“I will do that.” O’Brien’s gaze latched on to Flaherty’s. “I may need to ask a favor.”

  “Ye can ask, but I won’t guarantee that I’ll be able to do it.”

  “Are you handy with a needle and thread?”

  Flaherty’s laughter was his answer. “We’ll see that yer wounds are sewn back together, with boiled threads and a sharp needle that has been seared to lessen the chances of infection.”

  “I don’t deserve your kindness after letting me cock make decisions for me.”

  “Well now, ye wouldn’t be the first man to be led astray by a wanton woman,” Flaherty replied. “Ye won’t be the last.” His horse snorted, and Flaherty apologized, “I’m sorry to have mentioned it.”

  O’Brien stared. “How long have you been having conversations with your horse?”

  “Any Irishman has the gift—he just has to open his mind and become attuned to what his horse is thinking.”

  “No wonder you offered me a second chance,” O’Brien grumbled. “You’re insane.”

  Flaherty’s answering laughter followed them back to Wyndmere Hall.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Garahan’s mouth gaped open. “Have ye lost yer mind? The man shot ye in the face!”

  Flaherty shrugged. “Grazed me cheek. ’Twill be a scar worth talking about.”

  “Unless yer ugly mug scares Temperance or Maddy into changing their minds about marrying ye.”

  Flaherty wished his cousin hadn’t mentioned the one point that had burrowed into the back of his mind and taken root on the ride back to Wyndmere Hall. “They’re both made of sterner stuff than that. They won’t.”

  “Are ye asking or telling me?”

  Flaherty used his shoulder to knock his cousin off balance as he stepped around him. “I’ve got to take O’Brien to the outbuilding. I told him that’s where the four of us would interrogate him.” He slowly smiled. “I may have hinted that fists would be involved.” Garahan cackled with laughter, and Flaherty shook his head, “Ye sound more insane than meself, Aiden.”

  That shut his cousin up. He strode toward Flaherty and handed him a clean handkerchief. “Press this on yer face. I’m thinking ye need a stitch or two to stop the bleeding.”

  Worried that his cousin wouldn’t be open to listening, Flaherty asked, “And ye’ll hear O’Brien out? Ye won’t interrupt?”

  “’Tis me right to interrupt.” At Flaherty’s grunt of disapproval, Garahan added, “But eventually he’ll get to tell the whole tale, and yes, I’ll listen.”

  “’Tis all I’m asking. The real culprit is the innkeeper’s sister. If O’Brien hadn’t recognized me as one of the duke’s private guard, he may have seriously injured me.”

  Garahan studied Flaherty’s cheek. “As ye mentioned, ’tis but a scar.”

  Relief filled Flaherty. Only two more cousins to ask. The sainted O’Malleys would be the hardest to convince. He was deeply concerned about the innkeeper’s sister causing more trouble. She’d already spread her poison among the good people in the village, turning them against Temperance, and snared two men with promises to repay them with her allurements. Some men were weaker in that regard than others. Susana had managed to root out ones that were. “We need to have His Grace speak to the constable again. I’m thinking this will prove that the woman is a threat and unhinged.”

  “’Tis three things she’s done now,” Garahan replied. “The duke will have to agree that once may have been an error in judgment and unintentional, two instances suspect, but three times? Intentional.”

  Relieved his cousin had come around to his way of thinking, Flaherty added, “We’ll need the footmen to stand in our stead while we question O’Brien.”

  “I’ll speak to O’Malley first, then Humphries. Ye take care of O’Brien.”

  “I will. Garahan?”

  “Now what?”

  “As it’s nearly shift change, will ye ask O’Malley if he wants me to forego the last bit of the perimeter patrol and man me post outside the nursery?”

  “Don’t be forgetting he’s been in yer shoes, Flaherty. He’ll see right through yer request and know it for what it is—a chance to see Temperance and Maddy.”

