Susana patted his arm. “I’m terrified of spiders.”

  Garahan’s lips twitched, though she didn’t notice—she was now holding on to Flaherty’s arm. “Who isn’t?”

  “I’m not,” Flaherty insisted.

  “Someone was sneaking around Wyndmere Hall earlier this morning,” Garahan said. “Would ye know anything about that?”

  She let go of Flaherty’s arm and spat out, “I wasn’t there, so how would I know?”

  “We apprehended a man by the name of Greene,” Garahan informed her.

  Flaherty caught the flicker of fear in Susana’s eyes. He wanted to press the point, but bloody hell, he’d given his word.

  “As he claimed to work here as a stable hand,” Garahan said, “we thought ye might have overheard a conversation, mayhap had one with the man.”

  She lifted her chin, anger blazing in her eyes. “I have little time to fraternize with those who work in the stables.” The way she wrinkled her nose, as if she’d caught the scent of something unpleasant, rankled. Flaherty had opened his mouth to speak when he noticed Garahan’s raised brow. He pressed his lips together.

  “There is another matter that we need to get to the bottom of. Flaherty gave Scruggs coin enough for Mrs. Johnson and her daughter to enjoy a meal and pot of tea the other day. They waited nearly an hour, but were never served.”

  “We have been inundated with guests lately, especially in the mornings—if we missed serving someone, they should have spoken up.”

  Flaherty wanted to throttle the woman.

  She sniffed. “If that is all you wished to ask, I am needed elsewhere.”

  When she tried to step around them, Garahan sighed. “Well then, ’tis clear that ye don’t appear to be ready to apologize, nor return the coin Flaherty gave to Scruggs in good faith. ’Tis fine if ye don’t wish to continue our conversation.”

  That was Flaherty’s cue. “Our next stop is to speak to the constable about what occurred at here at your inn—and at Wyndmere Hall. Greene was quite willing to speak with us.”

  She froze in place. Flaherty would later swear that he could hear her quietly cursing them. “As I said, we have been unusually busy, and one of the serving girls may not have noticed the woman waiting to be served. As to any of the men working in the stables, Scruggs handles that area for us. Though there have been times when my brother has had to step in to settle disputes or issues.”

  “Thank ye for yer time,” Garahan said, pleasantly enough, though Flaherty caught the anger simmering in his cousin’s dark eyes.

  “We’ll be certain to give the constable yer regards,” Flaherty added, before motioning with his hand to have her precede them.

  She stomped down the hallway toward the kitchen. When she was far enough away that Flaherty was certain she could not hear them, he snorted. “Did ye see her face? If she had a blade, she’d have used it on ye.”

  “Me?” Garahan shoved Flaherty out of the way with his shoulder. “She’d be skewering yerself.”

  “We could have easily disarmed her. We’d be taking her to the constable right now, instead of leaving without the proof we need.”

  “We aren’t through here yet,” Garahan said. “She did suggest we speak to her brother. Harkness is a man of business. He won’t want anything to discourage customers from coming to his inn.”

  Flaherty grinned, understand what Garahan wanted to do. “Well now, didn’t I hear someone passing through the village the other day commenting on the atmosphere in the taproom?”

  Garahan shook his head. “I may have forgotten.” They walked back to the main part of the inn where Harkness was speaking to three men. Raising his voice to be heard over the din of a number of conversations, Garahan asked, “Was it the food?”

  “Nay,” Flaherty answered, keeping a straight face. “’Twas the talk inside the taproom, remember?”

  “Ah, now I recall,” Garahan said as they drew closer to the innkeeper, who’d stopped talking. The group of men were unabashedly listening to Flaherty and Garahan. Just as they’d hoped. “Rumors—nasty at that. Such that should never be repeated where little ones could hear.”

  Harkness greeted them, “Garahan, Flaherty. What’s this about rumors?” His tone just shy of demanding.

  “Disturbing talk that’s reached Her Grace,” Garahan replied.

