“See?” Maddy exclaimed. “It worked!”

  When Constance and Merry started stacking teacups, saucers, plates, and utensils on the tray, Temperance said, “I do have a question for you, Your Grace.”

  “What would you like to know?” Persephone asked. Temperance glanced at her daughter and back. The duchess must have sensed that she did not want her daughter to hear the question. “Miss Maddy, would you please help Constance put away the tea things?”

  “Yes, Your Grace!” The little one skipped out of the room.

  “Now then, ask me,” Persephone told Temperance.

  “I have a few pence left that I will gladly give to you for taking us in, but it’s not enough. I need to fully repay you. I cannot in good conscience continue to stay without repaying you somehow.”

  Persephone sighed deeply. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I can help in the kitchen, or with any of the housemaid’s tasks. I would be honored to help Gwendolyn in the nursery, too.”

  The duchess was silent for a few moments before she nodded. “I think we can arrange something. Mayhap an hour or so in the nursery tomorrow afternoon. After you rest from our morning—as your daughter put it—’scursion.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace!”

  “However, if I feel it is too taxing, you will rest for another full day before you attempt to help again. Is that clear?”

  “Very. Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “We could still ask Just Flaherty to carry you tomorrow morning.”

  Temperance felt the flush creep up her throat to her face. “I am quite certain he has other duties.”

  The duchess held her gaze and slowly smiled. “We can make an exception tomorrow morning.”

  “I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

  Persephone’s light laughter hinted at something she knew that Temperance did not. “Oh, it won’t bother him in the slightest.”

  Temperance was not so sure about that, recalling how angry he had been when she spoke of leaving. But that was tomorrow’s worry—today’s was her promise to rest.

  The duchess pointed at the cot. “Weren’t you going to rest?”

  “Er…yes, Your Grace.”

  “I’ll help you to the cot, if you need it.”

  “I can manage,” Temperance murmured.

  “I realize that,” the duchess remarked. “Please do humor me.”

  Temperance noticed the other woman’s eyes looked tired. “Thank you, but who is going to help you?”

  “That would be me.”

  The duchess looked over her shoulder. “Jared, what are you doing here?”

  “Coming to remind you it is past time for your midafternoon rest, my darling duchess.”

  Temperance moved to the cot and sat.

  The duchess sighed. “Very well—it seems we both need to rest, Temperance. If you need anything, the footman will be stationed in the hall.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. Enjoy your rest.”

  The duke slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “I shall see to it that she does.”

  On that cryptic remark, he swept the duchess from the room. The echoing laughter reminded Temperance of all that she had lost. When the tears threatened yet again, she wondered if mayhap she should not have bottled them up for so long, allowing herself brief moments in the dark of night to weep. Had she given in to them, it may have prevented the flood of them now. Too late for what-ifs…

  Lying down, she felt a wave of exhaustion sweep up from her toes. Her heart fluttered at the thought of Flaherty carrying her all the way to the rose garden, and she could not get the image of out of her mind. Closing her eyes, she imagined she heard her daughter calling to him—Just Flaherty, wait for me!

  Chapter Eight

  Flaherty refilled his powder flask and frowned at Eamon O’Malley. “Are ye certain that’s what she heard?”

  “Me wife wouldn’t be prevaricating,” his cousin insisted. “Not to me.”

  Flaherty checked his pockets for wadding and the small leather bag he used to carry the rifle’s .40-caliber lead balls. “I thought Her Grace gave up on that idea before the twins were born.”

  Eamon spat on the whetting stone in his hand and rubbed it in. “I’m guessing she hasn’t.” He slipped the knife from his boot and drew it over the stone in swift, sure motions, turning the blade over as he sharpened it. “Abigail is just the right age to be entranced by the fanciful idea of tiny, winged creatures.” He ran his thumb over the edge of the blade, nodding when a thin bead of blood welled up. “Sharp enough.”

