Chapter Three
“And you say she truly is the blacksmith?” Henry could not help but say.
It was all he could do to keep the incredulity from his voice as he paid for his breakfast—a bowl of porridge that looked as though it had already passed through a dog.
“Oh yes, Minny’s been our blacksmith for a year or more, ain’t she, Ted?” nodded the wife of the owner of the King’s Head.
Henry had managed to find a room there yesterday afternoon after meandering around Pathstow in a state of absolute confusion.
“Find a room.” He had been forced to haggle with Ted, the only name the owner went by, for near on ten minutes before agreeing on a price. Only then did the man admit, gleefully, that the place was empty.
“But a woman!” Henry said in astonishment. “A woman blacksmith!”
Ted raised a grizzled eyebrow. “You don’t have women with brains back in London?”
Henry flushed. It was bad enough to find himself on the back foot in Pathstow, particularly when he wished to impress Banfield, then call him out for his outrageous behavior. It had been awkward having that blasted conversation with Minny—with Miss Banfield yesterday.
She could have knocked him down with a feather when she had revealed she was the owner of that forge…
But the last thing he needed was some country bumpkin acting as though Pathstow was the peak of tolerance!
“I am well aware that women have brains, thank you, Mr. Ted,” Henry said coldly.
He saw the surprise on the older man’s face for just a few moments before realizing he was not, at the King’s Head, the Duke of Dulverton.
No, he was plain old Mr. Henry Everleigh. That meant he could not go around chastising people for their opinions, even if they were ridiculous.
Henry swallowed. It was going to take a great deal of getting used to.
“I just meant,” he said, leaning against the bar in the empty pub, “I did not expect a woman to be doing such a…well. A man’s job.”
Ted’s raised grizzled eyebrow was joined by its partner. “You think a woman isn’t strong enough, then?”
Henry winced at the memory of Minny—of Miss Banfield’s thrusting hand that had shoved him out of the forge. He would have that bruise for a month.
“No,” he conceded.
It was very strange. Precisely why he had been so shocked was obvious; women did not run forges. Women were not blacksmiths. It was just one of those things everyone knew.
The trouble was, now he was sitting and thinking about it, Henry could not exactly explain why. “It had always been that way” did not appear to be a sufficient response, even in the privacy of his own mind.
His jaw tightened.
“I have been told Banfield is the best blacksmith outside London. And I wish to learn from the best.”
She had sounded certain when she had refused him, but he could not just abandon his plan. Coming all the way to Pathstow wasn’t something a gentleman did lightly, and he had his sister to think of. Peg would find her reputations ruined if scandalous lies were once again printed in that rag.
He had to go back to the forge, Henry realized with a sinking heart. He would have to talk to Miss Banfield again and convince her, that was all.
“You’re going back there, aren’t you?”
Henry saw the knowing grin of the pub landlord. “What of it?”
Ted nodded sagely. “A few young men have gone to that forge over the year. Plenty of young men, now I come to think about it.”
A slither of rage, of jealous madness entered Henry’s heart, but he pushed it out as swiftly as it had come.
What was he thinking! He was no father nor brother to defend Miss Banfield’s honor.
No, Henry thought darkly. The feelings he had for Minny were absolutely nothing like those of a brother…
“Yes,” he said aloud. “I am sure there are plenty of men that visit Miss Banfield.”
Was this not the evidence he needed? Why else would men be going to the Pathstow forge all the time, if not to pass messages between her and the newspaper in London?
How Miss Banfield had managed to get herself entangled in such nonsense, Henry could not say. But that was not his concern. His concern was Peggy, his sister, and all the potential suitors she would lose if this nonsense continued much longer.
No, he would have to harden his heart to Minny—damn, Miss Banfield—and convince her, somehow, to teach him. The closer he was to the forge, the easier it would be to discover evidence of her dealings with this network. He already had an idea that would change her mind.
“You say hullo to that girl,” said Ted quietly, leaving the bar and walking to a door to the kitchens. “She’s a good girl. Like her father.”
Henry nodded. Perhaps she was, but that had not prevented her from getting enmeshed in a scandal that would break once he had the evidence, by God.
The forge was already alight, though the hour was early. Henry supposed that here, as for the servants at Dulverton Manor, work began when the sun came up. It was nearing summer with every passing day.