  “Doesn’t matter as long as he grants it. I’ll take O’Brien to the outbuilding next to me quarters. Would ye ask Constance to have boiled threads at the ready? O’Brien’ll need to be stitched up.”

  “Anything else?”

  “If I think of anything, ye’ll be the first to know.”

  “Lucky me,” Garahan muttered. He walked toward the front of the building and headed toward the ladder leading to the roof. He called over his shoulder, “What if O’Malley wants ye to finish out yer perimeter patrol?”

  “He won’t.” Flaherty was confident that his cousin would agree. The next difficult conversation would be the one with Temperance about his minor injury. He hoped she would not change her mind. He sensed she was a strong and courageous woman, but she needed to believe herself able to accept the daily possibility that he would walk into a dangerous situation at any given time. She had to trust in his strength and ability to handle himself against overwhelming odds. Their future depended on it.

  “Lord, ’tis Flaherty again—er, Rory. I could use a bit of Yer divine intervention convincing Temperance she’s brave enough to handle whatever happens to me while performing me duties.”

  As his concern faded, he nodded to O’Brien, who dismounted. The two men walked their horses to the stables and turned them over to the stable master. “Don’t be forgetting extra oats for both horses.”

  “I haven’t forgotten yet, Flaherty.”

  “Faith, ye’re a good man and finest of stable masters.” Flaherty turned and nodded to O’Brien. “This way.”

  O’Brien was silent as Flaherty led him along the path from the stables to the outbuildings—one was the guards’ quarters where they all used to sleep before his cousins got tangled up with the women they’d rescued and started marrying the lasses to protect them.

  Just like you are now.

  Lord willing.

  *

  Humphries opened the door and greeted the frazzled-looking man standing on the duke’s doorstep. He looked vaguely familiar. “May I tell His Grace who is calling?”

  “Harkness—I own the inn in the village.”

  “Ah, Mr. Harkness, please come in.” When the innkeeper entered, Humphries closed the door behind him. “If you’ll kindly wait here, I will see if His Grace has time to meet with you.”

  “Thank you.” Harkness glanced around, wondering how receptive the duke would be to helping him find his sister. It was almost ludicrous to ask, considering his sister’s recent actions. But the duke had been generous in offering his staff and his personal guard when one of the villagers needed help. And he needed help. “Why did you have to stir up trouble for one of the duke’s men, Susana?”

  He turned at the sound of footsteps approaching.

  Humphries inclined his head. “If you’ll follow me, His Grace will see you now.”

  Unused to being in such grand surroundings, Harkness glanced at his surroundings once more. The staircase was enormous, and there were footmen stationed at various points above him, and in the entryway and hall. He wondered how the duke became accustomed to having so many servants. He was often surrounded by people, but they were not usually members of the ton. The Duke of Wyndmere wasn’t just a member of Society—he was among the top tier.

  Humphries knocked and was bidden to enter. “Mr. Harkness from the inn, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Humphries.”

  Dismissed, the butler retreated, leaving Harkness alone with the duke. The topic of his sister weighed heavily on him. He’d been responsible for her after their parents died, and given her behavior of late, he felt as if he’d failed both their parents and his sister. She was not demure or gracious, nor could even be called a hoyden. Susana Harkness was a hellion!

  “Harkness, welcome to Wyndmere Hall. Won’t you have a seat and tell me what brings you here today?”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” He sat in one of the leather wingback chairs in front of the fireplace. Shifting to the edge of the seat, he didn’t know where to start. Should he ask for help finding his missing sister? If the rumors circulating were false, then Susana had knowingly caused irreparable damage to an innocent woman’s reputation, and that of a child. He needed to find her and demand to know why she would do something that vile. But how to frame the apology so that the duke would understand and be swayed to help him? His Grace needed to understand that Harkness was to blame…not his younger sister.

  “It would appear that whatever brought you here is weighing heavy on your mind. Have you come for advice? I regularly offer sound advice, but my darling duchess rarely heeds it. Though she does have the courtesy to listen before ignoring it.”

