Page 44 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

“A granite block.”

For a moment, Angus was confused. “I take it you require it for another project?”

“Indeed. I wish to carve a gravestone for Miss O’Connor’s brother.”

“I thought those were made of marble,” Angus said, a look of confusion evident on his face.

“Usually they are,” Darius acknowledged. “When I last bought flowers for Mrs. Agremon, I was studying the columns in the Covent Garden Market. They’re carved from granite. I made inquiries and discovered the stone was quarried in Aberdeenshire.”

“In Scotland?”

Darius nodded. “I sent word with a footman I was in need of a small block last Friday, and I received a note from an office near the pier that they were expecting a shipment today from Aberdeen.” He turned his head, attempting to confirm the engine was shutting down.

“I can fetch it for you, sir,” Angus said.

“Capital.”

The vehicle slowed to a halt just beyond the gates to the back garden. “Give me a hand backing this into the workshop, and you can leave early if you’d like. I think you’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Angus stepped out of the vehicle and placed the water can back on the bench. “What part of the vehicle should I push against?” he asked, not wanting to damage any of the sheeting that hid the chassis framework from view.

“Go to the very front. I’ll push from the side and handle the steering,” Darius replied.

Angus did his bidding and placed his palms against an area in front of where he knew there was an iron bar hidden by the sheeting.

“We may have to weld handles onto the chassis until we can sort a different means to back this up,” Darius remarked as he hopped out. “It would be terribly inconvenient to have to do this by yourself,” he mused. He turned and placed his hand against the framework behind the driver’s bench. “Push!” he shouted.

Angus did so, worried the heavy vehicle would require the addition of a horse to pull it back into the workshop. The chassis moved, though, the front wheels easily turning until its back wheels were nearly aligned with how the vehicle had originally been parked inside the workshop.

Darius straightened the steering arc while he continued to push. A moment later, the vehicle was back in place.

“I do believe I have a new project I must work on,” he remarked. He placed his hands on his hips and regarded the vehicle with an expression of disappointment.

“Sir?”

“Powered reverse,” Darius replied. “We need it for parking.”

“Oh, of course,” Angus replied. “It might come in handy out on the streets, too, should you get caught in a jam.” Although collisions between two horse-drawn vehicles were rare, they did happen, usually resulting in traffic becoming snarled in several directions. Attempting to back up horses when they were hitched to a town coach or dog cart was difficult. “Mayhap a second drive shaft? That can be engaged by means of a switch?” he suggested.

“Or a lever,” Darius murmured. “Well, I’ll sort what has to be done for that. Meanwhile, it’s half past one. If you leave now, you can make it to Covent Garden Market by two o’clock.”

Angus gave a start. “Sir?”

“It’s not a requirement of course, but if you were of a mind to see Miss O’Connor again, she should be done selling flowers by then,” he commented. “You could offer her a ride to the bookshop,” he added, waggling his dark brows.

Angus felt his heart begin to race. “It’s on the way… for the most part,” he replied, still a bit breathless from pushing the vehicle into the workshop. He removed his cap and wiped his brow with a gloved hand. “You don’t think it would be too… too forward of me?”

“I don’t see how. You’ve helped her move. You asked her to join you for supper. You obviously like her,” Darius replied. “Or have you changed your mind about courting her?”

Angus felt the heat of embarrassment color his neck. “C-c-courting her?” he stammered, and swallowed as his mouth seemed to become dry. “I… I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Liar,” Darius teased. “I thought you wanted a wife?”

“Oh, I do, sir.” He dipped his head. “But she’s so…” He paused and swallowed.

“So… what?” Darius prompted, his brows furrowing.

“Comely, sir.”