The Heiress of Winterwood

The fresh scent of toasted bread, plum cake, and coffee met Amelia as she descended the stairs to the main hall. Whispers and clinking silver swirled in the morning air. The normally inviting smells of breakfast turned her stomach, and the tone of the voices tempted her to run back to her bedchamber.

When had her beloved Winterwood grown so cold?

Resolved to at least attempt to mend the rift between her and her family, Amelia forced one foot in front of the other. Her kid slippers made little sound as she stepped toward the breakfast room’s threshold. Her deliberately slow steps afforded her precious moments to attempt to hear the conversation. Uncle George’s strained voice reverberated from the room, but his words were undecipherable. She smoothed the pale pink sarsnet gown and adjusted the ivory fichu around her neck before stepping over the threshold. The sun’s bright light flooded through the window and bounced around the breakfast room, reflecting from the gilded mirror to the silver service to the sparkling ruby at her aunt’s neck.

Amelia squeezed a greeting through her constricted throat. “Good morning.”

Her uncle didn’t acknowledge her. Her aunt glared at her. Sympathy balanced in Helena’s red-rimmed eyes, but she said nothing. Amelia sat down in her chair, and immediately Sally was at her elbow with tea. She sipped the steaming liquid, hoping its warmth would soothe her mounting anxiety.

Tension hovered in the air, daring someone to be the first to speak. Finally, her aunt’s biting voice stopped Amelia midsip. “Since no one will address what has transpired, I shall.” She turned and thrust the full brunt of her glare onto Amelia. “I hope you are satisfied. In one night you have destroyed everything your uncle and I have worked so hard to create for this family. Everything!”

Uncle George snapped his paper closed and let it fall to his lap. “Don’t bother, Augusta. She has made her decision.”

Amelia snuck a glance at Helena, hoping to garner support, but Helena stared at her lap.

Aunt Augusta’s face reddened and trembled as she spoke. “Indeed she has, with little concern for the welfare of those who have sacrificed for her.”

Amelia’s Wedgwood teacup clattered against the saucer when she set it back down. Her shoulders slumped. How many times must she defend her cause? Would anything she said make a difference? She forced strength to her voice. “I hope that one day, Aunt, you will be able to understand why I have made this decision.”

“Oh, I know full well why—because you are a selfish, ungrateful girl!” Aunt Augusta swatted her napkin against the table. “You think you know better than anyone else how the world should be organized, and you consider nobody else’s concerns but your own. Think of poor Mr. Littleton! The man is heartbroken. How can he ever hold his head up in society after such a public disgrace?”

In a fluster, the plump woman pushed herself away from the table and paced behind Helena. “I would wish nothing like it on my worst enemy. And have you given any thought to how this scandal will affect your uncle’s business? The livelihood we all depend upon? I daresay you have not.” She pressed a handkerchief to her nose, and a sob broke her voice. “And I shudder to think of what this scandal will do to your cousin’s chances of making a suitable match when word is out. Selfish.”

Amelia stiffened at her aunt’s biting words and finally found her voice. “Edward will recover—of this I am certain. There is no reason why my decision should affect any business dealings.”

Her uncle huffed, and she turned to find his small eyes fixed on her. “Edward is about to be, or at least is supposed to be, a partner of mine—that is how my business will be affected. Once trust is broken, Amelia, it is not easily repaired. I gave Edward my permission to court you. I gave him my blessing to marry you. Now he has been betrayed in the vilest of manners. I shouldn’t blame the man if he never spoke to any of us again.”

Amelia’s ears flamed, and she tried to swallow. She wanted to tell them that though Edward appeared amiable, he was actually a treacherous man. Couldn’t her uncle see he was only interested in a partnership because of Winterwood’s fortune and would turn on his partner as quickly as he would on his intended? But such arguments would all be for naught. They were determined not to listen.

Uncle George continued, jowls trembling. “Edward is staying at the village inn. I plan to go to him later today to sort out this fine mess and try to salvage what is left of the family name. You may care little for your reputation or that of Edward’s, but this scandal will shed negative light on all of us.”

