Fletcher and Perkins hauled him to the wagon they’d arrived in. Henry didn’t return to Amelia’s side in case the suspect watched from the narrow slats in the wagon, preferring not to absolutely confirm her identity to him. She was continuing to converse with the older gentleman, so she wasn’t alone.
Instead he crossed the street to advise one of the other officers what they’d discovered. It took several minutes before he finally made his way to Amelia once again, noting the older man had departed.
“Well done,” she said with a tremulous smile. “I’m so relieved you caught him.”
“As am I. All thanks to you.” He could see shock and exhaustion in her face.
“I was just speaking with Mr. Stearn, my editor fromLondon Life,” Amelia said, gesturing back to the office. “He heard the blast, of course, and came to see if help was needed, and to make certain I wasn’t caught in the explosion.”
“Only to learn that you were.”
She nodded. “Yes, but I told him you were here, so all was well.”
Her words warmed him. He liked to think she felt protected, though he certainly hadn’t been able to shelter her from this.
Amelia continued, “Mr. Stearn would like to meet you, but I think we will save that for another time.”
“I look forward to it.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to ask this, given what you’ve been through, but do you feel able to give a statement?”
“Yes, of course.” She tightened her lips. “Anything to help. I’d prefer to do it now and have it over with. Before I forget anything.”
“Did you notice anyone else who might have seen the man?” The more witnesses they had, the better. “Someone who was also in the area, someone still here?”
She paused to consider the question, but slowly shook her head. “Not that I remember. My thoughts were on…on other matters.” Emotions swept through eyes, making him wonder what she meant. “He bumped into me and the coat caught my attention, otherwise I don’t think I would’ve noticed him.”
“We will continue to ask others,” Henry nodded as he offered a reassuring smile. “If you’re ready, I’ll escort you to the Yard so we can get this out of the way.”
“Yes, please.” She looked at him with a hopeful expression. “Would it be too much to ask if you could come by this evening? When you’re done, of course. Maybe stay for dinner?”
Henry smiled, his heart squeezing, grateful once again that she was all right. Though tired and sore, spending the evening with Amelia would ease all his woes. “I would like that very much.”
Twenty
Ameliarequestedthatdinnerbe 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 nearlyimpossible 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 wasdefinitely 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.”
