“Papa used to chew on bones?”

  Temperance laughed. “No. I was giving you an example.”

  “I didn’t like that one.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll think of another one.” She opened the door and stepped into the hallway leading to the kitchen.

  “I bet I know who could think of one,” Maddy quipped.

  Temperance had to agree. “I am quite certain he could.”

  A short while later, she watched Maddy staring at the array of sweets they’d had a hand in preparing. While Constance sliced sandwiches into tiny triangles and rectangles, Temperance carefully arranged delicate china cake plates on the large tray.

  “May I have a teacake, scone, and a berry tart?” Maddy asked.

  The cook smiled. “I think your mum will want you to have a sandwich or two first.”

  Maddy frowned. “But they aren’t sweet.”

  Temperance had to laugh at her little one. Maddy always said what she was thinking. She wished she felt comfortable enough to do the same, but she was not a child any longer. Life was far more complicated once one reached adulthood. Consequences kept most people from speaking their minds.

  For some reason, her mind called up the image of a certain broad-shouldered, auburn-haired giant’s soft blue eyes. Flaherty had certainly not held back what he had been thinking.

  Instead of holding on to the thought that he was controlling, her heart warmed and her mind held on to the possibility that he truly cared for Maddy and her and was trying to protect them.

  “Mum? Can I?”

  “I’m sorry, my mind strayed.”

  Maddy’s exaggerated sigh had Temperance wondering what that was all about. She did not have to wonder for long, as Maddy blurted out, “Woolgathering.”

  Constance met Temperance’s gaze. “Who was woolgathering?”

  Maddy shrugged. “Mum.”

  “Your mother has been helping almost as much as you have been,” Constance reminded her. “Even when she should be resting.”

  Maddy’s green eyes widened as she rushed over to her mother. “Do you need a nap?”

  Temperance laughed softly. “I won’t sleep a wink tonight if I do.”

  Her daughter slipped a hand in hers and that mischievous smile slowly revealed itself. “Me neither.”

  In that moment, when her blonde-haired cherub smiled up at her, Temperance had a feeling her daughter wanted more than iced teacakes. What in Heaven’s name would she do if Maddy continued to fawn over Flaherty? Would he understand that it was because she’d never had a father’s love and attention? Temperance would have to speak to Flaherty about this and warn him. What worried her was that Maddy had never lavished attention on any man. She had singled out Flaherty from the start.

  “Teatime.” Constance’s kind look eased the tension between Temperance’s shoulder blades. “I need the two of you to help me serve the tea.” She motioned to one of the footmen stationed in the hallway. “Send someone to the nursery and ask Francis to see if the duchess is still resting. If not, she’ll be ready to sit down to tea.”

  The footman reappeared with the news that Her Grace was hungry.

  “Well then, please take this tray up to the nursery sitting room.” Constance turned and waved her hand at Temperance and Maddy. “I know Her Grace would love to have you take tea with her.”

  Maddy skipped toward the servants’ staircase. Constance lifted her skirts and waited for Maddy to join her. “Can you reach the railing?”

  Maddy shook her head. “I hold Mum’s hand.”

  Constance glanced over her shoulder. “Is it all right with you if Maddy holds my hand and you follow behind us?”

  Temperance’s heart warmed. The duke’s cook was a thoughtful woman who enjoyed children almost as much as feeding the duke and his household. “Of course. Maddy dear, pick up your hem like I taught you. I’m right behind you.”

  The three took their time, as Maddy’s legs were not quite big enough to negotiate the height of the risers easily. Halfway up, Temperance knew her daughter was getting frustrated. “What a good job you’ve done, Maddy. Let me carry you the rest of the way.”

  “But I want to do it myself,” her daughter protested.

  “And you have, sweet girl,” Constance soothed her. “I wish someone would carry me up the stairs.”

  Distracted, Maddy allowed Temperance to lift her onto her hip. “Know what, Mum?”

  Temperance smiled when Constance moved to stand behind them. “Thank you, Constance.”

  Maddy patted her face to get her attention. “Know what?” she repeated.

  “What?”

