Page 65 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

“Be on your way, then,” the constable ordered, waving them to move the cart. “Don’t want to be blocking traffic in this fog.”

“Right away, sir.”

Darius had already returned to the cart and had taken up the reins when the constable called out, “Now, hold on there.”

About to climb onto the seat, Angus froze. “What is it, sir?” he asked.

“You lose something?”

Angus swallowed. “Not that I know…” He watched as the constable bent and then lifted Angus’s cap in one hand. “Where’d you find that?” he asked, pretending awe.

“On the ground behind the cart. Must have come off when you got down to take a piss.”

“I swear, if me ’ead wasna’ attached, I’d lose it, too.” Accepting the cap from the portly man, Angus flipped it onto his head. “Thank ye kindly, sir.”

The constable nodded and continued on his rounds.

Darius put the horse to a trot, grinning. “You sounded like a Cockney,” he accused.

“I can when I have to,” Angus replied. He suddenly straightened and glanced behind them. “Don’t we need to turn around, sir?”

“And go past that constable again? We’ll cross Westminster Bridge to get home,” Darius replied. “Where we’re both going to take shower baths,” he added.

“I look forward to it,” Angus said. “Iris… I mean Miss O’Connor, seemed better for it.”

“Stella said she looked as if she had been beaten with a stick.”

Angus displayed a grimace. “From the edges of the stairs, no doubt. She was putting up quite a fight when I got there.”

Darius glanced over at him. “You have to wait at least six months to marry her.”

“Sir?”

He sighed loudly. “Have you forgotten she’s in mourning? I’m going start carving her brother’s headstone on the morrow,” he said.

“But… as an orphan, she has no protector,” Angus argued. “Is she just supposed to…?” He swallowed back the rest of what he was going to say. “Not do anything?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, those are Society’s rules.”

“Pardon, sir, but who would even know?”

“What do you mean?”

“If she got on with her life, who would know?” Angus asked, his manner becoming stubborn.

Darius inhaled and let the breath out in a whoosh. “Her brother worked for Miller Furniture. Everyone who works there would know. She works for the Joneses. They would know,” Darius explained. “Everyone who sees her every day at the market would know. You’ll either have to be very patient, or…” He shrugged but didn’t complete the sentence.

“Or?” Angus prompted.

“Or,” Darius stated, a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Oh,” the younger man responded. His brows lifted in astonishment. “We keep it very secret,” he whispered.

“No one can know,” Darius warned. “Even though your intentions are good, her reputation will be ruined.”

“Understood.”

Aiming another glance at Angus as he directed the horse into the mews behind Agremon House, Darius murmured, “There is one other issue you need to consider.”