Page 66 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

“Oh? What’s that, sir?”

Darius chuckled softly. “You have to convince her.”

Angus gave a start. “Oh. There is that,” he acknowledged.

Chapter Thirty

A Discussion in the Dark

A half hour later

The warm water of the shower bath seemed to wash away the horror of the day as Angus stood beneath it. He did his best to keep his bandaged finger from getting wet, the splint on the underside of it pressing into his palm a constant reminder of the broken knuckle.

When the shower slowed to a drip—because all the water had drained out of the warming tank—he reluctantly stepped out of the tub and helped himself to a bath linen. For a moment, he wondered how he could create a similar device in his lodgings.

Or in Iris’s upper floor.

The space on the third floor was certainly large enough to have a bathing chamber added at the back. The pipe could be run from the pump in the mews behind the bookshop and up the exterior back wall to the third floor and be tapped for both a pump and for bathing water. Or perhaps Darius could help him devise a cistern to hold rainwater collected in a barrel.

He marveled at seeing how this bathing chamber had been returned to rights after what Darius had done for his finger. There was no evidence of the medical supplies that had been strewn about the counter on which the ceramic sink was set. No evidence of the medicine Stella had used on Iris’s injuries.

Darius had left him a night shirt and a dressing robe while some poor laundress was seeing to brushing his trousers and waistcoat and washing his shirt. Angus had mentioned he would go to his lodgings after driving Iris to the market and then return to Agremon House to continue work on the vehicle.

Darius had other plans for him, though.

He had handed him one of his shirts. “Unless you have business at your home, come straight back here after dropping Miss O’Connor off, and return to bed,” he had instructed. “Breakfast will be served at nine. Oh, but stop by the kitchens before you take her to work. Mrs. Crabbe has put together some food for her to take for breakfast. And lunch!”

Angus felt a good deal of gratitude towards his employer. The man could have accused him of murder and turned him over to a constable. Instead, he had seen to every detail, not only of removing the corpse from the bookshop, but erasing the evidence of the villain’s death.

Drying himself off with the bath linen before donning the nightshirt, Angus caught a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror and paused. His damp dark hair was plastered to his head, but otherwise he appeared rested.

His body told him otherwise, though, and he made his way to his bedchamber. A small fire was already set in the fireplace, and a candle lamp was lit but sputtering, low, on the nightstand.

The bed linens of the four-poster bed, far finer than his own bed, had been turned down on one side.

On the other, a lump showed in the counterpane.

For a moment, he thought perhaps he had entered the wrong bedchamber. That was when he noticed the door to the adjoining guest bedchamber in the back corner was open. It hadn’t been when he had undressed in the room earlier, before he had watched in dismay as the laundress collected his clothes at Darius’s instruction, before he left to use the shower bath.

Excitement warred with exhaustion.

Iris O’Connor was in his bed.

So much for having to convince her, he thought, remembering Darius’s earlier warning.

His cock, already well ahead of him in terms of understanding the situation, had stiffened in anticipation.

He glanced at the clock over the fireplace. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Tamping down his excitement, he climbed onto the bed and pulled the bed linens over his body. The woman next to him rolled over, and he chuckled softly as Iris settled her head into the small of his shoulder and rested her left arm on his chest. He wrapped his arm behind her shoulders, his hand ending up atop her hip. Although he had a thought she might be naked, he could feel the weave of a soft fabric covering her.

“Thank you for whatever you had to do tonight,” she whispered.

Angus kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scents of jasmine and orange. “I would do whatever was necessary for you,” he replied.

“Whatever was necessary?” she repeated, her voice sounding drowsy as well as slightly annoyed.

“Whatever you desire,” he murmured. He felt her give a slight start in his hold. “Whatever you wish. Just tell me, Iris, and I will do my very best to see to it,” he vowed.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and stared at him. “What about you? What is it you desire?”