Chapter Sixteen
It took Minny but five seconds for the anger to cool into pure liquid rage.
“I return to London immediately. Expect to hear from my lawyers.”
The—the audacity! How dare the man speak to her like that—if he even was a duke, which she doubted.
The door she had momentarily slammed opened again and Minny stepped through it, every step crackling with anger.
She was not going to permit any man, let alone one who had done…done that to her on her very own anvil just yesterday, speak to her like that!
The figure of Henry Everleigh—or, Minny thought darkly, his royal dukeness, or whatever she was supposed to call him—had not traveled far down the street. In fact, it only took five paces to grab his collar and start dragging him back to the forge.
“Hell’s bells, what the—Minny!”
“Save your breath,” Minny said menacingly. “This conversation is not finished.”
Henry tried to twist out of her grip, but she was not going to make it that easy for him. Years of working in the forge had given her great strength in her fingers, and Minny was rather delighted, in truth, to find she was more than a match for the struggling man.
Man? Gentleman. Duke.
Dear Lord, this was going to get complicated.
Still, there was simplicity in the small things. Like, for example, how satisfying it was to thrust Henry into the forge and slam the door.
Minny leaned against it and looked at the man who only last night she had thought…
Well. If he could shout such things at her, if he was against the works he was doing, then he was not a man she wished to be associated with.
Nonetheless, she thought wildly as she glared at the man who stepped toward her as though to intimate her into getting out of the way, she would have her moment. Henry had spoken over her, not given her any opportunity to explain.
“Let me out, you fool,” snapped Henry.
“I am no fool, and I am not going to permit you to leave my presence until I have had my say,” Minny returned with just as much vehemence. “You think—”
“I think precisely what anyone else would think—that what you do is abominable, unacceptable in polite Society!”
Minny laughed bitterly. “Oh yes, I know what I do is not accepted by polite Society, but my convictions tell me—”
“Your convictions must be torrid indeed if you believe what you do worthy!” Henry snapped.
Minny stared. This was outrageous! She performed a service, a great service.
Had she not risked her life, several times, to ensure the messages her brother needed to share were passed on?
Though the world may condemn them, she would not betray them, nor accept she did anything wrong in helping them.
“What I do is honorable,” she said, jutting out her chin and looking into the fierce gaze of a man who, just an hour ago, had adored her. “Even knowing your disdain for me, I would do it again in a heart—”
“I don’t need to listen to this,” Henry said, turning toward the kitchen.
Minny was not sure what made her do it. Perhaps it was the righteous anger rushing through her veins, or the sardonic way he spoke to her.
Perhaps it was the wild sense that he had lied to her, lied about who he was.
Perhaps it was the sense their conversation had been unequal and she was due her turn to explain.
Whatever it was, it spurred Minny on to shout, “You would uncover my brother and end his life?”
The words rang about the forge. She hated them, hated she’d had to say them—but she had no choice.
Henry halted. He turned slowly and examined her for a moment before saying, “There is no death sentence I am aware of for spreading rumors and lies.”
Minny blinked. Rumors and—“What on earth are you talking about?”
The last few minutes rushed through her mind swiftly as she attempted to discern what on earth the man—the duke could be talking of. Rumors and lies? Why, the only messages she had shared or passed on were those of love. What could the man be thinking?
“I am speaking,” Henry said slowly, as though she was both hard of hearing and hard of thinking, “of the messages you are sending to London about my sister!”
The words hung in the air. Minny waited for them to make sense, but no matter how long she paused, they did not. “Your…your sister?”
Henry nodded abruptly. “Yes.”
“But…” Minny tried to collect herself, tried to understand this misunderstanding.
Sister? She had never heard of an Everleigh before Henry—and given the nature of the notes she passed on, the likelihood of them even mentioning a woman…
“I…I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” Minny said helplessly, shrugging. “Why would I write about your sister?”
“Because gossip about Lady Margaret Everleigh is lucrative, of course!” Henry growled. “Because her ruined reputation in the gossip columns of London newspapers undoubtedly sells them, and it is my duty to save that reputation!”
Minny stared at him.
Sister? Gossip columns?
Only then did understanding start to dawn, slowly, in her mind.