Amelia’s pulse quickened. “Edward is still in Darbury?”

“He departed from Winterwood in the black of night, Amelia.” Aunt Augusta stared down her nose. “Where did you expect him to go?”

Amelia felt as if the air had been stolen from her lungs. How could Edward remain in Darbury after being refused? What if he planned to stay?

Augusta stepped behind Helena and rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder as she stared at Amelia. “If you are fortunate, by some miracle Mr. Littleton will be willing to look past your lapse of judgment and reconsider a future with you.”

“No.” Amelia jumped up from her chair. Her skirt caught on the table, and she stopped to free the flowing fabric. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She refused to give them the satisfaction of making her cry. “I am determined to marry Captain Sterling and to raise Lucy. No amount of—”

Her words broke off as horse hooves pounded outside the window. She skirted the table and rushed to the window. A thought clenched her mind, and like a wild dog violently shaking its prey, it refused to loosen its hold.

What if Edward returned to Winterwood? What would he do?

Helena jumped up from the table and joined Amelia at the window. “Who has arrived?”

Amelia’s tense shoulders relaxed as Graham’s strong profile became clear. Her confidence surged at the very sight of him. Her knees nearly buckled with relief.

Helena said the words that Amelia’s mouth could not yet form. “It’s Captain Sterling.”

“Despicable man,” huffed Aunt Augusta. In a swirl of pale blue muslin, she returned to her seat at the table. “And arriving at this early hour? Ridiculous.”

The wind billowed the captain’s black greatcoat as he pulled his horse to a stop. Amelia watched as the groom came round to take his horse. She was happy to see him, and was even more grateful to see that he had come alone. The fact that his brother accompanied him the previous night had surprised her, but William Sterling’s repeated visits to Winterwood confirmed her suspicions that he’d been too intoxicated on the occasion of his impropriety to recall it later. If he did remember it, he did not seem ready to acknowledge it, and she would not remind him. She only hoped that the captain would never find out. It was a secret she did not relish keeping. But for the sake of those involved, she must.

Unwilling to wait for Captain Sterling to be properly announced, she hurried from the breakfast room to meet him in the hall. She arrived, breathless, just as he was stepping through the threshold. He swept his beaver hat from his head and handed it to James in one fluid movement. His stormy gray eyes met hers. Her breathing slowed, and something fluttered in her heart—an emotion she did not understand.

He forewent a formal welcome. “Are you all right, Amelia?”

She flushed at the informality with which he addressed her. The only men to call her by her Christian name were her uncle and Edward. But why should he not? “Yes, I am well, thank you.”

“And Lucy?”

“She is well. I spent some time with her in the nursery earlier this morning.”

“Good. Any sign of Littleton?”

“He has not returned to Winterwood, although I have just learned from my uncle that he is still in Darbury.”

“I cannot say I am surprised.” The captain’s every word conveyed purpose. His eyes darted about, as if searching for something. “Is your uncle at home?”

She nodded, purposely diverting her gaze from his split lip. “He is in the breakfast room, with the family.”

“I will speak to him, and then I believe we should call on the vicar and explain the situation. In light of what has happened, the sooner all is finalized, the better.”

He spoke as if checking items off a list, but with every word Amelia relaxed. He was as committed to this plan as she was. His determination boosted her confidence.

“Will you take me to your uncle?”

She nodded. “If you’ll just follow me.”

Amelia would not have thought it possible, but upon her reentering the breakfast room, accompanied by the captain, the room’s oppressive atmosphere grew even colder. Helena stared at something in the middle of the table. Aunt Augusta glared at the captain, and Uncle George continued eating, ignoring them completely.

Amelia’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Uncle, Captain Sterling is here to speak with you.”

Captain Sterling bowed toward Aunt Augusta before turning to her uncle. “Mr. Barrett, I was hoping to have a moment of your time.”

Her uncle’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “You said quite enough last night. I think you should be on your way, sir.”

“That is not an option, I’m afraid. We need to speak. In private.”

“You’ll find my opinions have not changed.”

“I supposed as much. Still, there are matters to discuss.”