  Flaherty held out his hand to O’Malley, who tossed him the whetting stone. “Water horses and faery forts, no doubt.”

  Eamon grinned. “Helen’s mentioned the picture books in the nursery more than once. At least two books have colorful images of the fae, and most any other mythical creature ye can think of.”

  The urge to smile surprised Flaherty. He hadn’t been given to flights of fancy since he was a lad, and then only when Ma rocked him on the nights he could not find his sleep. She’d alternate between singing lullabies and telling stories of magic and heroes of old. “Well now, I’m thinking a certain little ray of sunshine may have had something to do with it.”

  O’Malley chuckled. “Miss Maddy.”

  “Aye,” Flaherty agreed. “She’s got a way about her, convincing ye to do the opposite of what ye planned.”

  “I’m more than familiar with the tactic,” his cousin admitted. “Though I would not have thought too many females knew of it, as it’s a warrior’s tactic.” O’Malley rubbed his chin. “We’d best be on our guard if Her Grace starts getting ideas again.”

  Flaherty watched his cousin check his pistol’s ammunition, reminding him again of the time Wyndmere Hall was under attack. He tucked the memory away, calling up another one from that same year—when the duchess, the duke’s sister, and two of her friends had a twilight tea party on the roof. He shook his head, mumbling, “Gargoyles and faeries.”

  Garahan snorted as he entered the outbuilding where they stored their munitions. “So ye’ve heard?”

  O’Malley nodded and Flaherty grunted.

  Garahan held out his hand to Flaherty. “I’ll be needing the Kentucky long rifle, as I’ll be riding the perimeter.”

  When Flaherty handed it over, Garahan handed him the pistol from his waistband. “Ye might need to put it off for an hour.”

  “We’ll need Patrick’s input on the situation,” Garahan warned. “Ye know he doesn’t like when we switch shifts without letting him know ahead of time.”

  “Circumstances do not always allow for careful planning. He will have to bend his stiff neck and understand,” Flaherty grumbled.

  The door opened and Patrick O’Malley walked in and read the emotion in the room. “I just spoke to His Grace. We’ll be putting off our first shifts to guard Her Grace and her entourage.”

  Eamon scrubbed a hand over his face. “How many women this time?”

  “Seven,” the head of the duke’s guard replied. “Then there are the children.”

  Flaherty shook his head. “Too many women to suit me. Little ones should still be abed.”

  Garahan was shaking his head when he asked O’Malley “Have ye spoken to Humphries yet?”

  “Aye,” O’Malley replied. “He’s assemblin’ the footmen we’ve trained to take over our shifts.”

  “Did Her Grace think we wouldn’t find out about her plans,” Flaherty asked, “or do ye think she is going to try to sneak past us?”

  “I’m thinking the second,” Eamon replied.

  Garahan mumbled beneath his breath, “Won’t be the first time.”

  O’Malley stared at his cousins. He nodded to Garahan, who had the rifle over his shoulder. “Ye’ll take the position on the roof. The paths to the garden are visible. We don’t want any surprise interruptions.”

  “Anything else I need to know?”

  O’Malley shook his head. “I already know the answer, but I’m askin’ just the same. Any chance yer wife would sleep in?”

  Garahan snorted. “Emily would not want to miss the chance to sneak past us.”

  “’Tis me feeling about Gwendolyn as well. She’ll have Deidre with her.” He met Eamon’s gaze next. “What about Helen?”

  “Our wives have much in common,” Eamon reminded him. “Spines of steel and stubborn wills to match.”

  O’Malley tossed up his hands. “How in the bloody hell did the lot of us manage to find such hardheaded wives?”

  “’Tis a weakness,” Flaherty said with a grin. “Our das married women just like them.”

  “Faith, ye aren’t wrong,” O’Malley admitted. “Eamon, ye’ll be on horseback, on the other side of the back wall of the garden. There are too many paths that lead into the thick woods from that point. Flaherty, ye’re with me.”

