Chapter 8
Eight
Amelia hardly knew how to respond, too surprised—too touched—by his words.
Yes, she’d half expected him to say something of the sort a week or two ago, but when he hadn’t, she decided she’d clearly misunderstood. That she didn’t know him as well as she thought.
And now the man was staring at her in worry and she had said nothing!
“Henry! I-I feel much the same.” She shook her head.
That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. She was already making a mess of it.
“I love you, too. I admire your determination to provide justice to those who can’t seek it themselves.
I admire your integrity, your trustworthiness, and so many other qualities I can’t find the words for at the moment.
” She let out a small laugh, blinking back tears.
Oh, this was too much. Too much, and all she wanted.
“As long as I have your regard, that is all I need.” He smiled as he gazed into her eyes, emotions swirling in their dark depths.
With one hand still holding hers, and taking care not to damage the flowers, he wrapped his other arm around her. He kissed her, long and deep, as though determined to express his love with more than simple words.
Passion took hold, surprising her with its strength. The idea that this handsome man with his arms wrapped around her loved her only added to the heady moment, one that would surely never end—
“Meow.” The sensation of a feline rubbing against her skirts had her drawing back with another laugh.
“M-Master Leopold, you have poor timing.” Amelia was breathless, both from the kiss and the emotions racing through her, and she had yet to release his hand.
Henry’s grin suggested that pleased him to no end.
“Indeed, you do,” he agreed, bending down to scratch the cat along its neck.
At least Master Leopold’s arrival allowed them both time to gather themselves.
The feline was a relatively new member of the household, an indirect result of one of Henry’s murder investigations.
Amelia had known the victim in Gravesend and agreed to take the cat when none of the deceased’s family wanted the poor thing.
Master Leopold now managed the entire household, keeping a close eye on them all and, of course, greeting visitors.
Having done his duty, the cat strolled toward the fire to make himself comfortable on the rug before it.
“Oh, Henry.” Heat blossomed in Amelia’s cheeks as she again looked between him and the flowers, shocked that she wanted him to take her into his arms once again. She released his hand to press hers on her chest. “My heart is full, I couldn’t be happier.”
He drew a gentle finger along her cheek. “Nor could I.” He glanced at the flowers. “Perhaps I should’ve brought them in a vase.” His frown suggested he wondered if he’d made a misstep.
“We have several that will be perfect,” she quickly reassured him. “And if I were to guess, Fernsby will no doubt bring one shortly.”
“Your staff is ever efficient.”
Unable to resist further contact, she reached up to cup his cheek, flowers still in her other hand. “I adore you, Henry,” she murmured. “I’m so pleased we found one another.”
“As am I.” He kissed her briefly before leaning back to look into her eyes. “You are so special. I am the luckiest of men.”
She blinked again, certain her smile was impossibly bright.
“We are the luckiest.” Though thrilled with his declaration, as well as her ability to express the same, a part of her was relieved he hadn’t proposed.
Sharing their feelings for one another was a big enough step for now and enough to leave her feeling overwhelmed.
After another sniff of the flowers she asked, “Now then, shall we have a drink before dinner?”
“I would like that very much.”
She carefully set the flowers on a nearby table, her legs not quite steady, then managed to move to the sideboard which held the crystal decanters.
Henry watched her, a hint of disbelief shining in his warm brown eyes as if he were still having difficulty believing what they’d just shared. She felt the same, but the joy within her confirmed it. How thoughtful of him not to pressure her, yet say what was in his heart.
She soon returned to his side and handed him his glass, then led the way to the settee, wondering if he’d noticed the change in furniture.
“You’ve rearranged,” he confirmed with a smile as he waited for her to sit.
Another blush heated her cheeks as she sank onto one side of the settee, deciding it was best to be honest. “I decided I preferred for us to sit together. I hope you don’t mind.”
Henry joined her. “In truth, I’m thrilled.”
Clearly she wasn’t the only one ready for them to be closer in both heart and body. “Good.” She nodded, her gaze shifting to the cat who licked a paw with determination and grace. “Master Leopold wasn’t certain whether he liked the change in layout at first, but he’s since agreed.”