As if suffering from a great inconvenience, Uncle George pushed back his chair and stood. He said nothing, but pursed his lips and tucked his paper under his arm, then pointed to the threshold and walked through it. Graham followed.

Amelia rubbed her neck and rested her hand on her shoulder as she watched the men disappear. Unable to endure the breakfast table any longer, she withdrew to the drawing room to wait.

Outside the window, the sun’s white light caught on the edge of the silver clouds and reflected to the ground below. The frost shone like diamonds on the expansive lawn. Everything looked so calm. So peaceful. Why couldn’t it storm to match the restless turmoil churning within her?




Graham tapped his fingers on the carriage windowsill on the short ride to the vicarage. His conversation with George Barrett echoed in his mind like a noisy gull. He’d hoped to smooth things over for Lucy’s sake as well as Amelia’s, but the old man had proved every bit as stubborn as his niece.

He watched Amelia as she fussed with the fur lining of her pelisse and adjusted her cap. Only when she looked at him with those bright blue eyes did he realize he was staring.

“You seem lost in thought, Captain Sterling.” Her voice seemed tranquil, though her shadowed eyes and tightly laced fingers told another story.

He shifted in his seat and braced himself as the carriage lurched forward into motion. “I hope last night’s events were not too disturbing for you.”

She shook her head. “’Tis a shame it happened, but I daresay it was to be expected. I knew Edward was of a passionate bent, but I would never have expected him to strike you.”

“I’ve taken my fair share of blows in my days. This was little different.”

“Be that as it may, he had no right to do so.” She fiddled with the lace trim on her reticule, her eyebrows drawn. “What did Uncle George say when you spoke?”

Graham looked out the carriage window. How could he tell her the truth—that if she proceeded with this marriage, she was as good as dead to her uncle? “It was . . . in keeping with what he said last night.”

“Did he tell you any more of Edward being in town?”

“He did.” Graham’s jaw twitched. If this had been purely a case of a jilted lover, the wounded beau would retreat and nurse his wounds. But this had nothing to do with affection . . . and everything to do with greed.

Graham swayed with the carriage as it jostled down the rutted road. He studied the profile of the woman who would be his wife very soon.

Wife. The very word denoted intimacy. And yet Amelia was still a stranger to him.

He knew she was intelligent. Loyal. Kind. Impulsive. Loving with children, terrible with watercolors. But what of her past? Her dreams? He wanted to know more about her. No, wanted to know everything about her.

His coat seemed to tighten as the carriage’s comfortable silence closed around him. He pulled his gloves from his hands and tucked them in his pocket.

Keep to business.





Jane Hammond didn’t wait for her butler to announce Amelia and Graham’s arrival. She met them at the door herself, her brow furrowed. “Edward Littleton was just here. I’ve never seen a man so beside himself.”

Edward, here? Amelia’s stomach clenched. The Hammond house had always been a refuge for her, and Edward’s visit felt like a violation.

“I need to talk with you and Mr. Hammond.” She gestured toward Captain Sterling, who followed her through the door. “We need to talk with you.”

Mrs. Hammond winced as her gaze fell on the captain’s lip. “For mercy’s sake, what happened?”

Amelia didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Edward struck him.”

Jane shook her head and ushered them in. Amelia handed her cap and reticule to a somberly dressed servant and attempted to remove her kidskin gloves. She hadn’t realized her hands were trembling until she tried to unfasten the tiny ivory button at the base of her palm. She bit her lip, determined to free her hand from the glove’s grip. Why couldn’t anything be easy?

So focused was Amelia on the glove that she nearly jumped when Jane touched her shoulder. “Here, dearest, allow me.”

Amelia sighed and extended her wrist to Jane, keeping her eyes downcast. What had Edward been thinking to come here? What right did he have?

Amelia swallowed as she watched Jane’s long, graceful fingers work the button through the loop and then gently pull the glove from her hand. She released a shaky breath and stretched her fingers. “Thank you.”

Jane called for tea, then ushered the party into the drawing room where her husband waited. Thomas Hammond’s kind, familiar smile should have soothed Amelia’s nerves, but it had quite the opposite effect.

