Epilogue
“Ready?” Minny’s voice almost vibrated with excitement.
It had taken a great deal of planning to get here—planning and intrigue.
But when one had friends all over the country in a large network dedicated to love, it was not impossible to organize what felt like the impossible.
Still. She was rather surprised Henry had been willing to wear the blindfold for the last hour or so.
“Ready for what?” came Henry’s voice with confusion.
Minny rolled her eyes, excitement propelling her forward with a fizz in her chest.
“Ready to descend the carriage, of course,” she said, brushing back a curl of hair threatening to drop over her eyes. “Here, take my hands.”
It had been difficult to persuade Henry to come with her on a mysterious journey of two days. At least, Minny corrected, it had been easy to persuade Henry. It had been difficult to persuade the Duke of Dulverton.
“A duke,” he had told her only three days ago, “has responsibilities!”
“Yes,” Minny had reminded him. “And some of those responsibilities are to me…”
It was a relief, really, he had agreed to come with her. So much planning had gone into the whole thing, Minny was not sure she could ever face her brother if the whole thing had been called off.
“Careful,” she said as she gently guided Henry down from the carriage.
He snorted. “How on earth can I be careful with you placing this blindfold on my face—and by the way, I think it most outrageous thing that you have done so!”
“I am sure you do,” Minny said cheerfully, helping him to step blindly forward.
There, that should do. He would have the perfect view when she finally removed the blindfold.
Exhilaration poured through her chest. When he saw what she had done…
“Our wedding is in just a week, you know,” said Henry, turning his head this way and that as though that would help him see. “We have much to do, much to prepare—the last thing we need is an excuse to gallivant about the place! Where are we, anyway?”
Minny tried to keep the anticipation from her voice as she released his hands. “Our wedding isn’t in a week.”
Even under the blindfold, she could see a look of panic rush across her future husband’s face. “It—it isn’t? Minny, if I have offended you by something I have said or done, you must tell me so I can apol—”
“Our wedding,” Minny said softly, tugging apart the knot of his blindfold, “is today.”
She held her breath and tangled the cotton blindfold in her fingers as Henry blinked in the early morning air.
His eyes focused on what was before them. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes,” said Minny happily.
“No!”
“Absolutely.”
Henry turned his gaze wildly to her. “You haven’t—”
“I absolutely have,” Minny said with a laugh, joy swooping in her stomach.
He groaned, though a smile was already appearing. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Perhaps not,” she admitted, though now she had seen his reaction, it was impossible to regret her choice. “But there we are.”
“But my sister—the church! Lord, all the invitations have been sent, even Lady Romeril has deigned to—”
“All the more reason,” said Minny, leaning against the village sign that carefully spelt Gretna Green, “to marry here.”
Henry laughed as she embraced him, pouring into the connection all the eagerness she had forced herself to keep silent on their journey.
It was perfect; she was certain he would see that. Once he got used to the idea, Minny thought impishly. He would see just how perfect it was.
“I don’t know why I am so surprised,” Henry said ruefully, still shaking his head. “I should have guessed something was up when you paid little heed to your bridal gown fitting.”
Minny made a face. “All that lace!”
“It is expected of a duchess, you know,” he reminded her.
The sound of the word caused a lurch in her chest Minny could not ignore. Duchess. Yes, she would become a duchess in just a few minutes. But that did not mean she had to act like a duchess before that, did she?
She was a blacksmith. If there was ever a day to be a blacksmith, it was her wedding day.
“You are truly not angry?” Minny asked.
Henry kissed her forehead as his hands slipped to her buttocks. “How could I ever be angry at you?”
“Quite easily, as it turns out.”
“Oh, hush,” he said good naturedly, striding forward with Minny beside him, his arm still around her. “This is…well, certainly not what I had expected…”
Minny grinned as they walked through the small, sleepy village in the direction of the gentle hammering which grew louder with every step. “Good.”
Perhaps she should have spoken about it with him beforehand. He might have agreed with her—that the frivolities of a ducal wedding were starting to get far more ridiculous than even she had dreamed.
Oh, a simple wedding, where one walked to church—or as it happened, the anvil—on a bright summer day, with her future husband’s arm around her…
That was all Minny had wanted. When she had thought about it at all, of course. She’d had more than enough time to think about it in the last few weeks, and with Peg’s help, she had managed it.
She was going to be a handful, that sister-in-law of hers.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself.” Henry’s words brought her from her reverie.
Minny grinned as they turned a corner and saw the smithy. “Very.”
He laughed. “You know, you never cease to amaze me.”
“Good! I was starting to worry that I would have nothing to teach you,” she admitted as they reached the forge door.
And for some reason, Henry halted there. “Truly?”
Minny swallowed. She was still growing accustomed to revealing her vulnerabilities, her insecurities. A woman living on her own, even in a respectable village like Pathstow, could not broadcast her concerns too widely.
Strength and fire. That was what she had clung to.
For too long. Now it was time, as she looked into the loving eyes of Henry Everleigh, Duke of Dulverton, to melt.
“Truly,” she admitted. “I like the idea of teaching you, of having some sort of wisdom or knowledge that you don’t.”
Henry nodded. “Well, I think you’re safe there.”
Minny frowned. “I am?”
“Not only will I never be able to perfect the horse shoe—I don’t know what it is, I seem to have a block about the damned thing,” he said with a smile, “but I have another teacher now.”
It was such an unexpected statement for her beloved to make that Minny found herself stepping away. “I beg your pardon?”