  Flaherty picked up the conversational thread. “Her Grace is very careful that she does not to expose the twins to conversations that would be unsettling.”

  “Aye.” Garahan nodded. “Especially when the talk involves a young widow and her child a few years older than Her Grace’s.”

  At that moment, Susana’s loud, suggestive laughter erupted from the taproom, and the men turned their attention toward whatever was happening. Flaherty did not waste the moment. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be telling His Grace that the inn isn’t a place where families can bring their little ones any longer.”

  “Please, wait a moment,” Harkness said. “Let me handle this.”

  The duke’s men shared a look and agreed. They watched the innkeeper stalk into the main room of the inn. A few moments later, they could hear a rumble of conversation, but not the words.

  “Does this often occur at the inn?” one of the trio who’d been talking to Harkness asked.

  Flaherty would not be caught dead in a waistcoat in that shade of yellow. Not wishing to cause the inn to lose business—just to make the innkeeper aware that his sister was causing problems—he replied, “It depends.”

  The tallest of the trio shook his head. “There are times in a crowded room when one has to pitch their voice above the others to be heard.”

  The roundest of the group frowned. “One should always be cautious about the topics they discuss in public.”

  “His Grace insists upon it,” Garahan remarked.

  The man in the garish waistcoat stared at their uniforms, lingering for a moment on their identical emblems. “You work for the Duke of Wyndmere.”

  “Aye. Name’s Garahan. Flaherty and I are part of the duke’s guard.”

  Before the group could continue asking questions, the innkeeper rejoined them. Susana stomped toward the kitchen. “My sister has high spirits. Sometimes she forgets we run a family establishment.” He cleared his throat. “I have reminded her of that.” When no one spoke, Harkness murmured, “It won’t happen again.”

  Garahan inclined his head. “Either meself or Flaherty will be stopping in again. If we see that the atmosphere has changed, then we will hold off bringing a complaint to His Grace.”

  Harkness held out his hand to Garahan. “Thank you.”

  Flaherty watched the exchange, adding, “We have eyes and ears in and around the village.”

  “I understand,” Harkness replied. “Thank you.”

  Before the man could draw them into further conversation, Garahan motioned to Flaherty, who swept the room with his gaze once more. Garahan did the same as they exited the building. Scruggs was waiting for them with their geldings.

  A few moments later, they were headed to the constable to apprise him of the situation. It was unfortunate that they did not have enough information…yet.

  Chapter Eleven

  Despite the abrupt end to their early morning visit to the rose garden—and what she still could not say for certain was a faerie or a dragonfly—Temperance felt relaxed for the first time in days, sitting beside the duchess in one of the two rocking chairs in the nursery. Rocking the O’Malleys’ daughter to sleep, she was swept back in time to when it was Maddy she cradled in her arms. “I miss this.”

  Gwendolyn smiled as she changed a very sleepy Abigail. “Is it my imagination, or does time seem to go so slowly when you’re carrying your babe in your belly, and it flies by once they are born?” She tucked the little one into her cradle and walked over to sit beside Maddy, who was on one of the settees.

  The duchess’s soft laughter felt like a warm hug. “I couldn’t wait for the twins to arrive, and once they did, it seemed as if I would never be able to keep up with feeding them, changing them. I could never have managed it without you, Gwendolyn. I believe the rocking chair benefits both mothers and their babes.”

  Temperance was in awe of the duchess’s ability to remain calm during what could have been an explosive situation earlier that morning. She gave no indication that she was upset as she rocked beside Temperance, who still could not wrap her head around how quickly they had been swept inside while the possibility of a threat loomed.

  Taking her cue from the other woman’s quiet demeanor, Temperance agreed, “The motion is soothing, and humming or singing lullabies just seems to come naturally.”

  “Are you certain we are not tiring you out?” The duchess’s concern still surprised Temperance. She was not in the same social circle, and could not get past the fact that it did not change the way the duchess spoke to her. There was not a bit of artifice in her tone. Not a mean bone in the woman’s body.

