Page 69 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

“Understood. My missing tenant has the third floor. His windows are probably directly across from yours.”

Reminded of what Iris had told her the night before, a wave of annoyance had Stella straightening. “Oh. So he’s the Peeping Tom who’s been watching my tenant,” she said, venom sounding in her voice. “Staring at her, probably lusting after her nubile body.”

Mr. Perkins gave a start, his eyes rounding. “Uh… I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he stammered.

“Well, when you find him, I do believe you need to evict the lecher. Especially if he hasn’t paid his rent.”

Nodding vigorously, the bookbinder said, “I… I will do that. Thank you for your time, and good day, Mrs. Agremon.”

“Good day, Mr. Perkins.” She watched as the man took his leave, half walking, half jogging back to the building directly across the street.

Willing herself to relax, Stella glanced down at the book she held. If Iris had indeed thrown it at the man who attacked her, why had she pulled this particular volume?

She glanced at the bookshelves, quickly determining from where it had been pulled. On either side were books about the genealogies of European royalty. She once again glanced at the title on the spine and gave a start.

If this had been in her library at Agremon House, it would have been the book she consulted with regards to Lord Woodhurst the night before. Moving to her office, she quickly flipped the pages until she landed on those covering the Woodhurst title.

The pages were slightly creased at the spine, a clear indication they had at one time been spread open to this exact location.

“Did she hear us?” Stella murmured, wondering if Iris had been eavesdropping on their conversation about Lord Woodhurst. Or perhaps she was merely curious about the viscount. She had seemed in awe that a peer of the realm was in the shop.

The information contained in this particular volume, published by John Burke of Ireland, was almost the same as what she and Darius had found in the guide by Debrett. Almost, but since this one was newer—an inaugural edition printed in 1826—it included information for the two decades after the publication date of Debrett’s Peerage of England, Scotland, and Ireland.

Information she found of particular interest.

James Entwistle, Fifth Viscount Woodhurst, wed Sarah Anne Adamson, oldest daughter of the Fourth Viscount Somersby, in August, 1815. She bore a son, Thomas Edward Charles, the following year.

Stella inhaled softly. If he really did exist, a seventeen-year-old son of a peer would be conveniently away at university. If he didn’t, then how was Woodhurst convincing those in charge that he had a son?

She was determined they would discover the answer that night.

In the meantime, she needed to arrange for some drapes to be made. And open all the windows upstairs. The smell of paint was becoming rather pungent.

Chapter Thirty-Two

An Arrangement Is Discussed

Later that afternoon, at the Antiquarian Quill

Even if she hadn’t noticed the painters’ dray cart parked in front of the Antiquarian Quill, Iris knew from the moment she entered the bookshop that the painters were at work on the third floor. An odor similar to wood-tar or smoked meats lingered in the air. The pungent smell wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the odors she had once been accustomed to at her old lodgings, though.

“I’ve opened all the windows upstairs,” Stella said from behind the counter, before Iris had even taken two steps into the bookshop. “But I do think you may wish to sleep on the second floor tonight. I can help you move your cot downstairs if you wish.”

Iris shook her head. “No need, ma’am. I don’t mind the smell.” She hesitated a moment, her gaze going to the stairs. “Have they been here long?”

“Since ten o’clock this morning. They are creating quite the work of art up there.”

“Art?” Iris questioned.

Stella set aside the receipt book and rested her arms on the countertop. “As it happens, Raffaele and Francesco Benedetto specialize in Scagliola,” she explained. “And they are quite proud of it.”

Scagliola?

Iris was sure she had never heard the word before. “May I go see?”

Stella grinned. “They had one wall left to do when I last looked. I need to leave early this evening—no later than five o’clock—so I asked that they be finished by then and come back to do the second floor tomorrow.”

Surprised, Iris said, “The second floor? But I thought—”