Jane directed Amelia to the settee. “Do be seated, Amelia. And you too, Captain Sterling.” Amelia followed Jane’s bidding and sat down, but the captain crossed the room and stood next to the fireplace by the vicar.

Amelia’s eyes tracked Captain Sterling’s every movement. How she wished she could read his thoughts. The farther away she was from him, the more exposed she felt, even in the sanctuary of the Hammond home.

Jane took the empty space next to Amelia on the settee and took her hand. “Now, tell us what has happened.”

Amelia looked down to hide her trembling chin. She feared that the moment she opened her mouth, her every thought, every secret, would spill out.

Captain Sterling’s strong voice filled the empty silence. “We wish to be married.”

Mr. Hammond drummed his fingers on the mantel. “I gathered as much from our visitor this morning.”

The captain reached inside his satchel and produced the license. “You’ll find that everything is in order. We wish to marry as soon as possible.”

Mr. Hammond took the extended document and held it to the light. His gaze shifted from the document to his wife. Their exchange made Amelia feel like a child. Heat rushed to her face. She didn’t want to be questioned, and she was tired of feeling judged.

Mr. Hammond folded the document and handed it back to Captain Sterling. “Why don’t we leave the ladies to their discussion? We can talk privately in my library.” The captain looked over at Amelia before nodding at the vicar and following him from the room.

Amelia rubbed her hand against her forehead before clasping her hands in her lap. She had tried so hard to keep her tears from falling. To be strong, like Katherine or Jane. But as the men took their leave, a shudder escaped.

“Amelia?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came, just a choking sob. For the first time in weeks, honest, unbridled tears flowed freely. Jane wrapped her arms around Amelia and stroked her hair. “What is it, dearest? Tell me.”

Amelia’s thoughts raced. Where could she start? What should she tell?

Jane gently pushed Amelia away from her shoulder and looked at her. “Is it Mr. Littleton?”

Amelia wiped her face with the palm of her hand. “Yes. No. I mean—not just Edward.”

Jane frowned. “Is it Captain Sterling?”

Amelia hesitated. But what did she have to lose by telling Jane? The news of her and Captain Sterling would be all over Darbury by nightfall. She didn’t want Jane to hear any details from another source, and the weight of her situation threatened to pull her under. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, drew a long, shaky breath, and forced the words. “It started when I . . . when I proposed to Captain Sterling.”

She paused, waiting for Jane’s gasp of shock. It didn’t come. She waited for the reprimand. Nothing. Amelia slowly opened her eyes, fearing her friend’s expression, but Jane’s eyes were soft.

Amelia swallowed, mustering courage to continue her confession. But once she started, there was no stopping. She shared everything from her proposal to their time alone in the graveyard to her family’s wrath.

Jane’s silence during it all unnerved Amelia, and she was glad when her friend finally spoke. “Oh, Amelia, this is news, indeed.”

“Do you disagree with my decision?”

Jane dropped her eyes as if carefully selecting her words. “You know my feelings about the Sterling family, William Sterling in particular.”

“But the captain is not his brother. You yourself pointed that out.”

“Be that as it may, Amelia, you barely know the man. At least, with Mr. Littleton, you know his nature and have your family’s blessing. Are you quite certain this is the path you wish to take?”

“I am. I know it seems imprudent, but I am convinced. Lucy is part of me, and the captain is very kind. And I have come to believe that Edward Littleton is quite unsuitable, perhaps even unscrupulous.”

Jane’s eyebrows drew together. “I do not like to see you in such a situation, Amelia. If only there was another way.”

“I have considered every possible course, Jane. You must believe I have.”

“And you have prayed about it?”

It was Amelia’s turn to hesitate. Yes, she had prayed. Perhaps she’d even experienced some answers. Then why did the topic make her so uneasy?

She stood and began pacing. “Aunt Augusta says I am selfish. I am beginning to wonder if she’s right. Yes, I love Lucy and want to raise her. But part of me, if I am completely honest, is also happy to be free from Edward. What if I just told myself that marrying the captain instead of Edward is God’s will, when in fact I am just trying to please myself?”

