EmotionssweptoverAmelia’sface too quickly for Henry to identify, save one—fear.
He hated that he was the reason for it. Or rather, whoever had set the blasted bomb was.
She glanced away, breaking their gaze, as if needing a moment to gather herself. Was the reality of the dangers his position brought setting in, giving her second thoughts? The concern had him shifting in the bed, even as he hid a grimace at the pain the movement caused.
“I will leave the two of you for a moment,” his mother said, her eyes flashing between them as if sensing tension.
“Thank you.” Her guest smiled politely but still didn’t look at Henry again.
“Of course.” His mother closed the door quietly behind her.
“Amelia?” Henry held out his hand, pleased that he could. His shoulder and side hurt like the devil, but not nearly as bad as his head. Better that he hid the extent of his injuries until her shock eased.
What exactly had Fletcher told her?
She came forward almost reluctantly, staring at his hand not his face. “How painful is it?”
“Painful.” Very. But sharing the details now seemed like a poor idea when she already appeared so shaken. He was exhausted as well, and while sleep would surely help, each time he closed his eyes he relived the moment the bomb had detonated. The wild terror in Marcus’s eyes. The debris pelting down. The ringing in Henry’s own ears that made him fear he’d never hear again.
A faint ringing remained, which concerned him—but at least he could hear voices more clearly, something which had been difficult for several hours following the blast.
Amelia at last took his hand, though she wore gloves, robbing him of the feel of her soft skin. “When Sergeant Fletcher told me—” She bit off the words, finally meeting his gaze, eyes luminous. It took a moment before she could continue. “I’m so relieved you weren’t hurt worse.”
“As am I.” He wanted to reassure her that he would soon recover, but would it ease her distress?
“What happened?” she asked, finally taking the chair at his bedside, her gaze seeming to catalog each of the cuts on his face and neck. No doubt she wondered what the rest of him looked like, particularly his scalp where the bandage was.
Henry gathered the bits of memory he’d been able to piece together. The gaps he couldn’t recall bothered him more than he cared to admit. Though not uncommon with head wounds, according to the doctor, it served as a sign that the injury was serious. Then again, based on his current headache and nausea, he already knew that.
What happened?“I worked late. It must’ve been just past seven o’clock when I left the Yard.” He tightened his hold onher hand, remembering how he’d been thinking of her. “Marcus came to talk to me, much to my surprise, and we spoke for a few minutes.” About what, he couldn’t recall. Why would Marcus have sought him out near the Yard? “We moved around the side of the building and then...”
The rest he didn’t know. He remembered the deafening sound of the blast, the feel of it, the memory enough to make him stiffen. The air shoving him. The glass and stone tumbling down on them in a cloud of debris. Darkness.
“Oh, Henry. How terrible.”
It had been truly terrible, but at least he was alive to speak of it. “I keep thinking of Marcus,” Henry murmured. “I can’t imagine what he thinks, having been caught in it.”
“Fletcher said he intended to check on him this afternoon.”
Henry started to nod, only to wince at the taut pain. “Good, though it might not be easy to find him. I hope he has somewhere to recover. Somewhere safe.”
She glanced around the room which had been his for much of his life. “I would have offered for you to stay with me if you didn’t have your parents nearby.”
He managed a smile. “Thank you for thinking of me. I intended to return to my lodging house after my hospital visit, but Mother and Father wouldn’t hear of it.”
“I don’t blame them. I would have argued as well.” She bit her lip, suggesting apprehension had descended once again. “A bomb, Henry. Thank goodness you weren’t—” She bit off the rest and shook her head.
“I’m sorry to have frightened you.” Exhaustion pulled at him once again, the urge to close his eyes threatening to overcomehim. But reassuring Amelia was important. He didn’t care to think their relationship was being tested so soon after they’d revealed their love for one another.
“Did the physician offer anything for the pain?”
“I-I…I don’t know.” He couldn’t remember that either. He turned to look at the small table near the bed then quickly grimaced. Even the small movement sent a sharp pain through his skull.
“I brought a few things to help and will leave them with your mother.” She managed a smile. “My father would be quite disappointed in me if I didn’t.”
“Thank you, but—Amelia. You’re not leaving already, are you?” Though he could barely keep his eyes open, her presence comforted him more than he could say.
Amelia squeezed his hand, brow furrowed with concern. “You need to rest. Blows to the head should be taken seriously.”