He breathed in deeply as he stopped just outside the blacksmith’s. There was something darkly intoxicating about the smoke that billowed from the chimney. Perhaps he was imagining it, but there seemed to be another scent there, mingled with the wood and iron.
Something that made him think of a woman’s glistening skin, the way her chest heaved as her frustration grew…
Henry swallowed. If he was going to make this work, he would have to get a grip on himself. No admiring the woman who was destroying his sister’s reputation. No daydreaming about what it would be like to pull the irritating woman into his arms and stop her protests with a heady kiss.
No. All he had to do was convince a woman, who evidently had no desire to ever set eyes on him again, to take him into her confidence.
As simple as that.
Henry took a deep breath and stepped once more into the forge.
It was stifling hot, much as it had been yesterday—and just like yesterday, his attention was almost immediately taken by the woman standing by the anvil.
Well, standing. Staggering was perhaps a more accurate description.
Without hesitation, without even thinking about whether Minny Banfield would welcome such assistance, Henry lunged forward.
The heavy plough in her hands was slipping, her fingers curling around the edge insufficient to hold it in place, but the moment Henry took the other side, it steadied.
He heard, rather than saw, the heavy sigh.
“Thank God,” came Minny’s voice. “I had thought myself quite up to the task, but I believe I had underestimated its full weight—over here, on the bench, if you do not mind.”
It was remarkably heavy. Henry marveled, back straining and shoulders crying out, at how she had managed to pick the thing up in the first place. It took all his strength to carry it with her over to the bench.
With a groan, Henry placed the plough carefully onto the bench. It was a relief to let go, his fingers aching immediately from the heavy load.
“There,” came Minny’s grateful voice. “Thank you, Mr.…oh. It’s you.”
Henry’s heart sank. Just for a moment, the two of them had been united. Struggling toward the same goal.
But she was not the only one disappointed. His foolish heart had already begun imagining something ridiculous…
Which was impossible. Was he not here because Miss Banfield, who looked all innocent and beautiful and—innocent, Henry caught himself just in time. But who was not innocent in the slightest.
Lady Margaret Everleigh shocks ton by meeting secretly with lover…
Lady Margaret Everleigh suspected to be with child…
Hushed up Dulverton scandal rocks Society…
Henry swallowed the bitter ire that rose as he remembered the headlines which had attempted to slander his sister.
Anyone who could help concoct such fanciful, ruinous stories was not innocent and was certainly not someone he could work with.
Against, yes. But not as partners.
“I told you yesterday, I have no time for an apprentice,” scowled Minny, her words meaningless as Henry tried not to look at her flushed cheeks and parted lips.
Damnit.
“I have no wish to be indentured as an apprentice, so that is all to the good,” said Henry to Minny’s back as she returned to the anvil. “I merely wish to—”
“I said no. Doesn’t a man like you understand a woman when she says no?”
She could not have injured him any more greatly if she had stuck that sickle hanging on the wall right through his chest.
Henry staggered back. To suggest to a gentleman, to a duke no less, that he would be so dishonorable as to ignore a woman’s wishes!
He hesitated, mind rushing to catch up with his disgruntled sense of decency.
Ah. Except, he thought wildly as Minny pumped the bellows, causing a roar of flame to echo around the forge, he was ignoring her wishes. And he was a gentleman, a duke, a member of Society…but she did not know that.
It had been a mistake, really, to tell her his real name. But then, how many people outside of London knew the Duke of Dulverton’s surname was not Dulverton, but Everleigh?
“I know it is April Fool’s Day,” said Minny with a laugh, “but I thought you the fool yesterday. Are you just a permanent fool?”
“That I am not,” Henry said, jaw tightening.
Time to take back control of this situation—as much as he could. Perhaps he would be far better off returning to London and sending an agent in his stead. Someone who knew the first thing about blacksmithing, for example. Or not being a duke.
But he couldn’t leave now. Something he could not explain drew him toward Minny Banfield—what sort of a name was Minny, anyway?—and he could not leave her.
Could not leave the forge, Henry hastily corrected himself. Could not leave the possibility of uncovering the truth of these lies. Could not return to London, tail between his legs, to admit he had been unable to decipher the source of such mischief.
Henry drew himself up. No, if he was going to challenge Minny Banfield on her outrageous behavior, then he had to do something he did rarely, and loathed when the time came to do it.
“I must apologize,” he said stiffly.
Minny gave him not a single glance. “Yes, I suppose you must.”