“Mum, are you all right?”

  Her head ached abominably, but she strove to ignore it to assure her daughter that she was fine. “Yes, quite all right, Maddy dear.” She turned to the cook. “No one has complained to me. But please send Maddy back if she ‘helps’ too much. She can keep me company while I rest.”

  “One can never have too much help from willing workers,” Constance replied. “Now then, Maddy, I could use an expert stirrer to help mix up a batch of scones.”

  The unabashed joy on her little girl’s face soothed Temperance’s soul. Maddy had been smiling ever since Mr. Flaherty—No, he’d corrected them, and Maddy had been calling him Just Flaherty since he’d rescued them. Was it yesterday, or the day before? It was difficult to remember when one’s brains were heated near to boiling.

  “Rest now, Mrs. Johnson. Maddy and I have a mountain of scones to bake.”

  Curious, Temperance asked, “A mountain?”

  Her daughter bobbed her head up and down. “We have to bake for teatime, and extra for the charmers.”

  Temperance frowned. Had guests that she was unaware of arrived? Not that she expected anyone to share that information with her—she was of no consequence. She would be the last person to be informed as to whether the duke and duchess were receiving guests. She was only here because of the kindness of the handsome guard with light-blue eyes that seemed to see into her soul.

  Protective of her daughter’s safety, thinking of some of the unscrupulous people she had worked for, she asked, “Charmers?”

  “Those handsome-as-sin Irishmen who work for His Grace,” Constance replied. Holding out her hand to Maddy, she added, “We’d best get busy, Miss Maddy.”

  The little girl’s laughter echoed off the walls and filled the room with a lightness that had been missing.

  “Well now,” a familiar deep voice rumbled from the doorway. “There’s a welcome sight of a morning.”

  “Just Flaherty!” Maddy rushed over to the guard, who bent down to catch her as she hurtled across the room. “We were talking about you.”

  He was smiling—was he amused at the way her daughter had taken to calling him Just Flaherty? Temperance would have to explain to Maddy that Flaherty did not want to be addressed as Mr. Flaherty, but wasn’t sure if her little one would understand. “Were ye now?” His gaze sought Temperance’s. “No doubt expounding on tales of how I rescued two lovely lasses halfway between the inn and Wyndmere Hall.”

  Maddy giggled. “No.”

  “No?” He brushed a hand over Maddy’s curls—so like Temperance’s late husband’s. Unbidden tears filled her eyes and threatened to fall. Flaherty’s expression changed in an instant. He hugged Maddy, motioned for her to return to Constance, and strode toward the cot.

  As if the cook sensed what the guard wanted to ask, the woman held out her hand a second time. “Come, Miss Maddy, we’ve baking to do.” With a nod to Flaherty, she warned, “I’m leaving the door open. You may have five minutes, Flaherty—no more. Mrs. Johnson needs her rest.”

  When they were alone, his expression darkened—was it concern, or something altogether different? Pretending not to notice how intently he stared at her, Temperance shifted her gaze to the doorway. “I hope Constance is not exaggerating, and that Maddy is a help, not a hindrance.”

  “Yer daughter could never be a hindrance. Constance doesn’t exaggerate—’tis Francis who is given to exaggerating, and she uses it to great effect when making up stories to tell Richard and Abigail—little Deidre too—when it’s her turn in the nursery.”

  Temperance could well imagine. Maddy repeated everything the young maid said.

  It had been a very long time since she’d felt the pull of attraction to a man. She paused to wonder. Why him? Why now? She did not believe it was because she was more or less a captive audience when he visited her—which seemed to happen whenever the guard changed shifts.

  Uneasy with the way she reacted to a man she hardly knew, and concerned that her daughter had formed a friendship with him, she repeated her concern. “In my experience, children are frowned upon when one is widowed and looking for work. I will not repeat the phrase I heard repeatedly from those who turned me away without the courtesy of an interview.” The words were etched in her brain: Children are insufferable, loud, annoying, and a hindrance to those of us forced to deal with them!

