“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.
Nine
“Whatdoyouthink?”Henry asked a frowning Arthur Taylor.
Henry had caught his friend in his office at St. Thomas’ between medical examinations that morning, which was always a bit of luck. Discussing cases over an open cadaver tended to be unsettling.
Arthur continued to frown as he studied the examination report Henry had received. “Impossible to know from this, as they didn’t look beyond the signs of cancer.” He met Henry’s gaze. “We don’t know what we’re looking for, if anything.”
If anything.
That was the problem. Was all this a waste of time?
“Do you think he died from the disease?” Henry asked.
“The examiner noted significant damage to his internal organs, so it’s possible—but it doesn’t appear as if he looked beyond that. There was no reason for him to do so.”
And before Henry could request a second examination, he needed evidence to justify it. Or at the very least, more than a disgruntled heir’s suggestion that all was not as it seemed at the sanatorium.
While clues remained elusive for this investigation, Henry’s spirits remained high. Optimism filled him, despite the case’s slowness and his heavy workload. He felt a sense of steadiness he’d never before experienced—and Amelia had to be the reason. He held tight to the secret knowledge that she returned his love. It provided an anchor he hadn’t realized he needed until now and a balance his life had lacked. His days now involved more than just work and investigations, and that gave him objectivity.
Distance in a case was of course imperative. Then again, perhaps thoughts of Amelia distracted him, preventing him from becoming fully immersed in work.
Arthur shifted his attention from the report to Henry. “Do you believe the nephew?”