  “Quite sure,” Temperance assured her. “Thank you for worrying, but I truly feel better. I think waiting for faeries this morning, witnessing the children’s excitement, was just the boost I needed.”

  “Patrick mentioned how well you looked after spending time out of doors—and in Flaherty’s company.”

  Temperance felt her face heat at the duchess’s statement and wished she wasn’t so prone to flushing when embarrassed.

  “Just Flaherty is partial to Mum.”

  Leave it to Maddy to say something to create a stir. “And how would you know that?” Gwendolyn asked.

  Temperance watched her daughter tip her head to one side—the same way her father used to when he was thinking over how to answer a question. She wondered what was going through Maddy’s mind.

  “He told me so.”

  Shock had Temperance putting her foot down to stop rocking. “What did you say?”

  Maddy glanced at Temperance and echoed a reply she herself had used more than once recently in correcting her daughter: “You heard me.”

  Gwendolyn smiled, and the duchess’s happy laughter echoed through the room.

  “Ah, music to my ears,” a deep voice rumbled from behind them. The duke was standing in the doorway, leaving Temperance to wonder how long he’d been there. Had he heard what her daughter said? Would he be upset with her—or Flaherty?

  His expression was contemplative until he walked over to where his wife sat in the other rocking chair. Worry creased his brow. “Are you ready to lie down, darling? You’ve had a busy day so far.”

  The duchess shook her head. “I’m certain a little while longer rocking and Richard will stay asleep for at least an hour. Abigail is already asleep in her cradle.”

  The duke brushed the tip of his finger across their son’s forehead. “A few minutes, but no longer. You and our babe—it is only one this time, is it not?”

  Temperance thought that an odd question, but she’d only carried one babe in her belly. She supposed a mother would feel movement, mayhap see a heel or elbow stretching the skin of her belly at some point, and know if she carried more than one babe.

  The duchess sighed. “I believe so, but it is early yet. Once the babe starts moving, we’ll know for certain.”

  The duke paled, but his loving expression did not change. Temperance felt their happiness fill the room, before grief swept up from her toes. She and her husband had rarely shared moments like this, given his long hours working in the mine.

  “Mum’s sad again,” Maddy whispered, before Temperance heard the deeper rumble of the duke murmuring to the duchess as she placed their son in his cradle and he coaxed her from the room.

  Gwendolyn rose to her feet. “Thank you for rocking Deidre, Temperance, while I took care of Abigail. Let me put her down.”

  Momentarily distracted, Temperance was able to tuck thoughts of her heavenly husband into the special part of her heart that would always belong to him. Instead of gradually becoming accustomed to not having him in their lives, she’d found she missed him more each day. Every time Maddy said or did something out of the ordinary, Temperance wondered if he could actually see her growing and changing. Could he see her mop of blonde curls so like his own from Heaven?

  “Temperance?”

  She shook herself free from the past. “Forgive me. I was woolgathering.”

  Gwendolyn settled the blanket around her daughter and walked over to where Temperance was sitting. When Patrick’s wife offered her hand, Temperance grasped it and rose to her feet.

  “I understand what you are going through.” Gwendolyn released Temperance’s hand. “I faced the same struggles. I was desolate at first, but needed to earn my keep, so I devoted my life to caring for other people’s babes for years.”

  The woman’s sorrow was palpable, a living, breathing emotion.

  “I lost my husband and our unborn babe hours apart.”

  Temperance drew in a sharp breath and held it for a moment. What she could possibly say to this lovely woman who had suffered far more than she had? Finally, she offered what was in her heart. “I am so sorry for your terrible loss, Gwendolyn. If not for Maddy, I would have lost my mind.”

  Gwendolyn nodded. “There were days when I was on the precipice of doing just that. If you need to talk, at any time, please do not worry that it would be a bother. It won’t be. Do you know what shocked me to the bone and healed the hurt I carried all of those years?”

