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Chapter 20
Amelia could have spent all day holding Giulia’s sweet little Olivia, had the little one allowed her to. The two hours Olivia spent sleeping in Amelia’s arms had filled her heart with joy, the babe’s tiny, pudgy hand wrapping tightly around her finger as though it was her heart.
Riding away from Halstead Manor, however, Amelia’s womb ached with emptiness, and she fought the emotion clawing up her throat and pricking her eyes. She wanted to hold a child in her arms and not have to return the child to someone else. She yearned to hear the corridors of Falbrooke filled with the patter of tiny, running feet, or to sing a little one quietly to sleep while brushing copper curls from her forehead.
But none of those things would come to pass. She’d allowed Albert Fawn to convince her to wed him for the sake of children, but even that prospect did not seem worthy of the sacrifice of marriage any longer. Not when it would undoubtedly end in heartache.
Swiping at a tear that had managed to escape and trail down her cheek, Amelia released a shuddering breath and directed her gig toward the stables. The sun had nearly disappeared behind her, the final dregs of sunlight giving the stone of Falbrooke’s facade an orange glow. The house was so majestic, and she had been chosen as its mistress specifically to fill its rooms with children’s laughter. It was devastating to know how thoroughly she had failed in every regard.
She would typically choose to spend her evening with Mrs. Halpert and Andrew, but just now she didn’t know if she could stomach it. Envy coiled through her, tightening her chest, and she pulled her gig to a stop outside the carriage house, handing the reins to a groom and hopping down without assistance. Crossing the lawn toward the house, she tugged her driving gloves from her hands one finger at a time and shook them out, eager to remove the jealousy welling up inside her.
It was unfair that she should feel so slighted by life. But regardless, she was not fit for company. What Amelia needed tonight was a tray in her room, a bracing cup of tea, and complete isolation.
The front door opened as she mounted the steps, and she handed her gloves and bonnet to Matthew, the footman waiting there. “Is Andrew home?” she asked, crossing the entryway toward the stairs.
“Yes’m. In his study with Mr. Fremont and Mr. Boyle.”
Amelia halted, turning to face Matthew. Her pulse jumped at the mention of Charles in her home, as it always did of late. “How long have they been there?”
“‘Bout a half-hour, ma’am.”
She nodded, suppressing a sigh. It would be better to keep her distance from Charles until she got a better handle on her feelings. She didn’t want to go to the study, and her footman hadn’t mentioned any request of Andrew’s to have her join the men when she returned home. Moving again toward the stairs, she rested her hand on the bannister and paused, groaning inwardly. Why must she have a conscience? She should check in with Mr. Boyle, at least, and find out what progress—if any—he’d made.
Straightening her sleeves, Amelia made her way toward Andrew’s study. She paused before the door and smoothed stray wisps of hair away from her face. Drawing in a breath, she told herself that her heartbeat was not hastening simply because she knew Charles was in the room. It was racing because she was eager to hear what Mr. Boyle had to say.
Opening the door, she knocked lightly to gather the men’s attention. Andrew looked up from his seat behind the desk, and Mr. Boyle and Charles both turned in their chairs to see her. When her gaze caught Charles’s, her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat.
Why, oh why did she have to start forming feelings for Charles now? She shoved down the irritation that thought had ignited in her, hoping it would override the ridiculous lightheadedness beginning to blur the edges of her mind, and pasted a smile on her face.
“Amelia, I’m so glad you’re home,” Andrew said, rising. “We’ve had a development.”
Charles stepped away from his seat, indicating with a light flourish of his arm that she take it, and she cast him a grateful nod before lowering herself in the chair. He moved to stand against the wall to her side, crossing his arms over his chest and casually leaning back.
“We’ve found out who took them,” Mr. Boyle said with no preamble. “But getting the horses back will be tricky.”
Her stomach seemed to simultaneously drop and lighten. “Who?”
“The Tucker boys,” Charles said from behind her, causing the hair to stand up on the back of her neck. She’d never personally had ill dealings with the Tuckers—indeed, she liked Mrs. Tucker, their mother—but she did not trust them. She’d heard enough stories of poaching and underhanded dealings to be wary.
Andrew’s face was grim. “Charles overheard Tim Tucker speaking to someone outside the White Hare. We don’t know who Tim spoke to, but they gave him a week to sell the horses, and he told the man he already had a buyer.”
A few choice, unladylike words filtered through Amelia’s mind, but she suppressed them. The Tucker farm was close to Sheffield House. Charles would have passed it anytime he ventured away from home. “You mean to tell me my Howard has been under our nose this entire time?”
“That is what we don’t know,” Mr. Boyle said. He’d been quiet, and she could only imagine his mind was working to develop a plan to get Howard back. “We will go look at the Tucker property tonight after dark”—he looked to the window—“which will be soon. But from what I know of the events that occurred the night you lost your horse, Tim wasn’t working alone.”
“The other man must have been his brother,” she said. “James.”
Mr. Boyle shrugged. “Could be. Won’t know until we look. If the horses aren’t in the Tuckers’ barn, then we know his accomplice was someone else, likely in Graton, and likely with a barn.”
“That narrows it down to everyone,” Charles said.
“What can I do?” Amelia was determined to help. She wasn’t fool enough to believe her brother would condone her attending their rescue mission—and in truth, the idea wasn’t appealing to her in the least—but she needed to be put to use in some way.
Andrew’s gaze was so avidly trained on her, one would believe he was about to request from her the most important task that evening. “Will you watch over Mrs. Halpert?”
That again? Uncharitably, she hedged. Typically, she would enjoy any time spent in her friend’s company, but tonight was different. She wanted to actually help. “I don’t see how that is helpful. Is there something else I can do? I might come stay with the horses. It will be difficult for the three of you to get away smoothly with six horses in tow, in addition to the ones you will need to ride to the Tuckers’ farm.”
Andrew glanced at Charles, and they shared a look.
