“How is it you can so easily read my thoughts?” she asked curiously, unable to deny how much that pleased her.
“I have witnessed you in action often enough to guess what you might be thinking.” The warmth in his expression caused a flutter of awareness to run along her skin.
“Very well,” she agreed, albeit with reluctance. “But know I stand at the ready to lend a hand when the need arises.”
“If.”
Amelia smiled. “When.”
His smile returned. “I shall keep that in mind.”
The train’s whistle pierced the air and soon the train shuddered to a halt. The melancholy sound matched Amelia’s mood as their time together came to an end. The rest of her day stretched empty, devoid of anything significant to occupy her. However, she knew from experience that she would find a way to fill it.
“When are the children from the church school visiting your laboratory?” Henry asked.
Amelia’s interest in chemistry had been fueled by her father’s work as an apothecary and she had for years enjoyed a smalllaboratory in her attic, the hobby providing a welcome distraction, especially since the sudden deaths of her daughter and husband.
Conducting experiments required a focus that prevented her from dwelling on her overwhelming grief or her lack of purpose. As time went on, the grief had faded and the obsession with chemistry remained. She enjoyed learning and was anxious to instill that same quality in the children at the school, some of whom she knew personally.
On her last visit, she’d mentioned the idea of having those interested join her in the laboratory to conduct a few simple experiments. Given how Maeve, the ravenkeeper’s daughter who’d stayed with her for a short while after her father’s gruesome murder, had been fascinated by experiments, Amelia felt certain the children from the school of which her aunt was a patron would be intrigued as well.
“So many were interested that the headmistress asked if I could do an experiment there—my little attic simply wouldn’t fit them. I’m going next week but I need to purchase a few more supplies first.” The reminder of the upcoming event helped lift her spirits.
“What will you show them?” Henry asked as they waited for their turn to disembark.
“Maeve’s favorite experiment was making colorful foam that overflows.” Amelia smiled as she remembered the girl’s awe and delight. “It is simple enough and doesn’t involve dangerous chemicals.”
“That sounds perfect, though it might be challenging to find another that will be quite so exciting.” He stood, offering a hand to help Amelia do the same.
“True.” The concern had crossed Amelia’s mind as well. “Perhaps I should start with a simpler one, then end with the foam.”
“I have no doubt you will find the perfect experiments to perform, and you’ll be an excellent demonstrator.” He leaned closer. “If you’re not careful, the school will attempt to recruit you as a teacher.”
Amelia laughed. “I hardly think I’m qualified, but I would like to help on occasion if I can. I think it’s good for the children, especially girls, to see how interesting science is.”
“Agreed. I’m certain Agnes and Pudge are delighted to see you each time you visit.”
Henry and Amelia had met the two girls, former mudlarks who’d dug for valuables on the banks of the River Thames, when they’d become targeted in a murder investigation.
“It is a pleasure to see them doing so well,” Amelia said warmly. “I only wish Maeve lived closer so we could visit her, too.” She had done so after spending Christmas with her parents, and she and the girl exchanged letters often, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. “Her aunt still intends to have Maeve visit for a week this summer.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” Henry frowned. “I only hope the memories of London, of your home after such a tragedy, won’t be too much for her.”
“That is also my concern.” Amelia knew that feeling all too well. It was difficult to guess what might send one into the depths of despair when grieving.
Henry had recently experienced his own share of grief when a friend of his family’s had been murdered; an innocent youngwoman just blooming into adulthood. Amelia knew no case before had been as personal as that one. Henry had identified the killer and arrested him, as she had known he would…but as Amelia knew firsthand, justice only helped to ease one’s sadness in part.
They moved slowly toward the exit of the station with the other passengers, and it was all Amelia could do to keep her steps from slowing, much like a child reluctant to take a nap. Every moment with Henry beside her was a moment when she wasn’t alone.
“Perhaps you could join me for dinner one evening,” she suggested suddenly, cheeks heating as she realized how forward that sounded.
“How kind of you to save me from stopping by unannounced once again,” Henry answered with a smile.
“Please know you are welcome any time your schedule permits, no invitation required.” In fact, she wouldn’t mind if they dined together every evening. Did she dare tell him that, or would it be too brazen?
“I appreciate the standing invitation more than I can say.” His gaze swept over the platform, teeming with people, before returning to meet hers. “Would tomorrow evening be acceptable?”
Delight had her grinning. “That would be perfect. I shall alert Mrs. Appleton so she can prepare something astoundingly special.”
