Chapter Three #2
That was not the response he had been expecting.
A muscle twitched in Henry’s jaw. “I must?”
“You were the one who said that,” she pointed out, taking a sickle from the wall and examining it. “Not I.”
Was it the smithy or the blacksmith’s presence tying his tongue in knots, making every thought dart in random directions?
“I should not have been so presumptuous,” Henry began again.
At the word “presumptuous,” Minny looked up in surprise.
Ah. Right. He was supposed to be a relatively unlettered, uncouth sort of chap, with no idea what manners were, let alone how to address an earl, a viscount, and a major around a table of whist.
He tried again. “I should not have been a complete ass.”
Minny stifled a laugh. The sight of her grinning made Henry’s stomach twist in a far too delicious way.
Do not get distracted, man.
“I should have seen the talent with which you operate—you hit things,” Henry adjusted once again. “Besides, I have asked about the village, and you are held in very high repute. For a woman.”
There was another stifled laugh. “I am delighted to find you have discovered I am acceptable. For a woman.”
Henry silently cursed his foolish tongue. “You know what I mean.”
“I suppose I do,” said Minny, laying the sickle on the anvil before placing her hands on her hips and examining him.
“You’re saying you were an ass, an idiot, a fool of the greatest degree, a moron who refused to listen to what a woman told him, then refused to believe the truth his own eyes showed him. Is that it?”
Henry swallowed a significant amount of pride. “Yes.”
Minny’s hair shone in the firelight sparking from the furnace, and it was that which drew his attention as he waited in silence.
That, and the way her hands softly sank into the curves of her hips. Damnit man, you ought to be concentrating!
“Well,” she said softly, evidently mollified. “That’s better. I am glad to see some sense can be forced into that brain of yours.”
Henry tried not to think how swiftly his Cambridge dons would have agreed with her, and pushed forward with his advantage. “Wonderful. Now you can—”
“I am not teaching you the ways of the forge,” said Minny with a heavy sense of finality. “Good day, sir.”
Her attention slipped once more from him to the sickle. It was ridiculous really, he thought wretchedly. Envious of a lump of metal.
But he could not help it. He wanted to be examined by Minny, be drawn near to her. Wanted her focus, her concentration. Wanted her to reach forward with light fingers and gently caress—
“You’re still here.”
Henry drew himself up. “I am not going anywhere.”
“In that case, you’re going to get very hot and watch a woman work very hard,” said Minny lightly. “I would have thought a man like you would have better things to do. Like earn a living of your own.”
The Duchy of Dulverton had an annual income of twenty thousand pounds a year.
Henry had worked hard to increase it, though his father had left the estate in a reasonably good sense of repair, and he was hopeful that some investments into cotton, a fabric one kept hearing praised, would eventually show dividends.
“Yes,” he said uncertainly. “A living.”
Minny turned away to pick up a hammer, one a little larger than the one she had thrust in his general direction yesterday. Henry watched as she laid the sickle in the flames, her hands moving swiftly around the metal.
There was something rather intoxicating about watching someone at work who truly knew what they were doing. Henry had discovered this while fencing. The way a person who was absolutely convinced of their own superiority—and could back it up with action—moved through space was mesmerizing.
Minny Banfield had the exact same manner as old Chantmarle. Without looking at him, as though he had disappeared from the world, she waited until a particular moment in time that looked to Henry just like any other.
Then she swiftly removed the sickle from the fire, placed it on the anvil, and lifted the hammer over her head.
Clang!
The noise reverberated around Henry’s mind as well as the forge as he watched in amazement at the skill of the woman before him.
Clang!
Every hit, every tap was considered. Minny’s eyes were narrowed as she focused entirely on the task before her, knocking out nicks too small for Henry’s eyes to see.
“The trouble is,” she said in a low voice under the clatter and clanging of her craft, “I have a village full of these, and horse shoes, and the plough, and nails—and no time for teaching.”
In a sudden rush, she lifted the sickle and plunged it into the water in a butt beside her. The hissing and spluttering continued for a good while as she looked up, forehead puckered and eyes bright.
Henry swallowed. Dear God, she was magnificent. “I can pay you. Lots.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Suspicion crowded the previously unadulterated joy that had suffused Minny’s face. “Yes, you mentioned money yesterday. Why? What do you want—and how does a man like you have money to waste, anyway?”
They were excellent questions, ones that in any other circumstance, Henry would have been unable to answer.
But he had seen the gleam in her eyes. Had seen it yesterday and saw it again today as he mentioned the money he was willing to give her for her time and expertise.
Here was a woman, Henry reasoned, who needed money. Who could not turn down money offered with very little effort. Who would consider him a fool for offering it, but a rich fool.
A rich fool was easily taken advantage of in London. Surely Pathstow could not be much different.
Minny lifted the sickle and examined it closely, using it as a distraction while she thought.
Henry’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to force his lungs to move as he waited.
It was because of Peggy, he told himself, that this mattered so much. Because of his sister.
Certainly not because leaving Miss Minny Banfield’s presence was starting to feel like a punishment, one he dearly would avoid at all costs.
He had to find the proof of her passing information to the newspaper.
“How long do you want to learn for?” she asked slowly, lowering the sickle onto the anvil.
A spark of hope rushed through Henry’s chest. “Weeks. A few months maybe, at the most. I will then have to return to my…family.”
Minny’s gaze was sharp as it looked him up and down. “They don’t mind being without you for that time?”
Henry tried not to think about the note he had left with Mrs. Coolidge, their housekeeper.
Pegs would have read it by now and would surely expect him to reappear soon enough to accompany her to her next invitation.
She may even go alone. Even though it would mean she would surely receive the cut from anyone in the ton.
Until he proved these scandalous rumors false, his sister would have to suffer that indignity. That was why he was here.
Outrageously pretty blacksmiths, notwithstanding.
“They will understand,” Henry said, hoping rather than believing his statement to be true. “So, you will teach me, then?”
The decision warred in her eyes, bright and shining in the glow of the furnace, but Henry saw her shoulders slump in defeat before she spoke. He had won.
“Fine,” Minny said darkly. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”