Jane looked up from where she sat. “God does not trick us. If you believe God called you to raise Lucy, then he will provide a way.”

“Even if it means bringing pain to those I love? My aunt and uncle are furious, Helena all but hates me. What I have chosen will cause them many difficulties.”

“It is impossible to get through life without facing such dilemmas. All we can do is seek guidance, do our best, and trust our Father for the outcome.”

Jane’s words should have comforted Amelia, but instead they sliced her conscience. She sniffed, not caring how unladylike it was. “I do believe this is the best course. With all of my heart I believe it.”

Jane squeezed Amelia’s hand. “I do believe you have more faith than you think.”

Amelia looked at her hands and sniffed again, wanting to change the subject from her faith—or lack thereof. “What did Edward say when he was here?”

“He wanted me to use my powers of friendship to persuade you to change your mind.”

Amelia wiped the traces of a tear away and sighed. “I dread what will happen when word of this becomes public—and it will. When the gossips learn I have broken my engagement at this late date and am to marry Captain Sterling, I shudder to think what they will say.”

“I would counsel you not worry much about them. They are all prattle, and soon there will be new rumors to divert their attentions. Now, sit and have some tea. You are making me nervous.”

Amelia complied, perching next to Jane on the settee. “But you know how quickly such things spread. People may get a false impression.”

“Well, we will just have to intervene.” Jane poured Amelia a cup of tea and handed her the dainty cup. “It’s simple. Mr. Hammond and I will host a dinner to welcome Captain Sterling back to the neighborhood and to celebrate the engagement. You know how all of the gossips cling onto Mr. Hammond’s every word as truth.”

Jane was right. If Mr. Hammond showed favor to Captain Sterling, his parishioners likely would as well. At the very least, that should help control the local gossip. “You are clever, Jane. Clever indeed.”

A playful smile curled Jane’s lips. “I didn’t survive being a vicar’s wife for almost thirty-five years without picking up a trick or two along the way.” She poured a cup of tea for herself, took a sip, then sighed. “We’ll schedule it soon. I should think that if we have it within the week it will show my husband’s blessing. The rest will follow. I fear that there is no way around inviting your betrothed’s brother, is there?”

Amelia simply gave her a look.

“Well, too bad about that.” Jane took another sip. “Nevertheless, all shall be well, my dearest. You will see.”




Amelia stood in Winterwood’s vestibule, watching through the window as the carriage returning Captain Sterling to Eastmore Hall clamored down the drive.

My plan is proving to be successful. So why do I feel this way?

It just didn’t make sense. With Lucy safe at Winterwood, the conversation with the Hammonds behind her, and her wedding scheduled for the following Friday, she should be excited, filled with plans. Instead, her back muscles ached, her temples throbbed, and she couldn’t seem to make her feet move any farther.

Oh, Lord, please help me make it to Friday. She straightened and started for the stairs. But then a sharp noise echoed, and she froze. She peered down the hall to her left. A light shone under the library door. Someone was home.

Desperate to go unnoticed, she hurried across the vestibule just as James appeared in the hall. “Welcome home, Miss Barrett. I trust your outing was enjoyable.”

Amelia’s heart hammered in her chest at the volume of the man’s voice. She raised a hand to silence him, but too late. The library door flew open, and her uncle filled the doorway.

He came toward her. “Amelia, you have a visitor.”

A prickling sensation climbed her spine. “I am not feeling well. I think I will—”

“Not this time, Amelia.” He reached out and wrapped his pudgy fingers around her arm. “It’s time you faced the consequences of your actions.”

She shifted her weight backward. “But I still have my outside things on. Give me a minute to tidy up and I—”

“It would be rude to keep your guest waiting.”

He yanked on her arm, causing her to stumble forward several steps. Only when she almost fell did he loosen his grip. “Take off that coat and hat. I’ll wait.”

His eyes were hard under wiry eyebrows as she removed her outer garments. She threw a pleading glance at James, as if he could in some way help her, but her uncle was the master—for now, at least.