He thought she was part of some sort of gossip mongers. Oh, dear Lord, how had they managed to get this so tangled?
Minny swallowed as she recalled what Henry had hurled at her mere moments ago.
“You scoundrel. You miser. You cruel harpy—you villain!”
He had it all wrong. But he had not trusted her, believed her, thought of her well enough to doubt for a second that she could be entangled in such a horrendous scheme.
Minny took in a deep breath. Well, whatever she had hoped could be between her and Henry Everleigh was over. She could see that now. He was so swift to believe the very worst of her, how could she believe the best in him?
But she would not permit him to return to London with a false impression. That he would have to leave was not in question. Minny could not bear the thought of him staying at Pathstow, not now they had shared so much. Not now she knew he was a duke.
Not after she revealed what she was about to tell him…
“Henry Everleigh, if you had taken more than five minutes to consider who I am and what I am, you would have realized I would never have been part of such a despicable thing as to slander your sister,” she said evenly. “You dolt.”
The lack of fury in her words took the wind out of Henry’s sails. His shoulders slumped as his eyes widened. “You…you haven’t…you aren’t—”
“If you had bothered to give me the respect of even half your brain,” Minny continued, ice cold stiffness in her tones, “I may have explained to you, right there and then, what I was doing.”
Henry took a step forward. It barely closed the gap between them, but it shot a bolt of panic up Minny’s spine.
If he got too close, she was not sure she would be able to hold to her convictions and stay out of his embrace…
“You haven’t been spreading lies and gossip about my sister?”
Minny snorted. “Not in the slightest. What do I care about the reputation of Lady Everleigh?”
“Margaret.”
“Whatever!”
“But then…” Henry took another step closer, and Minny hoped to goodness her resolve would hold. “Then what have you been doing? For you cannot deny you have been sending messages, Minny.”
Minny fixed a glare upon him. “Miss Banfield.”
She watched him swallow, recalibrate everything he thought he knew about her for the second time that morning. Oh, it was such a muddle—yet he had brought it upon himself. If he had just believed in her goodness…
“Miss Banfield,” Henry said quietly. “What have you been you doing?”
Minny’s heart flickered painfully. She had promised Alan she would never reveal his secret…but surely this was one occasion beyond the norm.
No one could ever have predicted a duke would arrive at Pathstow, pretend to be naught but a man, and work with her in the forge…
“Minny?”
Minny swallowed. She had come too far now. “I am part of a network that passes on messages between men.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
Irritation sparked through her heart. “No, that is not all! ’Tis a dangerous job doing what I do, for the men who are part of this network are…are men who love men.”
There. It was said.
Henry stood there waiting as though expecting further words. When it became clear she was going to speak no more, Minny watched as his mind started to put the words together.
His face fell. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Minny said dryly.
Dear God, it was as though she had admitted she was working for the French! There was incredulity on the man’s face, his handsome features sagging as he tried to understand.
“Y-You mean—”
“Yes, I mean,” snapped Minny. “Goodness, one would think you had never met a molly before!”
“But I—I haven’t!” Henry spluttered. “At least, I have heard of such men, but—”
Minny could not help it. A snort of laughter, dark and mirthless, escaped her lips. “You know, you probably have. You just probably did not realize. It is rare for a molly to reveal himself unless in the presence of friends. True friends.”
Though she wished to drop her gaze, she managed to hold Henry’s as she spoke. She was not ashamed.
“But then you mean that you are acquainted with—”
“My brother,” said Minny, hoping to goodness she would be able to warn him before the duke returned to London. “And my father, I think, though of course there were some things a parent would never share with a child.”
That had done it. Henry’s jaw fell open, his astonishment escaping in a medley of laughter, choking, and spluttering. “B-But that doesn’t—can’t imagine what—you’re sure?”
Minny sighed as she leaned against the door. The anger which had propelled her into this conversation was spent now the words were spoken.
All she had done for her brother, the messages between him and his lover she had shared, the news of raids in Brighton, London, Wells she had warned men of…the loyalty they had shown each other, the affection deeper than what she had seen in the marriages around her.
And here was Henry Everleigh, astonished a man could find affection in the arms of another man.