Henry chuckled, watching the cat too. “Smart cat.”
A companionable silence descended as they both sipped their drinks.
Though she longed to inquire about his day Amelia held back, not wanting to think the only reason she had invited him to dinner was for his investigative work. Instead, she simply enjoyed the moment and the feel of him at her side.
“How was your day?” he soon asked.
“Well enough. I went to St. Hope’s Charitable School.”
“To see your aunt?”
Amelia smiled. “In part.”
“She is well?”
“She says she is.” Yet she couldn’t help wondering if that were completely true as she recalled their conversation.
He waited in silence as if to see if she’d clarify the answer.
“She expressed concern that Mr. Tinton might be searching for her.” She frowned, holding Henry’s gaze. “And wondered if she’d somehow been mistaken about the circumstances of her money.”
“Hmmm. For what it’s worth, I don’t think she was.”
The confirmation warmed her. “Nor do I. Of course she’s pleased to have her money back. It’s almost as if she lost her outrage when that happened, and without it, memories of their time together have returned.”
He nodded. “That’s not unusual, but I hope the man keeps his distance. I don’t believe for a moment he ever had good intentions.”
“She needs something to distract her from those thoughts.” Amelia tapped a finger on her lip. “Of course, she was relieved to hear about Miss Elmcroft’s message.”
Henry sighed, but it was enough for her to suspect he had learned something new about the sanatorium. She really did know him well.
He took another sip of his drink, seeming to ponder how to respond.
“What is it?” Amelia asked, bracing herself, reluctant to risk ruining the evening.
“New information has risen regarding Hollowgate Heights.” He gave a brief update, sharing the news about Mr. Walter Dunn, and his nephew’s concerns. “Whether the man is merely unhappy he didn’t inherit or something more is going on remains to be seen.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. I wonder how many guests have died while in their care.” Or how many wills have been changed. Could Louisa possibly be in danger after all?
“Given the serious health concerns the two we know about suffered from, I would guess there could be more. But we do have Miss Elmcroft’s message to reassure us.” He sent her a pointed look. “Try not to worry yourself.”
“True. I shall hold tight to that, though I would feel better if I saw her for myself.” Her gaze held Henry’s. “Do you think that is possible? If you visit the sanatorium again, that is? Might I accompany you?”
“Perhaps. I don’t like the idea of involving you in yet another investigation, though once again, you are already connected due to your association with a patient there.” He seemed to consider it further. “I will know more once we gather additional information.”
“I look forward to hearing what you discover. The situation does make me wonder what Miss Elmcroft is enduring at the moment.”
“Try not to worry until we know more. Chances are she is truly well, just as she said in her message.” His attention fell to the book she’d been reading when he entered, his obvious delight as he set down his glass to reach for it making her smile.
“You’ve been entertaining yourself with The Principles and Practice of Medical Jurisprudence. How is it?”
The book shared details on forensic science methods, a topic which very much interested Amelia. Henry had seemed pleased by her determination to learn more about the subject, even if he had stated numerous times that he preferred she not be involved in his cases.
“It is very enlightening, though a bit dry. I do think it will prove quite helpful. I’m finding the section on poisonings fascinating.”
He chuckled. “I can’t wait to hear more. I suppose if you’re determined to assist me with investigations, I would rather you do so from the relative safety of your laboratory than on the streets of London.”
“Hopefully, I will be able to do both,” she countered, before sharing some of what she’d read, only to pause when an odd look crossed his face. “What is it?”
Henry shook his head as if in disbelief, even as he smiled. “I can’t help but count my blessings to have found someone I love who shares the same interests. You are a true gift.”
A well of emotion rose within her and she reached to touch his arm, already pleased she’d rearranged the seating. “I feel exactly the same. Henry—”
Before she could say more, Fernsby appeared in the doorway with a crystal vase half full of water in hand. “Pardon the interruption, but I thought this might be helpful.”