Slowly she freed herself from the pelisse.

“Come on, girl.” Uncle George walked ahead of her down the hall and stepped back to give her room to enter. She handed her items to James before stepping into the sunlit chamber.

She scanned the room. Her aunt and cousin sat on the settee. Aunt Augusta regarded her with a haughty sneer. Helena would not look at her. Instead, she stared toward the far corner of the room.

Amelia’s breath caught as she followed Helena’s eyes to see Edward Littleton standing there. Jane had been correct—his appearance was much altered. Red rimmed his dark eyes, and his complexion, usually vibrant, was sallow and pale. A day’s worth of stubble blackened his strong jawline. A crumpled cravat hung loosely about his neck, and his wrinkled tailcoat hung open over dirt-smudged fawn breeches. She gaped at him in stunned silence.

Aunt Augusta stood abruptly, pulled Helena to a standing position, then half dragged her to the doorway.

“Wait! Where you are going?” To her own ears, Amelia sounded like a bewildered child. She took a step to follow them, but they ignored her. Uncle George opened the door just wide enough for his wife and daughter to slip past, then followed them out and slammed the door behind him.

Amelia turned slowly to face Edward. She clenched her fists with such intensity that the nails dug into her palms.

His dark eyes flicked from her to the door and back to her again. “Is this what it has come to, Amelia?”

He took an unsteady step toward her. She clasped her hands protectively in front of her and stepped back. He advanced on her again.

And then something shifted within her.

She thought of Captain Sterling’s bravery. His strength. He might not be here, but she could be strong on her own.

She must be strong.

She stood her ground, daring him to come closer. “Why did you visit the Hammonds?”

Edward extended his palms toward her. “Look at me, Amelia. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept. You’ve driven me to desperation. Please release me from my misery. I—”

“You have not answered my question.”

“Why do you suppose I went to the Hammonds?” His short laugh sounded almost like a sob. “Regardless of what you think of me, Amelia, I am not a fool. I know you hold Mrs. Hammond’s counsel in high regard. I thought if she talked to you—”

“That I would what? Change my mind?”

He smoothed his ebony hair, then tugged at his striped waistcoat, the same one he had worn the previous evening. “One could only hope. Do you think I like this? Pleading for your uncle to let me into his home so I can beg you to reconsider? I admit that I’ve behaved poorly. I said things I shouldn’t have. But I love you. That has not, nor will it ever, change.”

“It’s too late, Edward. What’s done is done. My decision is made.”

He took another step toward her. She tensed but did not back away. “I know you, Amelia. You don’t mean that.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Littleton. You don’t know me at all.”

“Mr. Littleton?” His head jerked back as if she had slapped him. “Such formality. Is that how it is to be?”

“It is.”

A flash of anger sparked in his eyes, but then his expression softened. “Apparently I did not realize how much you cared for the child. I can admit I was wrong. If you’ll reconsider, she can stay with us as long as you like. Please, darling Amelia, reconsider.”

“I’m sorry, Edward.”

Another laugh. “So I am to believe the captain has truly caught your fancy, hmm? What line of lies has he fed you? Or perhaps he’s showing you the ways of the world?”

He took yet another step in her direction. Every muscle in her body poised to move quickly if need be. “Mr. Littleton, I want you to leave.”

He lunged forward, grabbing her hands and pulling her toward him. “No, I will not leave. By my honor, I will continue to fight for you, Amelia.”

Amelia had heard enough. “I believe you mean you will fight for Winterwood.”

Edward dropped her hands. “What?”

“I heard you and Uncle last night in the library, before I came in. You were talking about Winterwood, about the money. About my father’s will.”

“You misunderstood.”

“No, I do not believe that I did.”

He staggered back. “And do you think this man—this captain—is any different? Of course he wants to marry you. You are beautiful. Wealthy. And you will take care of his child. He is manipulating you.”

Amelia shook her head. “I am sorry if I have caused you pain. I truly am. But circumstances change. People change. I have grown to love Lucy as if she were my own. Her happiness and security are my happiness and security. And I have no faith that either of us will be happy or secure with you as master of Winterwood. So you must understand. My decision is final.”

