Chapter 20
Twenty
Amelia requested that dinner be served at the earlier time of seven o’clock, certain Henry would be tired. An early night would be best for both of them after this exhausting day.
Giving a statement at Scotland Yard had been relatively painless as Henry had remained by her side the entire time, then requested Constable Stephens escort her home.
She’d protested, not wanting to take the constable away from more important duties, but Henry wouldn’t hear of it. Privately, she was relieved.
How terrible that his first day back on the job had involved another bomb, but it was surely providence that she had noticed the suspect and watched him place the bundle near the door.
She’d shared as many details of the moment as possible, her mind heavy and her ears still ringing, knowing how often those mattered even if they seemed inconsequential.
Hopefully another witness would be found to help build the case against him.
She was grateful she hadn’t been required to see the man again.
Her delayed return home had been met with concern by both Mr. and Mrs. Fernsby, as well as Yvette. It had been nearly impossible to downplay the unusual turn the day had taken, especially given the dust coating her clothing, so Amelia had been forced to admit the truth.
The looks Fernsby and his wife had shared might’ve been comical under other circumstances. They must wonder how on earth she’d managed to become involved in yet another investigation.
In truth, she did as well.
Yvette had declared her hat ruined, but thought she would be able to clean the dust covering her gown.
A hot bath was prepared while Amelia enjoyed a bracing cup of tea, which had included a shot of brandy at Fernsby’s assistance, both helping to nearly right her world.
Spending time with Henry would take care of the rest.
Had she asked too much of him to come by? Perhaps, though she liked to think they would both rest easier after the chance to not only speak further on what had occurred, but simply be together.
At least, she would. She hoped she wasn’t being too selfish.
Amelia was reading a new novel before the fire with Master Leopold for company when she at last heard voices in the foyer—a miracle, given the continued ringing in her ears. She breathed a sigh of relief, only now realizing how worried she’d been.
Was this to be her experience every time they planned an evening together?
Her heart warmed as she listened to the rumble of Henry and Fernsby’s voices. Marking her page, she set aside the book and rose to move to the sideboard to pour them drinks. Whiskey was definitely in order for both of them, after the trying events of the day.
Henry appeared in the doorway, his gaze steady on hers. “Good evening, Amelia.”
A wave of emotion took her by surprise and she blinked back tears. Leaving only one drink poured, she walked over to embrace him, more than pleased when he held her tightly.
“Is all well?” he asked at length, pulling back to look into her eyes. “You have not discovered an injury?”
“Yes—that is, no, I am well.” She sniffed. “I suppose recent events have made me especially grateful you’re here. And safe.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He hugged her once again and pressed a kiss on her forehead.
The affectionate gesture felt like heaven, doing more to calm her than anything else thus far.
She leaned back to study him, noting his pale face and the tightness around his eyes. “Do you feel up to having dinner? You must be exhausted after today, and you’ve only just returned to work.”
He smiled wearily. “I can’t promise to stay long, but you couldn’t keep me away.
I stopped by my parents’ to let them know I survived the day and to tell them of your unfortunate experience.
They expressed their concern, of course, and send their regards.
” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his expression turning somber.
“Seeing you covered in debris was…nothing I expected. Nothing I care to feel again.”
“Then we are in agreement,” she said, trying to keep a lighter tone.
“Good.” He shook his head. “I’m more than relieved you weren’t hurt.”
“If only I’d been able to say the same after your explosion.” She nearly winced at her words, but couldn’t resist brushing his hair near the bump on his head, her fingertips tingling. “How have your injuries survived the day?”
“A headache still, and my ribs are sore, but I’m definitely improving.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Amelia drew back but took his hand to lead him to the sideboard, where she finished pouring their drinks.
He took his glass and followed her to the fire, pausing to scratch the cat behind his ears where he lay on a chair. “I feared there were a few lasting gaps in my memory, but they seem to have filled.”
Amelia waited until they were settled on the settee before saying anything more. “That must have been concerning.” It certainly was to her.
“Indeed.” He glanced at her with a half-smile. “Concerning enough that I didn’t mention it anyone…not even the doctor.”
“Henry.” She placed a hand on his arm, worry taking over. “You should have. It surely means you need more time to heal—”
“As I said before, I will heal just as well on the job,” he countered. “Especially when all I could think of were the cases I’d been working on.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that does make it difficult to relax.” Still, she didn’t care to think of him forgetting events or people when that would make his job impossible. “You’re certain your memory has fully returned?”
“Yes.” He touched the bump briefly. “The pain has certainly lessened, as has the swelling. I have no doubt I’m well on the road to recovery.”
“Good.” She took a sip, appreciating the burn of the whiskey all the way down her throat. It reminded her that she was alive; alive, and breathing, and feeling. And right here, with Henry, that was enough.
“What of you?” he asked, clasping her hand. “How are you faring after such a day?”
Aware of the weight of his gaze, she forced a smile. “I’m well, if a bit shaken.” She lifted her glass before setting it down. “Hence the reason for the whiskey instead of my usual sherry.”