  Harkness snorted, then cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect. My sister has the same unfortunate habit.”

  “Ah. Have you come to speak of Miss Harkness?”

  The tone of the duke’s voice hinted that he knew what Susana had done. “You Grace, I must apologize for my sister. You see—”

  “Is that why you came?”

  Harkness stared at the floor. “In part, Your Grace.”

  “Why don’t we get to the other part of why you came first? Then we can discuss the rest.”

  He lifted his head and met the duke’s steady gaze. “My sister is missing—she’s a few hours overdue for her shift in the taproom. She has a habit of strolling in late, but never this late. I’ve asked the vicar and the blacksmith to help form a search party, and they agreed to help—if one of your men would organize it, as they graciously have in the past.”

  The duke rose from his seat. “Patrick O’Malley, the head of my private guard, is the man we need for this. How late is she?”

  “Three hours.”

  “Then we’d best make haste, Harkness. We’ll use the side door at the end of the hallway. The path to the stables is right outside the door.”

  Before the duke reached the door, Harkness stepped in front of him. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but there’s something you need to know before you enlist O’Malley’s help.”

  The duke raised one brow in silent question.

  “My sister has developed an attraction to one of your men…Flaherty. I thought it was an infatuation and would pass, but it hasn’t.”

  “I see.”

  He wrung his hands. “To be honest, Your Grace, I have learned this is not the first time my sister has used her wiles to get her way. Our cook informed me that Susana convinced one of our younger stable hands to spy on Flaherty.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “My guard has eyes and ears in places you would not even think of. Anything else?”

  Harkness swallowed what pride he had left. “Aye, Your Grace. A recently hired stable hand walked out a few hours ago, after only mucking out half of the stalls. My hostler hired the man and was confident that O’Brien would be an asset to those already working in our stables. He’s never misjudged a man before.”

  “And you believe this O’Brien has lured your sister away from the inn?”

  Harkness felt his throat tighten, and knew it would be a struggle to tell the duke the rest, but he had to impart what he’d just learned. “I suspect, but do not have evidence. One of the younger hands reporting to Scruggs said he saw my sister leading O’Brien to the tack room at the back of the stables.”

  “I see.”

  Before the duke formed the wrong conclusion, Harkness went on to explain, “Curious—the young man hung around to see how long they would be gone before reporting it to Scruggs. ’Twasn’t long enough to…” He could not bring himself to say anymore.

  The duke inclined his head. “You need not say any more—however, I can relieve your mind on one point. I happen to know where O’Brien is. Your sister is not with him.”

  “Where?”

  “My men are currently interrogating him.”

  He felt the blood rush from the top of his head to his feet. “Please do not tell me the man came here to cause trouble.”

  “Actually, that may have been his intention until he realized whom he had in his sights. O’Brien was perched in a tree on the road leading around the southern perimeter of my estate.”

  “Perched?” Harkness felt his gut roil. Tree? “Bloody hell, who did he shoot?”

  “Flaherty.”

  Harkness slumped against the wall. “I had no idea. I was inside tending to our guests. I cannot be in two places at one time—”

  “No one would expect you to be. Now that you know where your sister isn’t, let’s speak to O’Malley and organize a search party to find her.”

  “She’s the only family I have left. I am so sorry that she’s caused you trouble, and I have no right to ask. You see, I have been trying to balance the running of our family’s inn and her behavior. I’ve sheltered her when I should have been stern with her. Susana has no idea what could befall a young woman on her own.”

  The duke placed a hand on Harkness’s shoulder. “I have been in your position with my younger brother, and managed to encourage him onto the right path. You’ll do the same, Harkness. Let’s find O’Malley.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The duchess beamed. “You are going to be a beautiful bride, Temperance.”

  Maddy bounced on her toes. “Me too?”

  “You’ll be the most beautiful daughter of the bride, Maddy,” the duchess replied.

