Page 32 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

“I will,” she replied. She bid the couple farewell and set about packing her meager belongings.

Despite their assistance—or maybe because of it—she couldn’t help the odd feeling she experienced when she remembered their conversation in the bookshop as well as in the coach.

She was sure she was being set up for something, but she couldn’t think what it might be.

Unless it had something to do with Mr. Thompson.

Chapter Fourteen

First Impressions

A few minutes later, in the Agremon coach

“Well?” Stella asked, even before they had settled into the velvet squabs of their town coach.

“Well, what?” Darius countered, directing an impish grin at his wife.

“What did you think of her?”

Darius inhaled slowly. “She’s obviously a voracious reader,” he commented. “Rather timid, a bit suspicious. Comely.”

“Not that,” Stella countered, her scoff sounding loud in the tight confines of the town coach.

Chuckling softly, he sighed. “What then, my sweet?”

“Don’t you think she will make the perfect wife for Mr. Thompson?”

Darius quickly sobered. “Did you hire her because you thought she would make a good wife for Angus?” he asked in alarm.

“Not only,” she hedged.

“Stella,” he scolded.

“Well, what exactly is Mr. Thompson’s situation?”

Darius huffed. “He’s letting a floor in some sort of house in Elm Street, I believe. Bachelor quarters,” he replied. “Nothing fancy, I expect, but probably not a tenement such as she is in.” Despite the poor condition of the building, Iris’s room had seemed clean and tidy. “Working class lodgings, more like.”

Stella considered his explanation for a moment. “If they marry, I won’t have to worry about Iris being alone above my shop at night,” Stella explained. “All by herself amongst all those…” She waved a hand. “Dingy houses,” she finished, referring to the adjacent buildings that hosted publishers, printers, bookbinders, and bookshops.

It was Darius’s turn to scoff. “Might I remind you, I installed and tested the door bolts for both the front and back doors?” he argued. “As long as Miss O’Connor ensures they are bolted, she will be safe.”

Stella pretended she was miffed before she asked, “What do you think Mr. Thompson will think of her? Will he find her pleasant to look upon?”

Humor once again returned to Darius’s face. “I believe he will,” he replied. “I think they’re about the same age.” He paused a moment. “He is lonely,” he added in a quieter voice.

“I promise I won’t force a marriage on them,” Stella stated.

Darius barked a laugh. “I’ll be reminding you of that on the morrow,” he countered, before wrapping an arm behind her shoulders and pulling her closer to his side. “Before you have me adding another shingle above your bookshop door.”

Stella gave a start. “What shingle would that be?”

Waving a hand in the air in front of them, he said, “Immortal Matchmakers of Mayfair,” his delivery rather dramatic.

Gasping, Stella said, “I hadn’t thought to make a living at matchmaking, but I think I could be quite good at it. As a hobby.”

“Well, good, because I rather doubt it pays very well if you’re dealing with working class individuals,” he warned.

“I wouldn’t have to make money doing it,” she reasoned.