Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor #3) - Rose Gordon Page 0,26

go,” she said—in her mind, for her mouth wouldn’t actually move.

But her feet would.

“Do you need something, gov’ner?” the gruff man sitting behind the anvil asked, wiping his hands on his filthy apron.

Simon gaped at the man. Whether it was because Rae had just abandoned him alone with her beau or the fact that this was her beau, he couldn’t decide.

Thinning hair, leathery skin, grease smears on his sweaty face, three days’ worth of stubble on his chin, and threadbare clothes with holes that didn’t look like he’d attempted to mend. This was Rae’s Prince Charming?

He could scarcely believe it.

Then again, Isabelle had preferred a liar with an ungentlemanly streak and Lucy had preferred Giles—that didn’t need any further explanation.

He blinked to clear his thoughts. “Yes, sir. I was wondering if you…” He looked around the room, hoping an idea would come to him for something to ask the man about. Nothing.

“Get on with it. I haven’t got all day.”

“Right.” Simon stuffed his hands into his pockets, his fingers brushing the edge of one of his calling cards. “You’re a business man, I see,” he said easily, withdrawing the card for his pocket. “My name is Simon Appleton. I work in London and manage investments. I’m here visiting Lord Drakely and thought I might come to the village and see if any of the local business owners were interested in purchasing investments.”

The smithy scoffed and banged his hammer down against the tip of metal he was holding over the anvil. “Visiting Lord Drakely, you say?”

“That’s right.” Simon slipped his card back into his pocket.

“Do yourself a favor and go back to London.”

“Pardon?”

The smithy, banged his hammer three more times, then set it down on the stool next to him with all the care of a man handling a brick of gold. “Lord Drakely’s sister-in-law is trouble.”

“Trouble?” Simon echoed, cringing at the way he was starting to sound like Mr. Flanagan’s parrot.

“The worst sort.” The older man scowled. “Henrietta Hughes will do anything she can to trap a man into marriage.”

Simon let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I have a hard time believing she’d ever attempt to trap a man into marriage.” Rae might have had her cap set on Mr. Fisher, but he couldn’t picture her doing anything to trap him.

Mr. Fisher laughed bitterly. “Then you haven’t been around her long enough.”

Simon forced a shrug. “I’ve spent enough time in her company to know she hasn’t tried to lay a trap for me.”

“She might not be able to read or write her own name—” he banged his hammer against the anvil few times— “but I wouldn’t be so certain she hasn’t schemed up something. She’s craftier than a serpent.”

Simon’s heart ached for Rae at his unkind remarks and he chose to ignore them. “And would marriage to such a beautiful and witty lady be the worst fate to befall a man?” he asked casually.

Mr. Fisher’s lips twisted in disgust. “A man with any sense, it would.” Then before Simon could ask him anything else, he pulled the heated metal out of the fire and set it on the anvil. Taking his hammer in hand, he started pounding the piece, sending sparks flying, and effectively declaring Simon dismissed from his presence.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Simon exited the addled man's shop.

As soon as the door closed behind him, his eyes fell on Rae. She was seated on a bench across the street. Her hands were clutched in her lap and she was idly kicking her feet back and forth. Though her head was down, he could tell she was biting her lip. He smiled. So many times he’d seen others bite their lip and hadn’t given a second thought to their nervous habits, but for some reason his eyes couldn’t look away from Rae when she did it.

“Well, I’ve made the acquaintance of your Mr. Fisher,” Simon said, sitting down next to her.

“He’s not mine,” she whispered.

“But you want him to be, no?”

Slowly she nodded.

Simon couldn’t pretend to understand why, but if it’s what she wanted… “All right, well, then we need to do something for you to catch his attention.” He reached for her chin and used the tips of his fingers to tip it up to look at him. “Just his attention. The rest is up to him.”

The confused expression in her bright blue eyes confirmed what he’d already suspected: Mr. Fisher spouted poppycock. Rae had never actually tried to trap him into marriage. She was just…forward. The