Page 11 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

He considered the query for a moment. “Not if I were to be the one to… to help get him started. Mayhap as an investor?”

“You don’t need my permission,” she whispered.

Darius chuckled. “I know he’s rather lonely. I think he’d like to marry, but he’s…” He allowed a sigh as he finished with the last button.

Turning around to face him, she angled her head to one side. “Shy?” she guessed.

“Painfully so,” he affirmed. “Might you know any young ladies we could introduce to him?”

Stella shook her head. “Not yet, but… I can certainly keep an eye out. I am still looking for a clerk for the bookshop. Mayhap I can find one woman to suit both roles.”

When his stomach grumbled once again, she tittered. “Come. Let’s get you fed,” she urged. “You can’t be making any decisions when you’re hungry.”

Darius stepped into a pair of bedroom slippers, pulled on his bathrobe, and offered his arm.

As they made their way down the stairs, he was deep in thought. For her part, Stella was trying not to laugh, anticipating Mrs. Crabbe’s reaction to seeing him in his robe and slippers at dinner.

Chapter Five

Books for a Bluestocking

The following day, the Antiquarian Quill, Ave Maria Lane, London

When the bell tinkled above the door to her rare books and folios shop for the second time that morning, Stella set aside the cloth she’d been using to dust a bookshelf. The carpenter who had installed it had just completed attaching a strip of decorative molding at the top, so it matched the other bookshelves already lining the shop’s walls.

“I’m all finished, ma’am. Is there anything else you need done?”

Stella stepped back and regarded the bookshelf with a critical eye, her gaze darting towards the door in an effort to determine if the newest arrival was a customer or someone intent on selling something she didn’t want. “This will do for now, Mr. Miller.”

He gathered his tools into a wooden box. “Have you given any thought to adding shelves upstairs? So you can expand your business onto the second floor?”

Glancing toward the back of the shop where a set of very steep stairs led to the second and third floors of the building, Stella sighed. “I think I should like to keep the business on the first floor,” she replied.

Although an upstairs reading room might be nice, she would require additional staff to keep an eye on the first floor lest someone be tempted to stuff a rare book into their clothing and be off without paying for it.

“Then will you be letting the upper floors as apartments?” The query was filled with anticipation, as if he was hoping she might consider him for the space.

Stella considered the query a moment. “I hadn’t thought to.”

Dipping his head, Mr. Miller said, “I only asked because I think the last owner lived up there,” he explained. “Thought you might be doing the same.”

Scoffing softly, Stella shook her head. “Oh, I have no intention of living on the premises,” she replied. “Not sure I want to let it out, either. It took me a week to clear out the dirt and debris the last owner left behind so I could use it to store the rest of my inventory.”

She remembered the number of times she and Darius had hauled crates of books up the stairs. She had carefully arranged them so that as new bookshelves were installed on the first floor, she could move the books onto the shelves in an orderly and logical arrangement. Once the furniture maker completed the three free-standing bookcases for the middle of the main floor, the remaining books stored upstairs could all come back down to be placed onto the shelves and be available for sale.

Perhaps she would consider a different use for the space at that point.

“I’ll get started on those free-standing bookshelves you asked for later today,” he said, lifting the wooden box from the floor.

“Will you send an invoice for what you’ve done today?”

Mr. Miller fished a paper out of his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her, his expression conveying embarrassment. “If you could see to paying it sooner rather than later, it would be much appreciated.”

Stella glanced at the total and winced. “Will you accept a bill of exchange?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Give me a moment, and I’ll pay you today.” The sound of the bell tinkling above the door had her hurrying to the front of the shop to greet the customer. “Welcome, sir. Are you in search of a particular title?” she asked, her gaze taking in the fashionable greatcoat draped over the gentleman’s arm and the expensive top hat he held in his kid-gloved hand.