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Amelia made her way upstairs and knocked at Mrs. Halpert’s door. Footsteps approached and the door creaked open enough for the maid, Tabby, to poke her nose through the gap. When her eyes fell on Amelia, she stepped back, opening the door a few inches wider.
“Is Mrs. Halpert available to see guests? Mr. Fremont is here.”
“She isn’t, ma’am. Mrs. Halpert is just now in the bath.”
She glanced behind the maid to find the tall fire screen had been shifted, likely to block sight from the door.
Amelia lowered her voice. She didn’t wish to disturb the woman during her moment of peace. “I shall send him away, then, and ask him to come again another time.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
“When do you think Mrs. Halpert will be finished with her ablutions? I should like to come read to her this afternoon if it suits.”
“She won’t be long now. Another half-hour, I should think.”
“Thank you, Tabby.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy and closed the door.
Amelia slowed her pace as she made her way back to the drawing room, considering the developments that had occurred that morning. If she could avoid contacting Mr. Boyle again, she would like that, but she had a feeling she would be writing the man a beseeching letter in a sennight anyway. If Andrew could not even recall what the supposed lead was that Charles had referred to, then clearly it wasn’t a very strong one.
The men rose upon her entrance, and she took a seat opposite them on a chair so they might be seated again. “Mrs. Halpert is not available to see visitors at the moment. Perhaps it is best if you return another time.”
“Is she unwell?” Andrew asked, straightening in his seat as alarm crept onto his brow.
“No, merely…busy.”
His doctor’s conscience would not let this go easily, as his forehead only seemed to crease more. Flicking a glance between the men, Amelia cleared her throat. If Andrew was alone, she could simply inform him of the bath, but she didn’t wish to bring Charles any embarrassment.
“Shall I see to her?” Andrew pressed.
“In a half-hour, when she is available again, then you may.” She tried to give him a pointed look. “But for now she requires privacy.”
“Will you permit me to wait so I may visit as well?” Charles asked. “With the cottages and the horse-thieves to deal with, I am not sure when I will be able to return. I would like to check in with Mrs. Halpert.”’
“Of course,” Andrew said, relaxing back against the sofa cushion. He must have taken Amelia’s meaning. “This works to my benefit. I would love to hear an accounting of the events which transpired last night.”
“I believe I have told you everything already, brother.”
Andrew grinned. “But I should like to hear it again. From another perspective.”
The cad. He merely wanted to embarrass her, surely. She hadn’t gone into detail in her description. She didn’t want Andrew to know that she and Charles had shared a saddle. In the harsh daylight, the fact seemed less necessary than it had in the middle of the night. In truth, it disconcerted her that she had even made the suggestion to begin with.
She blamed it on the stress of participating in Hattie’s midnight mischief.
Although, anyone looking on would likely assume the idea to share a saddle had come from Charles. Hopefully, Andrew would believe so as well.
Either way, Amelia did not plan to remain in the drawing room long enough to find out. Rising, she avoided Charles’s gaze, afraid her cheeks would heat at once if she looked at him. It hadn’t been difficult sharing the saddle when she couldn’t clearly see his face. Now, with the sunlight streaming through the windows and his clear, blue eyes so vivid and serious, it was difficult to hide from them.
“I will leave you to it, then.”
“Oh, come, Amelia.” Andrew laughed. “Surely you want to add your two bits to the story.”
“You’ve already heard my two bits. For now, I have things to attend to.”
Charles rose, and Amelia caught his gaze, a soft smile curving the edges of his mouth. Was he remembering the horse ride as she was? Drat. Now her cheeks were warming. She needed to leave before they reddened further, for she was sure they were headed that general direction.
“Good day, gentlemen.” Leaving before they could say anything more to waylay her, Amelia fled the drawing room, turning down the corridor to the music room at the back of the house with haste. She slipped through the French doors, catching herself on one of the columns lining the portico and spinning to sit on the bannister beside it. Resting her palms against her cheeks, her chest rose and fell in rapid succession.
