Chapter Seven
It really was the strangest thing. The first night Henry had walked—more accurately, collapsed—back to the King’s Head, he had lain on the small bed for at least an hour.
Partly from exhaustion. But partly because he had been forced to argue with himself, completely silently, about returning to the Banfield forge the next morning.
It simply had not felt worth it. Everything within him ached, his hands hurt, and Miss Banfield had most decidedly embarrassed him.
“Give me some room.”
“Minny Banfield, you astonish me. How did you do that?”
And the enterprise did not appear to be getting him any closer to discovering whether she was part of the secret chain of gossip. Lies. Scandal.
Which was why Henry felt a bit of a fool. Because today, just a week later—no, was it more than a week?—he could hardly prevent a smile creeping up his lips as he descended the stairs into the King’s Head dining area.
He would see her soon. Just a few minutes, then—
“Ah, someone’s got a spring in their step,” said Ted with a nod.
Henry tried not to smile. As though he could stop himself. As though the thought of being closer to Minny could in any way be extinguished.
It was maddening. All these social niceties, all keeping him from—
“Minny working you hard?”
Henry answered honestly. “Harder than I have ever worked in my life.”
The older man nodded appreciatively. “Yes, it’s a hard life, working in a forge. We all thought she would give it up, see. After her father died.”
Henry nodded and hesitated by the door. Yes, he wished to see Minny again swiftly—precisely why, he could not admit to himself. Not yet.
But he could not miss this opportunity to learn more about her…about her family. About this brother she evidently had no wish to speak of.
“It must have been difficult. Taking on such a responsibility.”
Ted nodded sagely. “Ah, she knew what she was doing alright, o’course, old Banfield taught her well. But it’s different, isn’t it, a woman being out there on her own.”
Henry swallowed. The thought had occurred to him when he had realized, just yesterday, that Minny slept over the forge on her own.
It should not have come as a great surprise. It was not as though he had seen any servants, companions, even visitors beyond customers. It was clear she was alone.
But the idea of Minny being unprotected…
It had been all Henry could do to force himself to return to the King’s Head that night.
“But there was a brother, I thought,” Henry said, gently prodding the older man in the hope of additional information.
Information he received, though not through words. Ted’s face darkened, a scowl crinkling his forehead, and he spat onto the floor.
“We don’t speak of ’im,” he said darkly before nodding his head. “Good day, sir.”
And that was that. Henry was not so blind as to ignore the obvious dismissal. He nodded and stepped out of the warm pub into the brisk early morning air.
He breathed in deeply, prickles of cold searing the inside of his lungs. Had he ever been up this early at home? When living, he thought ruefully, as a duke?
It was as though these early hours had not existed. At least, he had seen them a few times…from the other direction. All too easy when frequenting the Dulverton Club.
But experience them like this? Fresh air, fresh lungs, sharp mind?
That was why his heart was singing, Henry thought as he strode over the village green toward the blacksmith’s. The only reason, not a pretty young woman with more strength than he knew what to do with.
“There you are,” said Minny without looking up as he stepped into the forge. “I thought I was going to have to send out a search party.”
Henry grinned. “Missed me?”
She turned at that remark, a look of sharp reproval in her eyes. “No.”
Henry’s grin broadened.
Minny Banfield may be the expert on furnaces and chopping wood and smithing and knowing precisely how hard to hit something…
But he knew ladies. He knew all the little patter they liked to hear, the way he could suggest more with his silent eyes than some pups could splutter in twenty minutes.
And he knew what women looked like when they liked what they looked at.
Minny liked him. Of that, he was sure. The trouble was, Henry thought wryly, he liked what he saw, too—far too much.
That stolen kiss had taken them both by surprise. If he was going to keep his head clear and discover the secrets of this gossiping network, he needed to stay alert.
Stay away from the tempting lips of Minny Banfield.
“So, what is the lesson today?” Henry said, just a touch more formally. He saw her shoulders relax and wished to goodness he could kiss her senseless. “More fire laying?”
It had been an important lesson she had told him repeatedly as Henry had complained of the repetition the last two days.
“Laying a fire in a grate is one thing but laying a fire in a furnace is quite another,” she had said only yesterday. “One heats you—but my forge heats me, feeds me, keeps a roof above my head.”
“Clever fire,” Henry had quipped.
He had earned a gentle nudge on the arm for that. It had been all Henry could manage not to try another quip just to feel her soft fingers against his skin again.