  *

  Flaherty had a few minutes to spare and sensed there was more to the lass’s comment. Something that carved deep worry lines on her forehead. “Do ye mind if I sit? I have a moment or two before I’m to report to the rooftop for me shift.”

  “I do not mind, but please do not be late on my account. You’ve done so much for us.”

  Flaherty sat. “I’m thinking there are those in yer recent past who have not done enough for ye.” He wasn’t one to mince words, and had had his fill of trying to discern the meaning of what most of those in the ton had said. Thankfully, His Grace was a man who believed in speaking his mind and getting to the point.

  Now, telling a tale over a tankard of ale, or sharing a flask of whiskey, was another matter altogether. That would be the time for adding a wee bit of exaggeration to enhance a tale to get a reaction from his brothers or cousins.

  When she didn’t respond, he prompted her, “Ye’ve no worry that I’ll be repeating what ye tell me in confidence, if that’s what’s holding ye back.” Her eyes lifted, and the mix of pain and worry lanced through to his soul. He reached for her hand and patted the back of it. “Growing up, Ma was always telling us not to hold troubles too close to our hearts, but to share them to lighten our burdens.”

  “Share them?”

  Her hesitation worried Flaherty. Had someone spoken harshly to the lass? He’d need to question Merry, Constance, and Francis closely, as they’d been caring for the lass during the worst of the fever that had held her in its grip these last few days.

  Decision made, he was determined to get Temperance to open up and share her worries with him. He wanted to be the man she shared them with. His shoulders were broad enough to handle the load he carried working for the duke, as well as any burden this slip of a lass had. “Do ye have a close friend, sister, or brother ye share yer woes with?”

  She shook her head.

  “Have ye any kin?”

  Again, she shook her head, but this time she looked away from him.

  “None at all?”

  No answer this time. Moved by the fact that the lass and her little girl were all alone in the world, Flaherty scooted the chair right up next to the cot and brushed a strand of ink-black hair out of her eyes. When she did not flinch or move away from him, he lightly traced the tip of his finger from her prominent cheekbone to the hollow beneath it…evidence that the lass had not been getting enough to eat.

  “That would explain why ye look as if ye’re starving yerself, Temperance.”

  Her gasp and irritated gaze were just what he’d hoped for. Her full attention was riveted on him. Flaherty intended to have at least one of his questions answered.

  “When was the last time ye ate yer fill?” Temperance hesitated just long enough to ignite his temper. “’Tis plain to anyone with an ounce of sense and clear vision that yer darling daughter has been eating well. She’s got roses in her cheeks, a joyful expression on her face, and runs Merry, Constance, and Francis ragged trying to keep up with her.”

  When she remained silent, he leaned closer than was proper—but he needed her to understand how dire her situation was. “Me grandda worked his fingers to the bone to feed his family when their potato crop failed two years in a row. Da and his brothers helped, but Grandda went too long without eating to ensure that me da and uncles ate their fill. He never fully regained his strength. You’d know how important the growing years are to a child, because sure as I’m sitting here staring at yer hollow cheeks, I recognize the signs.”

  She closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall.

  Flaherty shot to his feet. “Ye’ve a right to care for yer daughter the way ye see fit, but to refuse food when it’s offered to ye is a sin!”

  He spun around, intending to leave, and froze. “Yer Grace. I didn’t know ye were standing there.”

  The duchess frowned. “I hope you haven’t spent the last few minutes haranguing Mrs. Johnson. She needs her rest, Rory, not to be chastised by the man who rescued her and her daughter.”

  “I beg yer pardon, Yer Grace.”

  “I believe you should be begging Mrs. Johnson’s.” She leveled him with a look he was more than familiar with, having felt the weight of it whenever he’d disappointed his ma.

