Page 97 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

Six months later

Hoisting the carved granite gravestone onto his shoulder, Darius followed Iris and Angus as they made their way to Jacob’s plot in the church graveyard. Deciding it best she allow Iris some privacy, Stella watched from the town coach.

Despite having cracked into two places, Jacob’s wooden marker had survived the winter. Angus knelt and pulled it from the damp ground, placing it flat atop the grave before helping Darius with lowering the polished granite stone into the hole they had dug.

They stepped back as Iris set a bouquet of flowers at the base of the marker. At the same moment, the sun appeared from behind gray clouds that had covered the sky over London for several days.

Iris straightened and lifted her face to the sun, her eyes closed as she displayed a serene expression. Despite the black mourning gown she wore, she appeared radiant.

Angus watched, his heart hammering in his chest. In only an hour or so, he and Iris would be wed.

“You’ve done remarkable work carving his name, Mr. Agremon,” Iris said. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“I was happy to do it. It was a good challenge,” Darius replied. He stepped back to ensure the stone was square to the plot and evenly set, the words straight.

Jacob A. O’Connor

A brother

1804 – 1832

“I’m going to go wait in the coach. Stay as long as you wish,” Darius said, before returning to the equipage.

Once he was seated next to Stella, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Just because. And for lifting that enormous rock all by yourself.”

He grunted. “I think I shall choose marble over granite if I ever have the urge to carve anything again,” he said.

“Oh?”

“That granite is a hard rock. I must have ruined six chisels making those letters.”

“But it was so worth it,” she said. “I can see it from here. It practically glows in the sunshine,” she added.

“That’s the polished surface,” he replied. “It came that way from Scotland.”

“I know that.” She gave him a quelling glance. He knew she had suspicions he had done something to enhance the stone’s appearance. If he had, he’d decided, he’d never tell. “So, what’s next now that you found someone to buy the Agremon Steamer and have sold the manufacturing rights?”

The vehicle had been snapped up by an old earl who admitted to wanting it for show more than for transportation. The man’s entire estate was practically a museum of inventions.

As for the manufacturing rights, Lord Woodhurst had helped in that regard, his influence with some aristocrats making it possible to form an investment group. Anxious to begin another project, Darius had signed over the rights for a lump sum and a percentage of future profits.

He inhaled slowly and let out the breath in a whoosh. “I’ve had a request from Lord Woodhurst.”

Stella straightened in the squabs. “What sort of request?”

“He wants a shower bath. Or perhaps Lady Woodhurst does?”

“Oh, yes,” Stella said, a look of guilt crossing her face. “I showed her ours when she last came for tea,” she admitted. “She struggles with getting out of a bathtub given her lame foot, and a shower bath would be so much easier for her.”

“Well, now that Mr. O’Connor and I have worked out the particulars in doing the one for the apartment’s bathing chamber above the bookshop, I think we may be able to make a number of the interior parts of the water warmer in a standard design. Sell the device as an entire unit.”

He and Angus had completed the plumbing for the bathing chamber only the week before, adding a faucet for a sink as well as the shower bath and a toilet. Once the piping was done and they were assured there were no leaks, they had added framing for walls and a door. A plasterer had finished the walls, and the Benedetto brothers had returned to paint them to match the rest of what they had done on the second floor.

With the drapes in place and a Turkish rug on the floor next to the bed, the room made for a cozy bedchamber.