“Care to tell me about your appointments?”
“Blacksmiths.”
“Is that why you have half-finished pieces with you?” Beth asked, undeterred by his one-word answer. She was already pondering how to help him solve this, and who she might know to ask.
“Yes.”
“Where have you been getting the hardware for your designs until now?”
“I have an excellent blacksmith, but he is getting older and finds the more detailed work difficult during the cold dark winter months. He also has a grandchild he wants to see more often.”
“So, you are looking to replace him?”
Robert nodded, his lips twisting. “Over time, anyway.”
“What do you look for in a blacksmith? How do you judge quality?”
“Much of what I need is on a smaller scale than many smiths’ usual work. The ones that supply horse outfitters know what is needed for leather attachments. On the other hand, furniture requires more detail and finesse with the metal. Unfortunately, I rarely find a smith who works with both.”
Beth nodded. He still hadn’t answered her question, though.
“Sometimes, I can evaluate their work if they have pieces in progress. Otherwise, I carry a few samples and get their reaction to them. If they think they could recreate them, I will give them one, and offer a small fee for them to duplicate it.”
“What of availability? I presume these men already have enough work to feed their families.”
“Ah, yes. That will be more difficult to judge. When I found Burke, my business was smaller. One saving grace is that I have the luxury of being able to order the fasteners I use most in bulk and maintaining inventory.”
That means he is doing enough business to afford such a thing. Good for him. Beth was impressed. She’d never cared how a man supported himself because her affairs were short term. But the more she discovered about Robert, the more he fascinated her.
“I am surprised Cheltie could not find one for you.”
“He does better on the investing end and hasn’t funded anyone’s smithy business.”
“Ah. Right, then. Shall we begin?”
****
By the end of the day, they’d talked with several smiths and one apprentice. None of them did indoor work, as they called it. When Robert produced his samples, two of them shook their heads.
“Not worth my time,” said one.
“D’you know of another smith who might be interested?” he asked.
“Not here in Bath.”
Beth chimed in, asking where belts were made, and they shrugged and guessed, “London?”
As the day went on, Robert talked less and less. She picked up on his detailed questions after the first stop, and was so bubbly and charming, the smiths preferred to talk to her, so he stepped back and watched.
She had a knack for honing in on the aspects of his work that differed from others’ and tailoring her questions about the skills needed without offending the blacksmiths. It was easy to attribute it to her outgoing nature and inquisitiveness, but he perceived the sharp intellect simmering below her seemingly carefree surface and was awed.
They strolled back to the guesthouse to change for the evening meal. Thoughts swirled as Beth chattered about what she’d liked about each smith’s work.
I could so easily fall in love with her. That sharp wit, her creative ideas, her caring nature.
She clearly wanted nothing more than to see people around her happy, despite how Bags and Michael said the Ton treated her. Her conspicuousness and outlandishness were challenges, however. Her star shone too brightly. While he did not wish to dim it, neither did he want to stand in its light. He preferred the shadows. He attended the parties because Evan dragged him and for inspiration, but he hated imagining what might happen if the Ton learned he was the designer of those pieces they loved so much.
No matter. She will quickly tire of me—the quiet outcast, the second son, the frumpy friend. His lips twisted.