“This is preposterous.” Edward’s voice escalated. “Do not think for a minute that I—”

“James!”

Confusion fell across his features, then a wary smile. “Oh, come on, Amelia. You don’t think—”

Her second cry was louder. “James!”

The older man popped his gray head through the door, his expression concerned. “Yes, miss?”

“Mr. Littleton is leaving. Immediately. Please call for his carriage, or horse, or however he came.”

James stammered. “But Mr. Barrett said—”

Her voice hardened. “I am my father’s daughter and heiress to Winterwood Manor. Please see that Mr. Littleton has his coat and have him escorted to the gate.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Amelia, this is ridiculous.”

Ignoring Edward, she turned to the butler. “Thank you, James. And when you are done, please send Elizabeth up to my chamber.” She gathered her skirts and brushed past James without so much as a glance back at her guest.




After a nap and a warm bath, Amelia dressed in a gown of brown cambric embroidered with small white roses along the hem. She sat at her dressing table as Elizabeth worked to brush the stubborn tangles from her hair. Every stroke aggravated her aching head, so she dismissed Elizabeth and decided to perform the task herself.

As the minutes ticked, her reflection in the glass grew murky. Now that autumn had slipped into winter, night fell early over the moors. She abandoned the task completely and shifted her attention to the window, which framed the purple twilight blanketing Sterling Wood. A chill traveled along her spine. She stood, crossed to the window, and told herself to draw the drape, but couldn’t resist looking for a shadow outside. She’d never actually seen Edward leave.

She returned to her dressing table and lifted the note that had arrived from Jane that afternoon. Her friend was planning to host a dinner on Wednesday night to celebrate Amelia’s forthcoming union with Captain Sterling. Amelia shook her head in amazement. Only Jane could organize such an event on such short notice.

Would it accomplish its intended purpose? No doubt news of her dissolved engagement with Edward had already spread to every corner of the village. She imagined every idle tongue wagging outside the dressmaker’s and butcher’s shops. But surely Jane was right. If Mr. Hammond gave the union his blessing, others would follow.

Amelia rubbed her hands over her arms, hoping to generate a little more warmth. The dress seemed pitifully thin for the weather, or perhaps it was the dampness of her hair on her back that made her shiver. She pulled a thick woven shawl from her wardrobe and wrapped her fingers around the candlestick. A visit with Lucy was just what she needed.

Amelia made her way through the labyrinth of stairs and hallways to Lucy’s room, where a cheery fire danced in the wide stone fireplace and bathed the room in a warm glow. Two rocking chairs flanked the ornately carved mantel. In the chair to the left sat Mrs. Dunne, her back facing the door, her figure shadowy against the fire’s glow. She sang softly as she rocked. A lullaby! Amelia searched her memory, unable to recall anyone singing such a song to her. She stepped closer, straining to hear.

“Sing hushabye loo, low loo, low lan. Hushabye loo, low loo—”

Mrs. Dunne turned with a start. Lucy was nestled in her arms, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Dunne. I’ve no wish to disturb you.”

“’Tis no trouble, miss.” A welcoming smile dimpled Mrs. Dunne’s rosy cheeks. “Just singing to young Miss Lucy here. It’s tired out, she is.”

Amelia pulled the other rocking chair closer to Mrs. Dunne and sat down. “That was a beautiful song you were singing.”

“Me mam sung it to me many years ago. I sang it to my own sweet babes, and now I’m singin’ it to this little mite.”

Amelia leaned over and brushed Lucy’s curls from her forehead. “You must miss seeing your own children every day, Mrs. Dunne.”

“Aye, that I do. But this angel won’t be needin’ me too much longer, and then I’ll be back to my own. I daresay they’ve managed well enough without me, what with my oldest girl almost grown herself.”

Amelia looked down at her hands, a familiar guilt tugging at her heart. How much had Mrs. Dunne sacrificed to care for Lucy? “We’ll miss you, Lucy and I, when the time comes.”