  “What?”

  “Not what, but who. The hardheaded Irishman whom my heart could not seem to ignore, though the good Lord knows I tried.”

  “Patrick O’Malley?”

  Gwendolyn’s smile brightened. “He was by turns an irritation and complication. I tendered my resignation, believing the duke and duchess would not want me to continue caring for their newborn twins if they found out how we felt about one another.”

  “But you’re still here.”

  “Thanks in part to my brother-in-law Finn and Their Graces.”

  “That sounds like a story best told over a pot of tea.”

  “We shall have to make the time. Looking back, I still wonder what I had been thinking to leave the man who’d captured my wounded heart.”

  Temperance was happy for Gwendolyn and Patrick, but knew her circumstances were different. She was six months along when the accident in the mine had taken the life of her husband and his brother. She still dreamed of him—dreams so real, she swore she felt his solid form holding her close in the night.

  Not wanting to put a damper on their conversation, Temperance admitted, “I haven’t given a thought to anyone taking Paul’s place. We were happy together, though I knew his job in the mines was a dangerous one.”

  “Mum says Papa and Uncle Matt were the bravest men ever!” Maddy interjected.

  Temperance felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and could not afford to let them fall, even though it was just herself, Gwendolyn, and Maddy taking care of the babes. She needed to have a clear head, not remain lost in memories. Talking about the mine accident would take her back in time. She quickly changed the subject. “Maddy, didn’t Constance mention something about you helping her ice teacakes?”

  Maddy’s excitement was tangible as she threw herself into Temperance’s arms. Holding her tight, Temperance knew that this was what was important now. It would be more than enough because so much happiness radiated out of her daughter.

  Enough for three, her heart whispered.

  Just the two of us, her mind reminded her.

  With Flaherty, it could be three, her heart insisted.

  Gwendolyn tugged on the bellpull in the corner, interrupting Temperance’s jumbled thoughts. A few moments later, one of the footmen came to the door and Gwendolyn asked him to find out if Constance was ready for Maddy’s help.

  The young man smiled down at Maddy before nodding to Gwendolyn. “At once, Mrs. O’Malley.”

  A few minutes later, Francis arrived. “I’m here to relieve Maddy—and you too, Temperance. Constance is anxious for her special helper to taste-test the teacakes.”

  “That’s me!” Maddy squealed, then covered her mouth with both hands. Glancing to the cradles and back, she whispered, “Sorry, Mum.”

  “Try to remember not to raise your voice when the babes are sleeping, Maddy.”

  Deidre whimpered, but fell right back to sleep. “No harm done,” Gwendolyn said.

  “Yes, Mum. I didn’t mean to, but Constance needs me.” Maddy puffed up her chest and patted a hand to it. “I’m the bestest tester. She said so.”

  “I am quite certain that you are, Maddy dear.” Temperance held out her hand to her daughter, who took it. “Why don’t we go see if there is a job I can help Constance with?”

  Maddy frowned at her mother. “You’re supposed to rest.”

  “And where did you hear that?” Temperance had her suspicions, but wanted to see if Maddy would tell her without too much prompting.

  “You know who.” Her daughter’s little voice echoed in the servants’ staircase as they descended to the lower floor. “He’s worried ’bout you, Mum.” When Temperance didn’t respond, Maddy tugged on her hand. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, darling. I heard you. It is not polite to ask a question like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s intrusive.”

  “What’s that?” Maddy asked.

  “Putting your sweet little nose into someone else’s business.”

  “Like when you were asking Just Flaherty why he was following us?”

  Temperance had not been certain that her daughter had heard her demand that of Flaherty. She’d best decide how to answer. Maddy would keep asking over and over until she did. So Temperance decided to evade the question. “Did you know that you share a special quality with your father?”

  “I do?”

  “You definitely do.”

  “What?”

  “You are like a dog with a meaty bone, gnawing away at it until he’s satisfied he’s finished getting every scrap of meat and fat off it.”