to raise another man’s child, especially when that man is fully capable of doing so on his own. I will not be taken advantage of like, like—”

His words stopped short. He cut his eyes away from her, lifted the glass to his lips, and tossed the liquid down his throat. His body swayed.

Amelia shrank back into the corner, hunching under the protection of her shawl, as if it could protect her from the bluntness of his words.

Even in cover of darkness, she could see the anger in his dark eyes. “I care not how it is done, but that child will leave my house.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded toward the door, a silent indication he was done with their discussion. “Do not stay out in this air. You will catch a chill.”

Edward staggered back inside. Watching him go, Amelia could not help but recall the day she had met him. Handsome, self-assured, attentive, he had drawn her to him effortlessly. His every word had held tenderness and a promise.

How had he become . . . this?

How could she possibly marry a man who would treat her so?

But what choice did she possibly have?

Tears threatened. Amelia stared into the black, starless night, pulling her shawl ever tighter around her, as if such a simple action could shield her from the uncertainty of her future.