Chapter Nineteen #2
Thankfully he would have the rest of his life to grow accustomed to it.
“What a spectacular garden,” Minny said softly.
Henry swelled with pride. It was rather spectacular, if he said so himself.
Though now he came to think about it, it was foolish of him to take such pride in it. It had been his great-grandfather who had landscaped, his grandfather who had planted the trees, and his father had planted the borders.
Well. Their servants.
“I do like it,” he said aloud. “The lawn in summer is particularly useful for cricket and other such pursuits. And there’s the park, of course.”
“Park?”
“Woodland and open grassland, where the deer live.”
Immediately Henry knew he had said something rather ridiculous, for Minny turned and grinned. “Deer?”
“Well, a gentleman has to have some sport,” he said defensively.
Minny giggled. “Yes, I can see it would be dreadfully dull living here otherwise.”
“I don’t know what you—Minny Banfield! Are you cheeking me!”
She turned, leaning against the window with laughter dancing in her eyes. “Absolutely.”
Henry’s heart soared. What had he done to deserve such happiness, such perfect completion in the arms of another?
“No vegetables, though.” Minny gestured to the window. “Very pretty flowers, I am sure, but no vegetables. Now, in my opinion, a garden should have vegetables.”
It was all Henry could do not to smile. “That’s why I have kitchen gardens. So everything you see here is on the west side of the house, but the entirely of the south gardens are kitchen gardens. Apples, pears, carrots, potatoes, leeks—”
Minny laughed with a wry shake of her head. “I suppose I should have expected that. South side of the house, west side of the house…”
She continued to shake her head as she turned back to the window.
Henry’s happiness was momentarily tempered. It was a huge change, he knew. Even before he had returned to fight for her, iron out the mistakes he had made, he had known.
If Minny wished to be a part of his life, it would be here. Not at the forge, the place where she felt most powerful, most at home. No, the Duchess of Dulverton would live here, beside him. A great change for a woman who had always worked for a living.
Was he asking too much of her? Was he demanding such a relinquishment of everything she was that eventually Minny would look around and see not beauty and elegance, but a cage?
Henry swallowed. His voice was serious as he asked, “Do you think you can be happy here?”
When Minny did not immediately respond, continuing to look out across the carefully manicured lawns, his stomach lurched painfully, and all the panic that had swept through him at the thought of losing her the first time reared its ugly head.
He could not live without her—but he was no cad, to force her into a life that could not make her happy. Was he about to lose the only woman he now knew he could love? He could not be without her, he—
There was a wicked smile on Minny’s face. “There’s a village we passed a mile back.”
Henry nodded. It was not precisely the response he had been expecting, but—
“Do they have a smithy?”
What an odd question. “No. Actually, there was talk about a year ago about building one in the hope someone would come and…oh, no. No, Minny, absolutely not!”
Henry groaned as Minny giggled and took his hands in hers.
“It was just an idea! A little smithy, just a mile away, hardly a long walk—”
“You cannot be serious!”
Minny’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I don’t want to lose who I am, and if your village needs a blacksmith…”
Henry sighed, though he knew immediately he would be unable to say no. Not that it would matter. Minny Banfield did what she liked, and he saw no way of stopping her.
Besides, she would be the Duchess of Dulverton. It was hard to say no to a duchess.
“You really are going to test me, aren’t you?” he said amiably.
Minny raised an eyebrow. “Quickest way to test a metal is to place him in the fire.”
Henry groaned. “Yes, I can see that.”
His heart fluttered with all the exciting possibilities. Minny, in a forge of her own a mile from their home. Returning with soot across her hands. Helping her to slowly remove those working clothes—
“But what about your forge?” Henry said, his concentration returning to the matter at hand rather than the delightful imaginary images cascading through his mind. “It was your family forge, you cannot simply give it up.”
Minny sighed. “What am I supposed to do, transport it here?”
“It’s not the worst idea.”
Her astonished look made Henry laugh as he shook his head. She had a great deal to learn about what money could do.
“You think you could—what, transport it brick by brick almost fifty miles?” Minny’s eyes were wide with astonishment.
Henry shrugged. “I suppose it would be possible—if that is what you would like.”
He held his breath as he watched Minny consider. There was something about that forge; it was precious to him, yes, but was a talisman of the life Minny was leaving behind. A proof of the danger she had put herself in, sending messages for her brother and his network.
A reminder he had not always been in her life.
Henry tried to push the thought away. He was no brute, to force his wife to abandon everything she was merely because she was now married! Still, it would be a perpetual reminder if it were to be moved to Dulverton village…
“No,” said Minny decidedly.
Henry sagged with relief. “Good.”
“No, I think I will give it to a friend of mine,” Minny said, squeezing Henry’s hands. “Two friends of mine, actually. A pair of ladies, they have been looking for a way to make a living for themselves, and the work there will not be so arduous with two.”
There was something in the way she spoke that made Henry wonder. Two ladies…two ladies living together, in need of an occupation. If anyone else had said those words, he would likely as not have given them no heed whatsoever. As it was…
“These ladies,” Henry said awkwardly. “They are…friends?”
Minny grinned. “Friends of mine.”
Well, if there was ever anyone better suited to carry out the work that Minny had been doing there—both in the forge, and for the network of those who loved so differently from what he had imagined—a pair of ladies may be the perfect fit.
“I suppose I should expect nothing less than you installing the right people into the place,” he said aloud.
“Quite right, too,” said Minny firmly. “Now, there is one thing in this room I simply do not understand and demand an explanation to.”
This was not what he had expected. Henry nodded, eager to help, eager to make his home as welcome to her as the forge had been to him. Though arguably, a little less dirty.
“Of course—what is it?”
Not taking her eyes from him, Minny pulled Henry toward the capacious bed, covered in silk coverlets, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What on earth is this for?”
Henry chuckled as he pulled her into his arms and started trialing burning kisses down Minny’s neck. “Oh, ’tis a most complicated piece of equipment. Here, let me show you…”