Page 75 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

When it appeared as if James would try to scold her again, Darius held up a staying hand. “By the time he arrived, I had finished my service and had returned to the German Confederacy. I learned about his unfortunate death shortly after it happened, though. He suffered a terrible fever, probably from malaria, poor man.”

Sarah looked as if she might cry. “He should be commended for what he did. We lost a true poet when he died.”

“The Greeks love him,” Stella assured her. “They have made him into a national hero for having dedicated his own money and time to the war effort.” She turned her gaze on James. “Have you had to serve in the military, my lord?”

He seemed to hesitate and then couldn’t answer when the butler appeared at the door to announce dinner was ready.

The two couples stood and paired up, the viscount and viscountess taking the lead with Stella and Darius following behind. As they began descending the stairs, James said, “I didn’t have to serve in the military, but every Woodhurst holding the title since its inception has fought in at least one war.”

They entered the dining room, where a shorter-than-usual table was set beneath a glittering chandelier. The table was dressed with a white linen Jacquard tablecloth featuring an intricate floral pattern, and the china place settings were white with a gold pattern on the outer edge. Several crystal wine glasses accompanied each place setting, along with a series of highly polished silver cutlery. “What a lovely dining room,” Stella remarked.

“Thank you,” Sarah said, moving to the chair at the end opposite the carver. “I dislike sitting so far away from James whilst we eat,” she said. “I do hope you don’t mind a shorter table.”

Stella waved a dismissive hand. “A smaller table makes for easier conversation.” Darius held her chair for her while she noticed how James doted on his wife. Whilst on the stairs, Sarah seemed to have trouble, gripping her husband’s arm as well as the stair rail as if she feared falling. Once they were on the ground floor, she displayed a slight limp on the way into the dining room.

Not an Immortal then, she supposed. If she were an Immortal, she would not have limped because any injury or illness would have rapidly healed.

When they were all seated, Sarah rang a bell next to her plate, and several footmen appeared with the first course—soup, fish, and roasted beef—while the butler saw to pouring the wines.

“I believe you were telling us about your latest military service,” Darius prompted. He took a sip of the white wine and nodded appreciatively.

James held up his glass of wine as if in a toast. “I was asked to renew my commission for the War of Eighteen Twelve, but I declined the posting, so my last battle was against Napoleon at Quatres Bras. By that time, I was determined to reunite with my betrothed and finally be married.” He lifted the glass again. “To your health,” he said.

“Hear, hear,” the others responded before the dishes were passed around.

“How is it you two met?” Stella asked, helping herself to a serving of turbot.

From her end of the table, Sarah tittered. “At a ball here in Mayfair, of course.” She passed the plate of beef to Darius.

“We danced, and I stepped on her foot,” James put in before taking a bite of his soup. “Which is why she has a slight limp.” His quirked lip suggested he was teasing.

“James,” she scolded. “He is joking. But it is true that we danced. Twice that night and several more times during that Season. I had already been on the shelf for at least a decade—I’d had no intention of getting married—”

“Unless it was to a book,” he interjected.

“—and then he courted me for nearly a year before he had to accept that commission,” she said.

Stella scoffed softly. “Such a shame you had to go off to the Continent in the middle of your betrothal,” she murmured.

“But she waited for me to return,” James said, grinning. “Bless her heart. I cannot tell you how relieved I was that she did. My dear Sarah is the perfect partner for me.”

Glancing at Sarah, Stella noted how the woman blushed, though her attention remained on her soup.

“Her father was a viscount, so she was raised amongst the aristocracy,” James continued. “He once told me she insisted he explain everything there was to know about Parliament and laws and such. She is so well-read, we never lack topics to discuss. I fear I would have grown bored with a girl fresh from the schoolroom.”

“We were married shortly after his return from the United Kingdom of the Netherlands,” Sarah said. “Spent our wedding trip getting reacquainted in Derbyshire, and I gave him his heir a few months after we returned to Kent. Thomas is away at Cambridge.”

“Otherwise he’d be regaling us with stories of his derring-do,” James put in. “That boy is so reckless. If the Four Horse Club still existed, he would be the president.” He rolled his eyes. “I keep having to remind him there is no spare heir.”

“Surely he’ll settle down after he’s done with school,” Darius commented. “You can always make him your man of business.”

“That is a capital idea,” James said.

“Will he go on a Grand Tour, do you suppose?” Stella asked, her gaze on Sarah. If the woman had given birth to a boy, then someone other than James had to be the father. At the viscount’s mention of there being no spare heir, Sarah had displayed a curious expression. “Because if he does, he really must include Greece in his itinerary.”

“Oh, I have every expectation he will,” Sarah replied, apparently excited by the prospect. “I’ve been seeking recommendations for the very best cicerone to hire for him,” she added, referring to a tour guide. “I am determined he be as well-read and worldly as possible for when he eventually inherits.”

Conversation ceased for a moment when the footmen appeared to remove the soup bowls and pour more wine. Darius cleared his throat, turning to address the viscount. “Pardon me asking, but earlier you mentioned Quatres Bas. Who was your coalition commander there?”