  He inclined his head and turned around. The look of surprise on Temperance’s face had him wondering: Had the lass been mistreated by her employers? “Her Grace is right.” He glanced over his shoulder to add, “And usually is.” When the duchess’s frown faded, he turned back to the woman on the cot. “Forgive me for taking me worry ye out on ye.” Raking a hand through his hair, he groaned. “’Tis been eating at me gut since I found ye beneath that oak by the graveyard. But ye need to understand—”

  “Where in the bloody hell are ye, Flaherty?” O’Malley’s voice echoed through the hallway. “I’d best not find ye’ve been sweet-talking the lass when ye’re supposed to be relieving Garahan from his shift on the rooftop!” His cousin’s sharply indrawn breath and immediate apology, when he saw the duchess, almost had Flaherty smiling. But one look at the duchess’s face and he swallowed the grin.

  “Apology accepted, Patrick,” the duchess replied. “However, you should know that Rory was in fact raising his voice to Mrs. Johnson.”

  The intensity and temper in the duchess’s eyes had the head of the duke’s guard turning his ire on Flaherty. “Report to yer post immediately. Ye’re not to stop and speak to Mrs. Johnson again without permission.”

  Flaherty’s back went up. “You cannot tell me—”

  “Explain yourselves,” a deep voice boomed from behind them. “At once!”

  “Were you looking for me, Jared?”

  The duke entered the room and paused to study his wife’s face. “You know you are to keep your emotions on an even keel.” Sliding his hand around her waist, he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Flaherty had had a feeling that Her Grace was with child, and the duke’s words confirmed it. A glance at O’Malley was telling. He already knew of the duchess’s condition. No wonder he was issuing orders he normally would not have.

  “Your Grace?”

  The high-pitched voice had Flaherty wondering what Constance had been thinking to send Maddy into what could turn into a loud discussion. Every one of the duke’s guard knew that the duchess had been slow to recover after discovering she was carrying again…only to lose the babe a few weeks later. He held his breath and prayed that the duke would temper his anger-laced worry when speaking to the little girl.

  Relief speared through Flaherty at how quickly the duke’s frown vanished. “Miss Maddy, did Constance send you with an important message for me?”

  She nodded and clapped her hands together. “Tea’s ready!” She stepped closer to the duke and motioned for him to bend down. When he complied, she whispered something in his ear that had the duke smiling.

  “Indeed! Well then, my darling duchess, it seems I am to join you shortly. Miss Maddy will escort you to the sitting room. I shall be along in a few minutes.” The duke watched the little girl take the duchess’s hand and lead her away from the room.

  “O’Malley, inform the men that they are to moderate their voices to an even tone and volume. Any and all outbursts will have to wait until they are away from the house. Differences will be settled in the outbuilding, and no one—I repeat, no one—will arrive for their shifts with blood on their faces or knuckles. Understood?”

  Flaherty knew then that the duke was terrified his wife would miscarry again. Before his cousin replied, he assured His Grace, “Ye have me word that we’ll moderate our voices to what Her Grace likes to refer to as our inside voices.”

  “And the men will not let their tempers show in front of Her Grace.” O’Malley paused and nodded to Temperance. “Or yerself, Mrs. Johnson. Forgive me for losing me temper in front of ye, when ye are still recoverin’.”

  Flaherty watched her shocked surprise smooth into an expression of wonder. “There is nothing to forgive, Mr. O’Malley. I should not even be here, and will hopefully be able to leave tomorrow.”

  “What’s this?” the duke asked. “You have barely recovered. It would be unconscionable for my wife or me to let you leave before we are assured that you will not have a relapse. I shall summon the physician to see you again. I have no doubt that he will reiterate his diagnosis that you require at least a sennight to recover.”

  “Please do not go to the trouble. I’m certain that I’m well enough to know—”

  Flaherty interrupted, “Do not argue with His Grace.”

  “Oh, but I wasn’t arguing. Your Grace, please forgive me, but I do not want you to feel that I am overstaying my welcome.”

  The Duke of Wyndmere sighed. “My darling duchess reminds me when she is disagreeing with me that she is not arguing, simply has a point to make that requires my full attention.”

