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Chapter 22
Amelia flung the door open and raced outside. Her eyes fell on her beloved horse, led on a rope by Charles, Andrew beside him. Lifting her hem, she hurried across the drive until she reached the men on horseback.
“You’ve done it,” she said, taking Howard’s face between her hands and resting her forehead against his. He whinnied in appreciation, knocking her back a little as he nodded his large head. She stepped back but didn’t release his head. Unable to dim her smile, she looked up and found Charles smiling down at her. “What happened? Where is Mr. Boyle?”
“He stayed with James Tucker and his friend, a Mr. Paul Harris from Melbury, at Sir Percival’s house. There was far too much to go over, and we wanted to get home.”
“James Tucker is at the magistrate’s house?” Amelia asked. “But…did you not mention earlier that it was Tim who you heard at the White Hare?”
“There is quite a lot to explain,” Andrew said, sliding down from the saddle and giving his reins over to a groom who had jogged toward them from the stables. “Perhaps we should go inside.”
“Yes, I think that would be good.” Howard nudged her shoulder, and she absently rubbed his nose. “I have some news, as well.”
Charles slid down from his horse as well and stood beside Andrew, giving his reins to the groom. “What is it?”
Amelia looked to him, pasting a joyful smile on her face. This was an exciting moment for him, and she did not wish to color it with her melancholy. “Mrs. Halpert has had her baby.”
She watched Charles for a reaction, but he failed to give her one, his blue eyes steadily on her as if he was reading her face, searching for more information.
“What?” Andrew nearly yelled, startling her. “But it’s much too soon. It’s weeks too soon, and I—I was not here.” He started toward the house immediately, but Amelia reached for him.
“Andrew, wait,” she said, and her brother stopped, running an agitated hand over his jaw.
The groom stood nearby waiting for Howard, and she gave her horse a kiss on the nose before handing his reins to her groom. “You’ll watch over him carefully?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Shoving down her hesitation at watching Howard be led away, she turned to her overwrought brother. “We brought Mrs. Fowler to help, and everything went smoothly.”
Andrew, wide-eyed and stunned, shook his head. “I must see for myself. I must examine her.” He scoffed softly in wonder. “The baby,” he whispered.
Amelia did not know what to make of his odd behavior. He certainly cared for all of his patients, but she’d never before seen her stalwart brother act in such a peculiar way. “The babe is healthy, and Mrs. Halpert is resting.”
Looking up at Amelia, he said, “Charles can explain everything that happened tonight. I must go to her.”
Bemused, Amelia agreed. “Yes, of course. Go.”
Andrew hurried toward the house, leaving Amelia and Charles behind in the warm evening air. Light spilled out of the windows and glowed over the ground in front of them, but they were shrouded in a blanket of darkness. The door closed behind Andrew, and she turned the events over in her mind. She couldn’t imagine why Charles hadn’t cared, why he had not run to see Mrs. Halpert himself. It was almost as if Mrs. Fowler had been correct, and Andrew loved—
“Charles,” she said, turning toward him suddenly. His face was creased with exhaustion, but he perked up at her attention, giving her a kind, attentive smile. “Why did Andrew…that is to say, do you think he might…”
Charles blinked back at her, waiting, but she could not bring herself to say the words aloud.
“What is it you are asking, Amelia?”
“Well,” she said, smoothing her hair away from her face. It occurred to her that she likely looked horrifically ragged but given her exhaustion after the events of the evening, she did not care as much as she ought. “Mrs. Fowler mentioned her belief that Andrew loves Mrs. Halpert. But I thought it could not be true.”
He looked amused. “You do not believe a man who spends as much time in a woman’s presence as he did with Mrs. Halpert might grow to have feelings for her? It was my understanding that Andrew could often be found passing an evening with her.”
“Yes, he could. As could I. He did take that chessboard up to her room and was there more often than not, but I didn’t think he was growing an attachment to the woman; I assumed he was only attempting to alleviate her boredom.”
“Trust me, Amelia. A man does not purposefully spend so much time in any woman’s company unless he has feelings for her,” Charles said, his voice dropping.
Her stomach clenched, hope seeping in and quickening her pulse. “But you spent quite a lot of time with her. I thought it was you who harbored feelings for the widow.” She clamped her mouth closed, dreadfully aware of how plainly she had spoken.
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze piercing into her. “I do harbor feelings for a widow, but not Mrs. Halpert.”
Amelia sucked in a breath, the implications soothing her like warm summer rain. The way he looked at her, their history, his lack of feelings for Mrs. Halpert…this truly could only mean one thing. Charles was saying that he still cared for her. Her elation died swiftly. Mrs. Fowler’s beliefs aside, how could Amelia act on any of these feelings? She stepped back, needing to put space between them, and shook her head.
