Page 52 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

She continued reading.

I would have thought by now that war would be different. That we would have learned from past mistakes and do this better. Be more strategic. Not so willing to treat our soldiers as if they were merely pawns on a chessboard, knocked over, and cast off without another thought.

Although I have always agreed officers must be visible to their men, sitting atop a horse makes targeting officers so much easier. I was shot yesterday (fear not, I did not die, and I have recovered). Thank the gods my horse was not injured.

I have been summoned and so must end this.

I love you with all my heart.

D.

Unaware tears were suddenly streaming down her face, Stella blinked several times and gave a start when a tear plopped onto the middle of the letter.

“Oh!” she cried out, quickly blotting the wet spot with a cloth. Despite the care she took, the ink still smeared. “Damnation,” she muttered.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Agremon?”

Stella inhaled softly and turned to discover Iris at the door, a look of alarm marring her youthful features. “I am,” she said, quickly wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

The young woman dipped her head. “I… I knocked, but I don’t think you heard me. Mr. Agremon has come for you.”

Stella swallowed a sob. “Already?” She glanced at the clock on her desk and inhaled sharply, wondering how an hour could have passed so quickly. “Thank you, Iris.” When she noted the young woman’s look of concern, she allowed a wan smile. “I was just reading an old letter.”

“Bad news?” Iris guessed.

Stella shook her head. “Old news.” She stood and left her office.

Darius was at the front counter, supporting himself on one arm as he read John Farey’s Treatise on the Steam Engine. He looked up at Stella’s approach, his grin slowly fading. “What’s wrong, my sweet?” he asked, before she was suddenly pressed against him, her arms around his middle. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

“You,” she whispered, sniffling.

Darius chuckled softly. “I didn’t come to any harm, and neither did the vehicle,” he said. “But I do wish you could have been with me. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”

She straightened in his hold and sniffled again. “Not that, you idiot,” she whispered, slapping a flattened hand against his chest. She held up the unfolded letter. “I don’t remember ever reading this, but somehow it ended up in a book that Lord Woodhurst bought from me last week, and his wife found it,” she explained. “He brought it to me about an hour ago.”

Darius gave a start. “Woodhurst?” he repeated, as if he might recognize the title. “Was he the man who paid seventeen pounds for all those books written by Lady Cavendish?” he asked.

“The same,” she acknowledged, nodding.

His brows furrowed as he took the missive from her, his attention on her even as he shook it. Giving up his hold on her, he examined the letter for a few minutes before he scoffed. “I don’t immediately recall which battle this is about,” he murmured. “And there have been so many ēlithios colonels over the years,” he added, using the Greek word to describe idiotic, foolish men, “even the use of the word mōros for ‘dimwit’ does not narrow this down.” He grinned as he shrugged, as if he wasn’t concerned. “As I recall, I rarely used names in my correspondence, lest they be intercepted by the enemy.”

There was another reason he had avoided the use of names. Should word get back to the ēlithios who was mentioned, he’d be making an enemy of someone who was supposed to be on his side.

“But it was a long time ago?” she asked, pulling a hanky from her pocket to wipe her nose.

“Indeed,” he replied. “Probably…” He glanced up to discover Iris still shelving books. “We’ll talk about this over dinner,” he whispered.

Stella was about to put voice to a protest, but she, too, realized it was better they not discuss their past in front of Iris. “Congratulations on your successful test drive,” she said, deciding it best to change the subject.

“Don’t congratulate me just yet. When it came time to put the vehicle back into the workshop, I discovered the need to drive backwards, so there’s more work to do,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll have it sorted if you haven’t already,” she commented.

“I have something in mind. Mr. Thompson will have to make another drive shaft, though, unless I can devise the means to use the one that’s there and make it do the opposite.” He shook his head. “Apologies.”

Stella grinned. “No need to apologize. I rather adore watching you think out loud. You so rarely share what’s going on in that big brain of yours,” she accused.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, knowing full well Iris was surreptitiously watching them.