Beauty and the Blacksmith (Spindle Cove #3.5)(4)

When Spindle Cove became a retreat for well-bred young ladies, some of the other men had groused about the village being overrun . . . but it suited Aaron fine. By then, both his sisters had married, and they and his mother had moved away. So he liked having the visiting young ladies around. He mended their locks and buckles; they purchased the silver and copper trinkets he made in his spare time. It was like having a flock of little sisters to replace the ones he so sorely missed.

Except for Diana Highwood.

He’d never felt brotherly toward her.

He drained his ale. It wasn’t strong enough. “Pauline?”

She looked up from mopping a table clean. “Yes, Mr. Dawes? Anythin’ else you need?”

“Bring me a whiskey, will you?”

CHAPTER 2

As was their habit, all the ladies residing in the Queen’s Ruby rooming house gathered in the parlor after dinner. A roaring fire kept the chill at bay.

Even now, hours after leaving the forge, Diana was still out-of-sorts. The bit of needlework she’d been working on wouldn’t come out right, and she’d lost patience with it.

She’d lost patience with herself.

She’d spent the better part of two years girlishly infatuated with Aaron Dawes, all the while trusting nothing could come of it. He’d mended every scrap of metal she possessed—sometimes two or three times—showing her nothing but neighborly patience.

Until today. Today, he’d shown her something much more.

And she’d panicked and fled. Not even politely, but as if he were an ogre. She was certain he’d been wounded by her hasty retreat.

Now she’d have to avoid him for as long as she remained in the village. How unbearably awkward.

She gave up on stitching and cast a glance out the window. Through the dark and wet, she saw a familiar black mare grazing on the village green.

He must be at the tavern tonight.

“This dratted rain,” her sister Charlotte moaned. “It’s setting us all on edge. Two weeks now with no country walks, no gardening, no romps through the castle ruins. No amusement at all.”

“I don’t mind rain.” This came from Miss Bertram, a young lady new in Spindle Cove this spring. “I always loved spending rainy days with Mr. Evermoore.”

Charlotte stifled a giggle.

Diana gave her sister a pleading look. Don’t. Don’t make fun.

Spindle Cove was a haven for odd, unconventional, and misunderstood young ladies. But even among misfits, Miss Bertram didn’t quite mix. She was hard to know—mostly because she had nothing to say that didn’t involve her relationship with this mysterious rogue, Mr. Evermoore.

“My parents didn’t approve of Mr. Evermoore,” Miss Bertram went on. Her dark eyebrows stood out like bold punctuation on an otherwise unremarkable face. “They don’t understand our attachment. That’s why I’m here, you know.”

Charlotte giggled again.

Miss Bertram’s dark eyebrows gathered in a wounded line. “No one understands. No one.” She lifted her book before her face and turned a page with a snap.

Charlotte buried her face in her hands and convulsed with silent laughter.

“Stop,” Diana whispered. “You shouldn’t poke fun.”

“Who needs to poke it? She offers it up so readily.” Charlotte mimicked in a high whisper, “Oh, Mr. Evermoore. No one understands our love.”

“She’s hardly the first young woman to lose her head over an unsuitable man.”

“What about an imaginary one? I’d wager anything that Mr. Evermoore is Mr. Never-Was. She just wants to impress us.”

“All the more reason to show her kindness.”

Charlotte said lightly, “That’s the lovely thing about being your sister, Diana. You’re kind enough for us both.”

Diana felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t treated Mr. Dawes very kindly today. In her agitation, she jabbed at the fabric and pricked her finger. “Drat.”

She scouted her immediate surroundings for her thimble. It wasn’t in her sewing basket, nor caught in the folds of her skirt. “Have you seen my thimble, Charlotte?”

“No. When did you have it last?”

“This afternoon, I think. When we went to the Bull and Blossom for tea. I’m sure it was in my kit, but I can’t find it now.”

Before they could expand their search, the door creaked open, admitting a sharp blast of icy wind. Their visitor appeared in the entry, throwing back her hood to reveal a shock of white-blond hair.

Sally Bright shook off her damp cloak and hung it on a hook. Her cheeks were pink. “I brought over the post. It was dreadful late today on account of the muddy roads, and I couldn’t wait for you ladies to come collect it tomorrow.”

Diana smiled to herself. Together with her brothers, Sally kept the All Things shop, and she was the biggest gossip in the village. If she’d taken the trouble to bring over the post, that must mean there was something of interest in it.

Something she couldn’t steam open, read, and reseal with no one the wiser.

Sure enough, Sally held out a packet tied with string. “Look. It’s a lovely great package from our dear Mrs. Thorne. And it’s addressed to all of you.”

“Something from Kate?” Charlotte leaped to take the packet and wrestle with the strings. “Oh, how wonderful.”