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A miniature horseshoe.

“Who is in need of luck today?” the blacksmith asked.

“My friend is in dire need,” Nell said, taking Millie’s hand and raising it. She shot her a grin and lowered her voice. “You have had none so far determining who is leaving you those notes.”

Millie’s neck heated, and she was glad the collar of her pelisse covered it. But Nell was correct. Ever since she had spent time with Mr. Kendrick last evening, she realized the man in question could be anyone. Nothing he had said in either letter gave any indication of his identity. It was equally disheartening and exciting.

“For the lady, then,” the blacksmith said, holding the small horseshoe toward Millie. “Horseshoes are known to ward off evil and bring luck.”

“Thank you.” She took it, the small iron shoe hard in her gloved hand, no larger than the length of her thumb. After watching the man bend the iron, it felt surprisingly rigid. She leaned closer to Nell and lowered her voice. “Perhaps I will keep it in my pocket until my admirer reveals himself.”

Their group moved toward the cooper to watch his barrel-making demonstration, which he finished off using a large iron ring around his bent wood, no doubt provided by the blacksmith.

“Should we play a game?” Charles suggested at the back of the group.

“I saw nine pins,” Wesley said. “And a ring toss.”

A man passed them holding a cheese wheel no larger than his hand, and Millie glanced up at Wesley with a grin. “Cheese roll?”

He laughed. “Of course you would choose that.”

The group agreed, and they made their way toward the area of the field where the game was being held. The frozen grass crunched underfoot as they walked. Sunlight flooded them from overhead, but it did not seem to do much to abate the chill in the air.

Wesley walked beside Millie and put out his hand. “May I see this wondrous new talisman of yours?”

Millie fished the horseshoe from her pocket and set it in his palm. “At this point, I will accept any help I am offered.”

He turned it over before returning it to her. “A charm is all well and good, but the best way to determine the man’s identity is not through wishful hoping, Millie.”

She peered at him, but it did not seem like he was mocking her. “What is the best way?”

“As I mentioned at the church yesterday, it is to make a plan.”

“A plan to do what, exactly?”

“I am not sure. Catch him, I suppose.”

“You mean to imply I should lay a trap.”

Nell walked beside Millie. “What trap?”

“To find my suitor,” Millie explained.

“That might work.”

“That is only one way,” Wesley said. “Another would be to speak of the things mentioned in your letters and watch for men who seem to understand your meaning.”

“I tried that with Mr. Stroud.”

“Did you find success?” Wesley asked.

“I was able to scratch him from my list.”

Nell shook her head, her eyebrows pulling together. “You believe so, but what if he knew what you were about? He might have intentionally acted in a way that would not reveal himself.”

Millie frowned. The last thing she wanted to do was add Mr. Stroud back to her list of possible suitors.

“I had imagined any man who wished to know me better would do his best to spend time with me this week, but the few who have shown any interest only did so once or twice.” Millie drew a tired breath as they approached the area for the cheese roll, where another group was preparing to begin. They stood back and waited.