“Sit down, Miss,” Fergus said, leaning back. “Guverness or no, it’s none of my business. But I see yer a lady.”
Apparently, the whole world knew she was a lady. She could wear a potato sack and sprinkle ash over her head and they’d still insist she was a lady. Why did she even bother pretending otherwise?
“Not that it matters. But I’m a blacksmith.” Fergus winked at her.
“Ah, yes.”
“I’m good at what I do.”
“I’m sure you are, sir.”
“He”—Fergus nodded at his grandson, who’d gone to the window to read the letters —“has learned the tradesince he was a wee bairn, and now he’s almost better than me. Business has never been so good. We McAllisters are generations of blacksmiths. We’re proud of who we are. Philip’s a true McAllister in that sense. He knows the trade as well as the best of us. He’s also done something that none of us did and that is go to University. What’s it ye studied again, boy?”
“Mathematics,” Philip mumbled as he read the letter, his eyebrows drawn together.
“Aye. Mathematics.” He sounded right proud of his grandson. “My boy’s got lots of juice in here.” He tapped his forehead. “He invents things that are nothing short of miraculous.”
“I have seen some of his inventions. They are wonderful.”
“Aye. My grandson is a blacksmith, a mathematician, an inventor.” He nodded. “He’s also a lord.”
Arabella held her breath. Her eyes flew to Philip.
“I am not.” Philip lowered his letters and glowered at his grandfather.
“Balderdash. Of course ye are. Ye dinnae like to talk about it and it’s no good. Ye can’t keep denying it. There’s a letter in there that ye have to act on.”
Philip threw the pack on the table. “There’s nothing there that interests me.” He tucked his hands in his armpits, which made him look like a recalcitrant schoolboy.
With a glance, Arabella saw that they were all addressed to the Earl of Threthewick.
“The letter from the patent office isn’t in there.” Philip scowled.
“No.” His grandfather shuffled through the letters and pulled one out. “This one. Read this one.”
“It doesn’t interest me.”
“Stubborn boy. Well, I’ve read it, knowing that he never would.” He lifted a missive and waved it in his hand. “It’s from the Earl of Winchester.”
Arabella’s head perked up. She knew that name. An acquaintance of her brother’s.
Philip shrugged. “Don’t know no Earl.”
“No ye don’t, but ye ought. He’s keen on meeting ye.”
“Bah. If he wants to meet me, he should come here.”
“Listen boy. This Earl of Winchester is not the usual man. He’s connections to the patent’s office. He’s interested in inventions and the patron of many inventors. He’s the driving force behind a society for engineers.”
Philip’s head whipped up.
“Doesn’t live far from here. He’s giving a dinner party. Wants the Earl of Threthewick to attend.” He threw the letter back on the table. “And I say, the Earl is goin’.”
Philip swallowed as he stared at the letter.
“Tuck away your stubbornness and read the letter, boy. It could be the very thing that ye need.”
“I’ve always said I would do this on my own and never usethatname to drive my interests forward.”