“Not like that!” Henry said hastily, raising his hands in the all too familiar sign of surrender.
“No, I just meant—I have taken up fencing! Again, I suppose, I was taught as a boy but I was truly terrible, even Peg was better than—I have a friend, a duke actually, who is teaching fencing. Will be, at least, when he returns to London. Whenever that is.”
Minny hesitated, trying to take in the rush of words. “A duke teaching fencing?”
Henry sighed, and a shadow crept over his face. “He had a terrible time in the war. Oh, what he saw there…anyway, he is in Oxford at the moment recovering and then will return to London, I am sure. I thought, while we try to keep Peg under control—”
“Easier said than done.”
“—I thought I would take up fencing again,” Henry finished. “Do not fear, you have no true competition—unless you are about to reveal you can fence as well as you can forge.”
Minny laughed, all joy restored. She had been foolish to think Henry—no, he was loyal to a fault, was this man. If his sister could put him through such a painful time, she was likely to have Henry’s loyalty for the rest of her life.
“You were jealous.”
“I was not,” she said instinctively. “Well. Maybe. But I will admit, I will not be able to teach you to fight with swords. Though I can teach you to make them.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “What?”
Minny nudged him. “Look at you, with your uncouth ways!”
“I mean, I beg your pardon!” he corrected with a slight red appearing in his cheeks. “You can make swords?”
Sometimes he would astonish her. But sometimes…
“I am a blacksmith, aren’t I?” she pointed out. “Now, there is one more thing before we go in there.”
A villager walked past them, a knowing look on her eyes as she glanced at them.
Henry shook his head as she turned a corner. “The arrogance of the woman! Why, she assumes we are here because we have been careless and got you with child!”
Minny cleared her throat.
“Little does she know that we love each other,” he continued staunchly. “We would not be so thoughtless as to fall with a child before we were wed.”
A strange sort of tingling was spreading up Minny’s spine, rising slowly with every foolish word her wonderful duke was saying. Oh, she could not have dreamt of a better moment! Gifted to her perfectly, this was the time to—
“As if we would be so foolish!” Henry said with a hearty sniff. “After all, I—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Minny had tried her best to hide her smile, but it was almost impossible with him going on like that, speaking such nonsense.
“Oh, nothing,” she said airily, watching his face closely for every reaction. “It’s just that I am with child. That’s all.”
It was perhaps a good thing they were standing so close to the smithy, for at her words, Henry reached out a hand and clutched the wall.
“No,” he breathed.
Minny swallowed. Henry’s face was pale, his eyes wide, and his mouth gaping like a fish. Had she struck too soon? Ought she have waited until they were actually married before revealing such—
“Oh, Minny!”
And then she had no breath to think. Henry had pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely on the mouth, his hands clutching her as though she was the most precious gold.
Sizzles of delight rushed through her, and Minny gave herself entirely to the kiss, clinging to the man she loved.
Eventually, she knew not how, she managed to release herself. “You are not angry?”
“Angry?” repeated Henry, his eyes wild. “That there’ll be a little one of you and a little one of me out in the world by the year’s end?”
“Forged in fire,” she said wryly.
“And more welcome than any forge, I can tell you that,” he said with a laugh. “Is this why you rushed me up here?”
“Well, partly,” Minny conceded. “A week will make all the difference to explaining why this little one has come ‘early,’ after all.”
Wild excitement was clearly still rushing through Henry’s mind, and she watched, basking in the way he was taking in the news.
A baby. A family, forged perhaps in a stranger way than most. A proof of their passion for each other, and a child who could be raised in a world, Minny hoped, where love of all kinds was cherished and valued.
Henry pulled a hand through his hair. “I suppose I should make an honest woman of you!”
“If you don’t mind,” said another voice with a tinge of mockery. “I wish that you would! Come on, stop clogging up my door.”
Minny whirled around to see the blacksmith standing in the doorway—a door that had opened, apparently without either of them hearing it.
Heat flushed her cheeks, though that could be the heat pouring through from the forge. Her heart softened. How could she be uncertain in a forge?
“After you, my lady,” Henry bowed, extending his hand.
Minny could not help but smile as she stepped into the forge. There was something so comforting about a place like this, so like her own—though there were a few differences.
“How fascinating,” she said, stepping away from Henry who had followed her, and toward the rack of tools. “You use several—”
“Minny,” Henry said. “We are here to get married, not compare notes on anvils.”
Guilt twisted her heart as she turned round to see the blacksmith raise a curious eye. “Yes. Yes, of course—though afterward, perhaps, you could tell me—”
“Minny Banfield, come here and marry me at once!” said Henry, frowning with that imperious command that she had spotted when she had first met him.
And her insides melted. How could she think of anything when Henry was here? The man she loved, craved, that she would argue with and make up with all the days of her life?
Giving no thought to how it may look, Minny strode across the forge, met Henry in the middle, and kissed him impetuously at the anvil.
“Nice anvil,” she said without taking her gaze from him. “I’m having mine transported to Dulverton.”
“Not going to leave it behind for your…friends?”
Minny’s smile became mischievous as the blacksmith took their hands and placed them together. Henry’s callouses were starting to fade already, but the impact their time together in the forge would never cool.
“Certainly not,” Minny said, hoping he could see precisely what she was thinking by the sparkle of her eyes. “Not after what you and I shared on that anvil.”
And she reveled in the way he groaned, unable to say anything in response as the blacksmith began the speech that would make them husband and wife.