“No, I think we have done fires quite to death,” Minny said sweetly. “You took to it quite quickly, in truth.”
There was a dancing glint in her eyes that made Henry’s mouth fall open. “You—you made me build those fires over and over again, until I—”
“Well, it’s not a job I particularly like, I will admit,” the laughing woman said as she banked the fire and closed up the furnace. “It was far more pleasant letting you worry about getting all dirty.”
Henry shook his with frank amusement. It was difficult not to be impressed. He’d had an inkling, the first few days of his time here, that Minny was merely using him as an errand boy, a boot room boy, like he had at Dulverton Manor.
And here she was, confirming it!
Wiley woman. If only she did not do such a thing with such evident enjoyment of his discomfort and a teasing promise of a kiss on her lips.
Henry’s stomach jolted. Blast. He mustn’t think of—
“Come on,” said Minny abruptly, striding out of the forge.
Henry blinked. Then he followed. “Wait—Minny, wait!”
He ran into her as he stepped into the comparatively blinding light of the outdoors.
Thrusting his hands out to prevent himself from toppling over her—not that it would be the end of the world—Henry was rather delighted to find Minny accidentally in his arms.
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes widened. “Henry—”
“Yes?” Henry breathed.
If she thought he was going to release her after she breathed his name, she was very much mistaken. His blood was pounding, temptation rising to the surface, and it was all he could do not to—
“Miss Banfield, good morning!”
Minny stepped away as though she had been scalded. “Reverend Pinkerton! How pleasant to see you.”
Henry blinked, trying to get back his bearings. As Minny stepped away, all center of balance had been shaken, his balance knocked. The world seemed off-center, and it took him almost a full minute—while Minny chattered away nonchalantly to the vicar—to find his footing.
“—servant you have there,” the Reverend Pinkerton was saying.
Henry’s gaze snapped to Minny, who was evidently trying not to laugh. “Oh, he’s no servant, sir, he’s not nearly clever enough for that. I’m using him as an odd-job man.”
A prickle of irritation mingled with delight seared his heart. Oh, she was, was she?
He had never been on a teasing footing with a lady before. One learned not to; it could give rise to speculation, and before you knew it, you were tied to her forever after a hasty marriage her father had insisted on.
God forbid he end up falling into that trap.
But this…this was different. As their eyes met, a frisson rocked through him. It was all he could do not to pull Minny away from the polite vicar and demand to know…
Everything. Oh God, he wanted to know everything about her. Taste every—
“—must be going now,” Minny said, interrupting his thoughts. “Come on, Mr. Everleigh.”
And she did something he could never have predicted. She slipped her hand into his arm and started walking along the street.
Henry managed to put one foot in front of the other but it was a close run thing. Every iota of his concentration was fixed on the small part of his arm where he and she interconnected. His arm was warm, growing warmer with every step…
Minny walked alongside him as though this was all perfectly natural. There was such elegance, such carefree grace in the way she guided him down a lane, his breath was stolen.
Oh, with a woman like this by his side…
“I must apologize for the Reverend Pinkerton,” Minny said airily. “Thinking you were a servant when you are really a miscreant hiding out in my forge, the idea!”
She grinned, and Henry smiled weakly back. So, that was what she thought, was it?
“How did you guess?” he said warily.
Minny shrugged as they slowed by what had to be stables, by the smell. “Oh, it was not so difficult. A man with money but no trade, interested in hiding in a blacksmith’s in a village in the middle of nowhere? Do you think I’m a fool?”
Henry swallowed. No, but he was. That would have been the perfect excuse, of course. It seemed obvious when she said it.
“You won’t tell anyone?”
Minny’s dancing eyes grew serious for a moment. “It’s…well, your life is your own, I say. Whatever mistakes you’ve made, I’m sure you’ve paid for them.”
Now that was an interesting thought. Mistakes? Henry was not sure he had ever made a mistake in his life. Not a proper one.
Deciding to challenge old Martock to a drinking contest just before he went to France was not a mistake, not really. More the precursor to a fantastic story.
Still, Minny did not know that. For all she knew, he was a dangerous criminal on the run.
And his heart flickered painfully as she said softly, “I’m not one to punish a man for his nature.”
“What do you—”
“Ah, Mr. Anthony, I am sorry for being late, but here we are,” said Minny breezily.