  Maddy giggled. “I know.”

  “I have a feeling I know who may have already told you that,” Francis said.

  Maddy twirled across the upstairs sitting room and landed at her mother’s feet. “Just Flaherty told me. And you know what?”

  The three women were smiling when Francis asked, “What?”

  “I heard him tell Mum that she would be as lovely as a May morning, and taste just as sweet.”

  Temperance covered her mouth with her hands, but it was too late—the duchess, the maid, and her daughter heard her inelegant snort. Highly embarrassed, she told Maddy, “You should not be listening to other people’s conversations.” When her daughter opened her mouth to speak, Temperance frowned. “Nor should you repeat private conversations.”

  “But he said he’s going to be my da—that’s the same as a papa, right?”

  “Yes, darling, but you cannot—”

  Maddy interrupted, “But you aren’t a scone or teacake. So why would say you’d taste sweet?”

  Temperance felt her face flame, but she ignored it. “I shall tell you when you are a bit older. Then we shall have a serious talk.”

  “Mum and papa stuff?”

  “Exactly.”

  Maddy sighed. “All right.” She was quiet for a few minutes, and Temperance wondered if that would be the end of her daughter’s embarrassing questions.

  “How much older do I have to be before we talk?”

  Apparently it wasn’t.

  “At least five years.”

  “But I’ll be nine by then.”

  “Just the right age to have that talk with your mum, Maddy,” the duchess remarked. “Why don’t you go with Francis? She will help you change out of your new dress. You’ll want it to be nice and clean for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “’Cause Mum and I will marry Just Flaherty tomorrow?”

  Temperance opened her arms, and Maddy flew across the room into them. “Because Rory and I will be married tomorrow, and we’ll be a family.”

  “I’ll have a papa?”

  “Yes, Maddy. Now go along with Francis. I’ll be there shortly.”

  As soon as the door closed behind Maddy and Francis, the duchess burst into laughter. “Is this what I have to look forward to in a few years with Abigail and Richard?”

  Temperance brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and shrugged. “This was a first for me. I hadn’t even thought of having a talk with Maddy about marriage and babes yet.”

  “You’ll need to have the conversation about her monthlies by then, too,” the duchess advised. “I still remember how awkward it was when my mother shared that information with me. I plan to make it less so when I talk to my daughter.”

  “I cannot even begin to imagine having to describe the marriage bed and birthing babes,” Temperance admitted.

  The duchess sighed. “I hope I’ll be able to impart more information than my mother shared with me. As it was, I had to muddle through, but thankfully my husband was understanding.”

  Temperance confided, “My mum told me to close my eyes and it would be over in a few minutes.”

  They were still laughing by the time Temperance had changed into her gown. They arrived in the nursery sitting room in time to find their tea was ready and waiting for them.

  Temperance was sipping her second cup of tea, and Maddy eating her third—and last—iced teacake when the duke appeared in the doorway. “I thought I’d find you ladies here. Temperance, Flaherty needs to have a word with you before he leaves.”

  “Leaves? Where is he going?”

  “We’ve organized search parties. He wanted to speak to you before he heads out.”

  Worry filled Temperance. “Is it another lost child?”

  “In a way, but no, not really.”

  At the duke’s oddly evasive answer, Temperance told Maddy to stay with Francis and the duchess and followed the duke to the servants’ staircase. “He’s waiting for you at the foot of the stairs.” The duke paused before adding, “He’s leading one of the teams from the village.”

  “I see. Thank you for telling me, Your Grace.” She placed her hand on the railing, lifted her hem so she wouldn’t trip, and descended. The door opened before she reached the bottom step.

  “Ah, lass. I was wondering what kept ye. Did the duke tell ye I’m needed?”

  Temperance noticed the wound slashing across his cheek. “You’ve been hurt.”

  “’Tis but a scratch.”

  She counted five stitches. “It must have bled quite a bit.”

  “Wounds to the head and face always do. I need ye to listen.”