Page 2 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

Given his soot-covered face, his teeth appeared especially white when he smiled. “Almost never better,” he replied happily.

It was Stella’s turn to blink. “Really?” she remarked dryly. For a moment, she almost allowed her annoyance with him to get the better of her. Relief after experiencing such fright had tears forming in the corners of her eyes, though.

Since Mr. Thompson hadn’t been present during the accident, he also hadn’t paid witness to Darius’s death and quick recovery.

Their secret was still safe.

Darius continued to grin as his attention went to Angus, who had returned to the workshop.

“Mr. Stover says the horses are fine,” he said, referring to the groom. “I’m relieved to see you’re right as rain, sir.”

“I think I’ve discovered the problem, and it will be an easy repair.”

“Very good, sir,” Angus replied, although he didn’t look convinced. “I’ll, uh, see to cleaning this up,” he added, waving to the bits and pieces of shrapnel that lay strewn about the tile floor. The soot in the air had begun to settle, leaving a black film on the contraption they had been building—and everything else in the workshop.

When Darius turned to regard Stella, he winced. As a tear rolled down her cheek, he dipped his head. “I’m very sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said, sniffling. “I’m so relieved you’re both uninjured.”

He glanced in the direction of the corridor from which she had come. “Did anything break?” he asked, taking one of her hands to his lips so he could kiss the back of it.

Stella gave a start before she allowed a long sigh. “One of my Roman glass perfume bottles. The blue one in the parlor. And the admiral fell off the wall again.”

Darius hissed, although she knew it was due to the fate of the ancient bottle and not the admiral. “I’ll find another,” he promised. “A better one. As I recall, that one had a chip on the edge.”

“I’ve had that bottle for over twenty centuries,” she murmured. Despite the passage of time, she still clearly remembered when Darius had given it to her. Filled with her favorite perfume, it had held a place of importance on her dressing table in their villa on the edge of Rome. Over time, she’d had it refilled again and again until a chemist in one of the states comprising the German Confederation questioned the bottle’s origin. Not about to admit how she had acquired it, she simply told him it had been a gift from an admirer.

She never brought it with her to another chemist or perfumer again, electing instead to give it a place of prominence in the most important room of whatever domicile they happened to be inhabiting.

Now she wished it had been in the library. The Aubusson carpet in there might have saved it from shattering.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I will replace it. I promise. Even if I have to…” He waved a soot-covered hand. “Even if I have to steal one from the British Museum.”

Knowing he would keep his word, Stella sighed and nodded. When he was about to pull her into an embrace, she stepped back. “You’re covered in a coating of soot,” she complained. “Coal soot,” she added, sniffling again. “You’ll have to offer Millie an extra coin if you expect your overalls to be cleaned.”

“Millie?” he repeated.

“The laundress. Oh, Darius, you’re absolutely covered in grime,” she complained.

He glanced down and held out his arms to his sides. “Oh, so I am,” he said, as if it were the first time he had noticed. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his face. The white linen came away black with soot, and he winced again. “I suppose I’ll need to take a shower bath.”

“Well, I should hope so,” she agreed. “You’re not coming to dinner or getting into our bed like that.”

When Darius arched a dark brow, the move barely visible given how the rest of his face was still smeared with soot, she felt a frisson of pleasure pass through her lower body. She inhaled softly.

“Perhaps you would like to join me. Wash my back?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Stella glanced to where Angus was using a broom to sweep up the mess. “Your front no doubt needs it more,” she whispered. “When you’ve finished here, darling, come find me.”

“Oh, I will.” He suddenly gave a start. “Why aren’t you at the bookshop?” He fished a watch from his pocket and glanced at it.

“I close at three o’clock on Wednesdays to do the ledgers,” she said. “I would prefer to stay open, but I haven’t yet found a clerk to help in the shop.”

Darius leaned closer. “Because you don’t trust anyone else with your book collection, or—?”

“I haven’t found anyone,” she stated. “Men with knowledge of books don’t want to work for a woman, and the two young ladies I interviewed last week…” She shrugged.

“Let me guess. They didn’t know how to read.”