“Perfect, Fernsby. Thank you.” She pointed to where she’d set the flowers.
“And dinner is served,” the butler advised as he reached for the bouquet.
“Excellent.” She turned to Henry. “Mrs. Appleton has a wonderful meal for us this evening.”
“As she always does. You have a talented cook.” Henry rose and offered his arm. “I have looked forward to this since yesterday.”
“So have I.” Any time spent with Henry was a true delight.
They enjoyed asparagus soup, followed by lamb chops with anchovy butter. Their conversation covered everything from the headlines in the news sheet to the health of the Queen.
Henry nodded in thanks as Fernsby topped off their wine glasses before departing the room. “How is it that I feel as if we can discuss anything? It’s as though I’ve known you for much longer than I have.”
Amelia’s heart swelled even more. The entire evening had been filled with moments which touched her.
“I feel the same way, Henry. I appreciate that we have not only had the chance to spend time together but found so much in common.” She fingered the stem of her wine glass.
“I’m so pleased you’ve met my parents and that I’ve met yours.
I think that gives our…our relationship an added depth since family is important to both of us. ”
The hesitation that shadowed his expression gave her pause. This time, instead of asking him what caused it she waited, scouring her mind for what she’d said that might have caused him concern.
He set down his fork and lowered his hands to his lap. “There’s something you should know. We have confirmed how important honesty is to both of us...”
She held her breath, her stomach tightening, unable to imagine what he intended to say.
“I’ve mentioned that I always wanted to be a detective,” Henry continued. “To follow in my father’s and grandfather’s footsteps.”
“Yes. Just as your father followed his father, the famous Charles Field, who was friends with Dickens.” She remembered well the stories he’d told her.
“Yes, but I am not— That is to say, I—” He blinked, struggling to find the words. “I was adopted.”
She waited, certain there had to be more when it was obvious how much whatever he wanted to say upset him. “Adopted?”
“Yes.” He briefly closed his eyes, the distress in his expression making her want to rise and embrace him. “You deserve to know. I found out when I was twelve, reading through some of my father’s old case files.”
“That must’ve come as a shock.” She could easily imagine him as a young boy devastated by the news. “But you mean to say—your parents hadn’t told you?”
“No.”
“What did they say?” How difficult the conversation must have been for all of them.
He met her gaze, pain in his eyes. “I didn’t tell them. I still haven’t.”
“They—they don’t know that you know?” He’d just said as much, yet she could hardly believe it. Henry and his parents were so close, so amiable, so open with each other.
“No.” He heaved a sigh. “It never seemed like the right time. I can’t help but think how hurt my mother would be to learn that I discovered the truth.”
“Only if you’re hurt by it.” When Henry frowned, she shook her head.
“They adore you. They’re both so proud of the man you have become.
I have to think the reason they never told you is that it doesn’t truly matter to them.
You are their son in every sense of the word. And they don’t want to cause you pain.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, after considering her words. “But I detest feeling as though the knowledge has placed a distance between us.”
“I would venture to say you’re the only one who feels that distance.” Amelia certainly hadn’t seen it. “Maybe it would disappear if you told them.”
“But would doing so help me, only to hurt them? That is my worry. I don’t want that.”
Amelia nodded, understanding his concern.
Sometimes unburdening oneself had the opposite effect on a loved one.
She had certainly battled with how open to be with her parents about her late husband’s underhand business dealings.
“But if it cleared the air between you, it would be worth the temporary turmoil, don’t you think? ”
He appeared to consider her words for a long moment before the hint of a smile lightened his expression. Then he reached for her hand on the dinner table. “You may be right. I shall consider it further. Thank you for your opinion.”
“After all the advice you’ve given me since we’ve come to know one another, I am happy to finally reciprocate.” His steady presence was something she was starting to understand she didn’t want to live without.
Henry lifted his glass. “To you, Amelia, my love. You are a gift beyond measure.”
How lovely to feel so cherished. So loved. It seemed any previous questions about their future were already being answered. She need only be open to listening.