  “Just Flaherty could carry Constance up the stairs.”

  Temperance had no doubt that he could.

  “But he can’t.”

  Intrigued by the way her daughter leaned close to whisper that last comment, she wondered if she had missed something important. “Why is that?”

  “’Cause he and Garahan went to the inn.”

  “Ah, he is on patrol to the village.”

  Maddy shook her head, leaving Temperance to wonder what she was up to. Normally her daughter would tell her every last detail of news. She braced herself as she asked, “Why else would he go to the inn with Garahan?”

  Maddy laid her head on Temperance’s breast and sighed. “The mean whispers started there.”

  Temperance strove to hide the emotions churning inside of her as Constance reached around them to open the door at the top of the stairs. Stepping through into the upstairs hallway, Temperance set her daughter on her feet and asked Constance, “Is there anything I should know?”

  The firm set of the cook’s jaw surprised Temperance, until Constance put her arm around her and held out a hand to Maddy. “Come along. I’m certain the duchess is waiting to pour our tea.”

  Temperance had a feeling the mean whispers were about her—and her beautiful daughter. Wherever they went, no matter how kind and caring she and Maddy were, there was always someone ready to hint that she was not all she seemed. The nicest gossip had been that she had not been married. The worst of the tales that had caused them to continue on their journey to another town was the one claiming she wasn’t Maddy’s mum…and that she’d kidnapped her! She could never understand why people who had never met her could hold such a low opinion of her.

  Her heart raced again. The evil things strangers assumed—and said—about her sliced through to her soul. She worried that Their Graces would be adversely affected by the slanderous talk. She and Maddy should leave. How could she stay when someone may think to censure the duke for opening his home to her and Maddy? With a heavy heart, she knew what must be done.

  Lord, please forgive those who start the rumors. And please, please lead us to a safe haven. I’m so tired…

  Chapter Twelve

  Flaherty and Garahan reined in at Wyndmere Hall to shouts and chaos. “What in the bloody hell is going on?” Flaherty demanded.

  One of the tenant farmers stopped mid-stride. “’Tis the little lass—she’s gone missing.”

  Flaherty frowned. “Abigail?”

  “Deidre?” Garahan asked at the same time.

  Patrick O’Malley paused in the middle of organizing the search parties. “’Tis Miss Maddy.”

  For the first time in his life, Flaherty understood the saying about one’s blood running cold. His mind whirled with questions he needed to ask, but he could not make his mouth work. The cold was debilitating.

  “What in the feck is wrong with ye, Flaherty?” O’Malley asked. “Move yer arse and take charge of the tenant farmers. They’ll be searching to the south.”

  Eyes blazing, a tearing pain in his heart, Flaherty sprinted to the back door. Calling her name as he yanked it open, he nearly plowed into Temperance. “What happened? How long has she been gone?”

  “We were having tea upstairs when I noticed she was quiet. I carried her to the room we have been using and tucked her in and lay beside her.” Tears streamed from her eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice. “It’s all my fault. I should never have closed my eyes.”

  Flaherty grabbed hold of her upper arms. “How long ago?”

  “But don’t you see—”

  “Aye, lass. I do. Ye’re worried sick, but ye need to snap out of it and tell me, was it one hour? Two? Three?”

  Her voice was just above a whisper. “Two.” She curled her hands into the lapels of his frockcoat. “Please help me find my little girl! You don’t understand—”

  Flaherty needed her cooperation, not conversation! He slid a hand to her waist, the other behind her head, and molded his mouth to hers to shut her up. It was a kiss of frustration. Fear. Promise. “I’ll find her. Ye need to stay here in case she returns from having a lark, looking for the fae.”

  “Flaherty?”

  He did not have time for this, but he spun around. Walking backward to the door, he growled. “What?”

  “If she’s lost, she’ll be waiting for you to find her. She trusts you.”

  His resolve clicked into place. “Ye should too.” He stalked outside and shook his head at O’Malley. “No time. The wee cailín’s counting on me to find her.”

  “Ye’re heading the wrong way!” Patrick shouted.

