her appearance. As though they were all nothing more than their facades.
“Miss Cully. Good day to you,” Imogen called out in greeting. “How is your uncle?”
Miss Cully looked up, wiping her forearm against her perspiring brow and smiling as she caught a glimpse of Imogen. They were of a like age. Whenever Papa had called on the blacksmith, Imogen had quite enjoyed accompanying him. She and Gwen would play outside. It was a decidedly different experience than when Imogen had tagged along with Papa to Penning Hall. Gwen would show her the inner workings of a smithy. The girls had laughed and gotten on well together.
Gwen wore trousers, but no one in these parts blinked an eye over it anymore. With her father gone these three years past and her uncle practically bedridden due to his poor back, she was the only blacksmith around, and Shropshire was glad to have her, nontraditional or not. When one needed something wrought from metal, they would accept anyone with the skill to do it, and Gwen had proven herself quite capable in that area.
“He is quite well. Resting right now. Thank you, and thank you for dropping off dinner last week for him. He loves your cook’s biscuits.”
“I will extend your compliments. She is quite proud of them, and always makes more than we could possibly eat. I will drop by with some more.”
“My uncle will love that.” She propped her empty bucket on the top rail of the fence and rested her boot on the bottom rung, showcasing the shapeliness of her calves and thighs. She was always so at ease with herself. Dressing in trousers was clearly second nature to her. “Any time you have more than you can eat, we’re happy to reap the surplus.”
Imogen nodded. “By all means. I will send them your way.” She glanced from the bucket and back to Gwen. “Very busy today?”
“I’m repairing some copper wall sconces for up at Penning Hall. Miss Lockhart wants the place in order before the arrival of the duke.”
“Ah.” Imogen nodded. “Of course. She is a most diligent housekeeper.”
“She is that. She has always kept me busy, but she has a whole slew of things for me to do after I repair these fixtures.” Gwen grinned. “No complaints, of course. I appreciate the business.”
“You work too hard, Gwen. I don’t suppose this is a good time to ask you to come and check on the gate behind our house. The latch is sticking. It might need replacing.”
“Oh, I’ll always have time for you. I’ll come by later this week. Perhaps a little before dinner.” Gwen grinned cheekily, shaking her head and tossing the shorter strands of fair hair back from her forehead. The pale wisps only fell back in place with a bounce. She wore her hair in double plaits and pinned them to the back of her head. It wasn’t the tidiest arrangement, and it brought to Imogen’s mind a Norwegian milkmaid, but Gwen somehow made it look fetching even with all the flyaway strands.
Imogen smiled. “That would be fine. You can stay and we will feed you and send a plate home for your uncle.”
Gwen placed a hand over her heart. “You are far too good for this earth, Imogen Bates.”
Imogen’s smile turned shaky. She didn’t think she could hold on to it much longer. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She did not feel too good for this earth lately. Not at all.
Not even close.
As though Gwen’s words reignited the sudden urge to get on her way and set matters to rights, she said her farewell with a promise to see Gwen soon.
Waving, she turned and took a bracing breath. Time to put her plan to action.
Imogen walked until her destination loomed ahead. She opened the little white gate and walked through it up the stone walk to the front of Mrs. Hathaway’s house.
She stood before the door for several moments, letting the sunny yellow paint comfort and embolden her. Promises have been made. The demands of her conscience begged a resolution.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked briskly.
She would blame it all on a misunderstanding. Indeed. She nodded once determinedly. That should work.
She would insist she had not said he had the pox. No. No. She had simply misheard. The ballroom had been too loud. What she had said was: He has a bantam cock. He tripped on a clock. He has a head full of rocks. He needs new socks. He