  O’Malley snorted, trying to cover his laughter, but the duke heard. “I would not be so quick to laugh, O’Malley. I know for a fact that your wife has adopted my wife’s way of thinking.” Turning to Flaherty, the duke added, “Strong women like to have their way, but still need coddling.”

  “Aye, Yer Grace.”

  The duke bade Temperance goodbye and left the room, O’Malley following in his wake.

  Flaherty saw his opportunity to fully explain why he had raised his voice to the lass, but then his cousin reappeared in the doorway. His frown fierce, O’Malley bit out, “Rooftop. Now!”

  With a brief glance at the woman staring up at him, Flaherty spun around and strode from the room. He would have that talk with the lass later. She would understand—and capitulate!

  Chapter Five

  Maddy watched the duchess with unabashed awe. The light from the window shone on the duchess, magically adding streaks of blue to her black hair. Mum had the same color hair, but she’d never seen blue in it. Unable to help herself, Maddy reached out to touch the duchess’s hair, but quickly drew her hand back. “You have blue in your hair.”

  The duchess nodded. “The sun must be coming in the window behind me.”

  Wonder filled Maddy. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve never seen it happen, because it’s always scooped up on my head, but other people have noticed and told me.”

  Maddy remembered Mum telling her about faeries with dark hair and green eyes. But did they have brown eyes, too? Was the duchess a faerie in disguise? “Did the faeries put it there?”

  When the duchess smiled at her, Maddy felt warm inside. The duchess had a pretty face and a soft voice, like Mum. Maddy liked her. She smiled, watching the duchess set her teacup on its saucer and place it on the table between them.

  “I often wondered if they had,” the duchess replied. “It is a question I have asked myself more than once over the years.”

  Maddy frowned. “Did yourself answer?”

  “I haven’t,” the duchess replied. “Although I have been waiting for another chance to sneak down to the rose garden and wait for dawn to break. And do you know why?”

  Hearing the excitement in the duchess’s voice, Maddy bounced in her seat. “Why?”

  “The tween times—when the clock strikes on the half-hours—are when the fae can be seen,” the duchess confided. “At dawn, they come to our gardens to wash their faces in the dew that settles on the flowers overnight.”

  Maddy gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. The beautiful duchess who had been so nice to her and her mum must be part faerie!

  “Do you know what they do then?”

  Maddy shook her head, blowing at a curl that flopped into her eyes. “What?”

  “They lift their faces to catch the first hint of the morning breeze, spread their arms, unfurl their wings, and dance upon the air.”

  Maddy slowly flipped onto her tummy, scooted to the edge of the chair, and slid off the chair. She rushed over to stand beside the duchess. “Mum says there’s magic in the air…” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned. Maybe the duchess didn’t have a mum anymore. Maddy’s mum didn’t. She knew Mum disliked it when people asked her questions. But if Maddy didn’t ask, how could she find out what she wanted to know? “Mum says we gotta believe to see it.”

  “Your mum is a very wise woman, Maddy.”

  Maddy nodded. “Can I watch for faeries with you?”

  *

  Persephone was charmed by the little girl’s sunny nature and inquisitiveness. “I do not see any reason why you cannot go, but we shall have to ask permission from your mum.” Watching Maddy’s face, she was not surprised when the child’s expression changed yet again. She had noticed the same swift shift from happiness to tears in her own children.

  “She’ll say yes.”

  “If she does, I hope you can be quiet as a mouse.”

  “I can!” Maddy covered her mouth with her hands, then slowly removed them, whispering, “I can.”

  “Wonderful. We shall need to be, when we sneak past the guards.” Persephone sighed deeply, knowing how it vexed the men—especially Patrick—but what choice did she have? They’d sworn an oath to her husband that they would protect her and the children, and the rest of Jared’s family. It was easier for the guard to protect them if they remained indoors.

  Maddy seemed to be waiting for her to say more. The duchess decided to explain about her fierce protectors. “The guards have our best interests at heart, and their job protecting us has not been easy. I admire their diligence and efficiency in patrolling our home, the extensive grounds, and the surrounding land between our home and the village. But I do not like being told what to do.”