  “The meadow filled with flowers is to the north. Send someone else to the south with the tenant farmers.” Flaherty turned to the men waiting, pleased it was the Jones brothers on horseback and their eldest sons on foot. They could handle rifles and pistols and had fought bravely when Wyndmere Hall was under attack. Farmers were used to finding stray sheep and a cow or two. “Ye know the meadow I’m meaning?”

  Samuel Jones nodded. “Aye.”

  “Our daughters pick wildflowers for the duchess in that field,” his younger brother Silas added.

  Flaherty gave a nod. “I’m thinking two on horseback leading the way, two on foot behind them, while I bring up the rear. There’s a chance the wee lass has tripped and bumped her head, or climbed a tree and got stuck.”

  “Why do ye think she’s headed to the meadow?” Samuel’s son asked.

  “Earlier this morning we were in the gardens waiting and watching for the fae,” Flaherty replied.

  Silas nodded. “I remember those days well. Our girls are a bit older now, but every once in a while they’d try to sneak out before dawn for the same reason.”

  Flaherty was glad for the help, pleased he had a few experts in faerie hunting and flower picking in his search party.

  He watched the others move out and lagged behind, waiting, watching, listening. The noise of men gathered and splitting up into groups quieted, until all he could hear was the breeze. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a whisper on the wind? Closing his eyes, he lifted his chin and let it caress his face.

  The meadow pond.

  Urged on by unseen forces, ones he was Irish enough to trust, Flaherty caught up to the brothers on horseback. “I’m going to the meadow pond. Keep searching!”

  They didn’t question Flaherty’s order. They’d lived near faerie hill forts long enough to have heard voices on the wind and singing in the night. “He’ll find her, but we’d best keep looking,” Samuel murmured.

  “Aye,” his brother agreed. “Susana may have sent someone else from the village to spy on His Grace and poor Mrs. Johnson.”

  “Keep searching, boys!” Samuel said.

  With a nod, their sons split up, each taking a side of the road to scour. The pace was slow, but leaving no stone unturned was how they had found their sister the time she ran off chasing butterflies.

  *

  Maddy couldn’t move another step. Exhausted, she sat down near the pond, wishing she had caught the beautiful faerie with the rainbow wings. She hadn’t been watching the path ahead of her, and had tripped and scraped her knee. It stung and was bleeding. Maddy didn’t like blood.

  Pulling her knees to her chest, she leaned her chin on her hands. She wished Just Flaherty were here. He’d carry her home to Mum, and Constance would give her scones and tea.

  Tears welled up and she brushed them away. Mum only cried at night when she thought no one would hear her…but Maddy heard. So she tried to be brave like her mum and not cry. It wasn’t dark yet, but she wasn’t certain she could find her way home. She’d been looking up, following the faerie that flew above her head, not paying attention to her surroundings.

  Now, even the faerie was gone. She was alone, and the sun was hiding behind dark clouds. She was scared. Would she ever see Mum again?

  There was a sound behind her. Was it a person or an animal? Maddy wanted to see, but tucked in among the reeds by the pond, she was too short. She’d have to stand up, but she was afraid to. Despite her vow not to cry, a few tears escaped, but she wiped them away. When she lowered her hands, she noticed they were damp and streaked with dirt.

  Worried that her knee was still bleeding, Maddy lifted her hem and stared at the trickle of blood that ran from where the skin was scraped off. It looked scary. Her knee hurt and she wanted her mum! She should try to stop the bleeding, but her hands were dirty. Mum would want her to clean her hands before she touched the scrape.

  She tilted her head back and watched as two magpies flew over her head. Whenever Mum saw two together, she reminded Maddy that it was good luck! A glance around her, and she wondered—how could her luck be good if no one ever found her? Was anyone looking for her at all? Devastated at the thought that no one but her mother would be looking for her, Maddy sat down hard. “I want my mum!”

  Worn out from walking and worrying, she lay down, tucked her hands beneath her cheek, and closed her eyes. She thought she heard a voice, but it sounded so far away that she wondered if it were thunder. Sniffing back the tears that threatened, she drifted into dreams where a big man with red hair and blue eyes rode up on a horse and scooped her off the ground. She nestled into his arms, shivering. But he tucked her inside his big coat. Warm again, she sighed and dreamed the red-haired man would marry her mum.