He nodded, his gaze returning to the fire. Without warning, he set aside his glass and shifted to face her. “Amelia, when—when I saw you there today—”
Her heart squeezed at the depth of the emotion in his eyes. “I’m sure. And I can say that I completely understand, as I felt the same way when Sergeant Fletcher came to advise me of what happened to you.”
Henry took both her hands in his, holding them tight. It was clear he had more to say, yet he inexplicably held back. Was that because of his head injury, or were his thoughts simply as tangled with emotion as hers?
That made Amelia realize she had something to say, too. Even if it might hurt. “I confess that learning of your injuries gave me second thoughts about our...relationship,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye.
Not until she told him what was on her mind.
“I’m not certain I could endure another loss in my life,” she continued quietly.
“Of course we’re not given a choice of what happens.
Life is uncertain. And while the thought of losing you is nearly more than I can bear, I am equally certain that I am not willing to walk away.
You matter a great deal to me. Your…your love and friendship have given me happiness, something I didn’t think I would have again. ”
She finally found the courage to look at him, wondering if she’d said too much. Honesty was well and good—until it wasn’t.
He didn’t make her wait. “Amelia, I have waited a long time to find someone like you. To find love with someone as special as you.” His brown eyes held on her with a steadiness that eased the tightness in her chest. “I am not willing to let you go, no matter the risk.”
She released a laugh, trying not to tear up as his words touched her deeply.
“Today taught me a lesson.” She tightened her grip on his hand.
“A reminder that each day is a gift, not a given. Danger lurks in the strangest places and cannot be avoided completely, though I would still like you to take care.”
He nodded in agreement, his smile warming her more than the whiskey. “I would ask the same.”
Amelia leaned forward, pleased when he kissed her—a kiss that went beyond comfort and well into passion. Several minutes passed in bliss before they eased apart.
She rested her hand on his chest, loving the feel of his rapidly pounding heart as hers echoed the rhythm.
Henry brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek. “I love you, Amelia. And I’m grateful to have the chance to tell you again.”
“I love you as well, Henry, and so am I.”
Continuing to hold hands, they reached for their glasses while Master Leopold studiously ignored them both from his place before the fire.
“To us.” Henry clicked his glass with hers.
“To us.” The simple ritual meant so much more this evening.
They chatted about inconsequential things until Fernsby announced dinner was served, and Amelia only realized she was famished when the butler placed a bowl of steaming pea soup before her.
“This looks delicious as always,” Henry murmured before looking at Fernsby. “Please give my regards to Mrs. Appleton.”
“I will, sir,” the butler said before departing the room.
Henry smiled at Amelia. “I confess I wasn’t looking forward to the dinner my landlady was preparing. It didn’t exactly smell appetizing when I returned home to change.”
“I thought you intended to stay longer with your parents.” She would certainly expect his mother had hoped so.
“I decided it best to return to my normal life and schedule as soon as possible.”
The audible reluctance in his tone nearly made her smile.
“I’m pleased to have regained my appetite.” He savored another spoonful of soup. “Isn’t it odd that a head injury can cause nausea? One wouldn’t think the stomach and head so connected.”
“It is odd—something to ask Mr. Taylor when you next see him,” Amelia suggested, hoping her worry wasn’t reflected in her tone. “May I ask how the investigation is proceeding for the man I saw? Is he the same one who left the bomb at the Yard?” She would sleep better knowing.
“Too soon to say, I’m afraid,” Henry answered with a rueful look. “He has yet to admit to anything, says he just left a bundle of rags he’d found by the door that he’d picked it up by accident and left it for whoever owned it to collect.”
Fernsby arrived to clear their soup bowls and serve the main course of chicken cutlets with potato cakes and a light gravy.
“Thank you, Fernsby,” Amelia said with a smile, waiting until he’d poured the wine and departed to respond to Henry’s comment. “Surely he doesn’t expect to be believed.”
“Bits of rag were collected at the scene, and we anticipate finding evidence of explosives on them. I don’t expect he’ll be free any time soon, if ever.” He took a bite of the chicken and nodded in approval.
“That’s a relief to hear.” She wanted all of those involved to be arrested and kept from harming anyone again. London would be safer without them.
Henry sat back in his chair, holding her gaze. “It seems clear there are several people involved in the bombings. It will take time to find them, including the person who built it.”
“I have complete faith in you.” And she did. Henry’s careful thoroughness, his dedication to justice, was why he’d solved several recent cases.
“Thus far, we haven’t been allowed to join in the investigation.” He looked less than pleased by that. “The department handling the Fenians will look into the man’s recent activities and associates, which should hopefully lead them to the others involved.”
Dismay filled Amelia. “But if no one has been arrested for the bomb that injured you, then one must ask whether that department is truly doing its job?”
“Between the two of us and these four walls, there is already discussion about that very possibility.” He stared across the room, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
“I don’t care for the doubt rising between the departments, but this wouldn’t be the first time.
In all fairness, the Irish question is a complicated one with strong opinions on both sides. ”
Amelia sighed. “True. I only know that I don’t want you, me, or anyone else hurt.”
“On that, we agree.” He lifted his wine, as Amelia did the same. “To peace and prosperity for all.”
“I will drink to that.” And she did, even as doubt remained when it was clear this was far from over.