“Oh, we’ll see each other from time to time. ’Tis but a short walk from our farm to here.” The older woman stared into the fire, her round face rosy in the firelight. “When we love someone, we do what is necessary to provide for ’em. I know ye’ll do that for Miss Lucy here.”

Amelia leaned back and began to rock, feeling peaceful for the first time all day. From their first meeting, the nurse’s pleasant attitude had drawn Amelia in. And they would never have met if not for Katherine. Mrs. Dunne’s reputation for midwifery was unparalleled, and when the difficulties arose with Katherine’s pregnancy, Mrs. Dunne had offered advice and guidance. Then when Katherine died and Lucy required a wet nurse, Mrs. Dunne, having recently weaned a child of her own, had filled the role seamlessly. Despite the differences in their stations, these days she sometimes felt Mrs. Dunne was her only friend in the house.

“Speakin’ of returning to family.” Mrs. Dunne looked down at the sleeping baby. “Might I ask if the captain’s made any decisions with regard to Lucy’s future?”

Amelia blinked. She’d assumed Mrs. Dunne had heard her news from the other servants. But the woman appeared totally unaware. Amelia leaned back in her rocking chair. “Perhaps you’ve not heard, but my plans have shifted. I have parted ways with Edward Littleton and will marry Captain Sterling this Friday. So your position is secure here at Winterwood Manor if you can continue on.”

Mrs. Dunne nodded. “Aye, miss, I’ll be thinkin’ on that.”

An awkward silence hung in the air, so Amelia promptly changed the subject.

“I cannot believe Lucy is asleep already. Do you think she will wake if you hand her to me?”

Mrs. Dunne’s throaty chuckle brought a smile to Amelia’s face. “I’m of the mind the Lord himself could come with the wind an’ the fire, and it wouldn’t wake this little one. Here.”

Amelia took Lucy in her arms, leaned back slowly, and nestled the child in the crook of her elbow. Nothing compared to the serenity of cradling a sleeping infant. Her rhythmic breathing and soft scent carried away every trace of the day’s troubles.

“Would ye like me to read to you, miss?”

Amelia pulled her gaze away from firelight dancing on copper curls. “That would be lovely.”

“Maybe something from God’s book?”

Amelia tensed, then exhaled. “From the Psalms, please.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Dunne leaned over the side of her chair and pulled a worn leather volume from a lopsided reed basket.

“Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly.” The cadence of the woman’s brogue sounded sweet as any song. Amelia closed her eyes to listen.

“His delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.”

I want to be like that, Amelia mused. Fruitful. Like a tree by the water.

“The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away. Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.”

The words rang like poetry, but their meaning sliced deeper than words intended to merely entertain.

What makes a person righteous instead of ungodly?

Lucy shifted in Amelia’s arms, and she looked down at the soft curve of the baby’s lips.

I want to be godly. For Lucy. For myself. I want God to be pleased with me.

“For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.”

You do know my ways, don’t you, Lord? Amelia thought back over the past weeks. When she strung the painful events together in her mind, she could see that none of it had happened by accident or her own doing. Minute by minute, God had indeed been faithful to her.

Hope sparked, glowing at first like a tiny ember. Each word Mrs. Dunne uttered fanned her desire to know more.

Lucy grew hot as she slept, and Amelia shifted the babe in her arms. Her sleeve was damp with Lucy’s perspiration. Fiery locks clung to her forehead, and Amelia sobered. The memory of Katherine’s hair clinging to her forehead flashed before her. The same titian hue.

At the memory a particular passage came to mind. “Mrs. Dunne, would you please read the Twenty-Third Psalm?”

Mrs. Dunne didn’t need to turn the page. The words, memorized, slipped from her lips in perfect rhythm. Amelia straightened. She’d not heard nor read the words since Katherine’s last day. Then she had spoken them without faith. How would she receive them now?

As the familiar verses washed over her, she realized she had a choice. She could continue stumbling forward in unbelief, or she could accept that she had a shepherd—and be grateful.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

Jane believed it. Katherine had believed it.

In that moment, Amelia chose to believe it too.