  *

  “Ye poor wee lass. Don’t cry. I’ve got ye.” Flaherty swallowed against the lump of emotion in his throat and sent up a prayer of thanks to God, and another to the fae who had sent him the message on the breeze. He’d found Maddy at the meadow pond, nestled among the reeds.

  He ground his back teeth when he noticed the blood on her gown. Carefully lifting it to her knees, he noticed one had a trickle of blood flowing from where it had been scraped raw. “Poor lamb. I’ll wrap it up.” Removing his cravat, he gently folded it and wrapped it around her knee. Drawing her gown back down, he glanced over his shoulder to where his horse stood patiently waiting for him. “We’ve found her, laddie. She won’t add much to the weight I’ll be asking ye to carry.” His horse snorted. “She does weigh a bit more than thistledown, but not by much.”

  Maddy hiccupped and shivered in her sleep. The air blowing in with the storm was chilly. Flaherty knew he had to get her warm quickly. He scooped her into his arms and settled her against his heart, tucking his coat around her. She was a tiny thing, for all of her big personality. Mounting his horse, he shifted the little girl until she was snug against him. “Yer ma’s worried about ye, lass. Let’s go home.”

  Home. The word vibrated right through to Flaherty’s soul. It had felt like home once Temperance and her daughter were staying at Wyndmere Hall. They’d become a part of his life, and had been welcomed among the rest of the guard and the household staff—and, more importantly, accepted by the duke and duchess as if they were extended family. Would the duke help him if he asked him to obtain a special license? He had for the others. Flaherty hoped His Grace would do the same for him, because he did not intend to go another sennight without asking Temperance Johnson to be his wife and Maddy to be his daughter.

  The wee lass sneezed, and he hoped she would not catch cold. There were plans to be made. A woman to woo. And best of all, the possibility of a life he’d never thought he deserved to have just within reach.

  All he had to do was ask.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Flaherty rode at an even pace, following the path he’d ridden to the meadow pond. Finding the Jones brothers, he realized they had not been that far behind him.

  “You found her?” Samuel asked.

  “Aye. Poor wee thing was sleeping in the reeds by the pond.”

  Silas frowned. “She could have fallen in.”

  Hadn’t Flaherty thought the same thing himself a short while ago? “God watches over lost lambs.”

  The two men agreed, and Samuel informed Flaherty, “Our sons are just a mile or so behind us.”

  “Let’s head back to Wyndmere Hall,” Silas said. “Her mum will be so happy you’ve found her, Flaherty.”

  “That she will, Silas. Let’s find yer sons.”

  A mile closer to home, they came upon the boys. Flaherty sensed the tension in the air before they reined in their horses. The boys were a short distance away, huddled together and staring at the ground. “What do you think they found?”

  “What makes you think they found anything?” Silas asked.

  Sanuel pitched his voice low. “Look at how rigid they’re standing.”

  “Aye, they’ve found something,” Flaherty mumbled. “I don’t want to wake Maddy—one of ye dismount and find out.”

  “Aye.” Samuel walked over to the boys. Soon he was leaning over, studying something on the ground. He shook his head and straightened. “I’ll tell Flaherty what you’ve found, then we’ll bury the poor thing. You and Stephen head on back to Wyndmere Hall.”

  “What about Maddy?” his son Edwin asked.

  Samuel smiled. “Flaherty found her sleeping by the pond.”

  “I’m glad he did.”

  He patted his son’s back. “Me too.” Samuel took one last look at the bedraggled pup, shook his head, turned, and heard a yip. “Well I’ll be.” He knelt and carefully lifted the injured animal into his arms. “We’ll take you back to our farm and fix you up.”

  Edwin was staring at the puppy in his father’s arms. “We thought he was dead. He wasn’t moving, and the blood…”

  Samuel untied the cloth wrapped around his neck. “Wrap this around his belly to stop the bleeding.”