  Flaherty nodded. “Waiting outside the rear doors to the library.”

  “Aye. With three women expecting, we need to be prepared for one of them to swoon.”

  “Where will the duke be?” Garahan asked.

  “With O’Malley and Flaherty,” the duke announced, stepping into the building. “I will not take a chance that Persephone will stumble, fall, and hit her head.”

  Flaherty observed Garahan glancing at Eamon O’Malley, who slowly nodded. He wondered if all pregnant women were prone to swoon like the duchess had been while carrying the twins.

  Garahan cleared his throat and said, “We could move into our positions after we’ve safely escorted the women to the garden.”

  “Her Grace will be carrying Richard or Abigail,” Eamon added. “Francis will be involved, too. She’ll be carrying the other twin.”

  O’Malley muttered, “Gwendolyn will be carrying Deidre.” He turned to stare at Flaherty “That leaves one other little one to be carried.”

  “Maddy’s sure-footed,” Flaherty said. “She’ll be walking.”

  The duke leveled his gaze on each man in turn. “As much as I prefer to have you patrolling and in positions around the garden to start, I think Garahan’s suggestion has merit.”

  “We can have eyes on the women as they sneak out of the nursery,” Flaherty said. “And alert the others.”

  “Excellent,” the duke murmured. “Humphries will have the footmen assembled and in positions within the hour. I shall inform him that plans have changed slightly and the footmen are to assume your positions until you relieve them.” With a nod to the men forming in a semicircle around him, the duke exhaled. “Thank you, men. It isn’t an easy job protecting women who do not believe they need to be.”

  Flaherty grinned. “I think I’ll see if Constance needs me help loading the basket she’ll be filling with scones and faery cakes.” And just like that, the tension broke.

  The duke shook his head. “It would be best if she doesn’t realize we know of their plans.”

  Flaherty did not hold the same opinion—but once the duke’s mind was made up, he rarely changed it.

  An hour later, everyone was in place, ready, and waiting.

  *

  “Mum? Are you awake?”

  Temperance slowly opened her eyes. “Maddy? Do you feel all right?”

  “It’s time!”

  Temperance was slow to wake up, but one look at her daughter’s glowing smile and eagerness, and she remembered. “The faeries?”

  Maddy bounced on her feet, grabbed hold of her mother’s hand, and tugged. “We have to hurry!”

  Temperance noticed the wrinkled gown her daughter was wearing had fabric bunched up in spots. “Did you dress yourself?”

  “Halfway.”

  Temperance wondered who had helped her daughter. “Was Merry here already?”

  Maddy shook her head.

  “Constance?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Who helped you?”

  Maddy gave an exaggerated sigh. “Just Flaherty.”

  “Why would he help you?”

  “’Cause I couldn’t reach my buttons.”

  Worry filled Temperance. Flaherty was an unmarried man, and he’d helped her daughter dress herself? “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “I tried, Mum.”

  Temperance swung her legs to the side of the bed and slowly stood. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “I can help you dress first,” Maddy told her.

  “I’d have to take my nightrail off first.”

  Maddy giggled. “No you don’t.”

  “Silly thing. Of course I do. Chemise, then gown. Remember?”

  Maddy shook her head, walked over to the side of the cot, and lifted the hem of her gown, showing her mother her nightclothes underneath. “See? My gown’s on top!”

  And Temperance did see. She bent down to her daughter’s level and touched the tip of her finger to the end of Maddy’s nose. She did not have to worry about her daughter being alone with Flaherty. He was an honorable man, and had probably been aghast at being asked to help Maddy dress. “Who’s idea was that?”

  “Just Flaherty’s.”

  “I see. Did he ask why you needed to get dressed so early?” Temperance was concerned that the guard would follow them, and she was not certain if the duchess had spoken to him or not. Hadn’t Persephone mentioned sneaking past her husband’s guard?

  Maddy nodded.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That it was a secret. Was that right, Mum?”

  Temperance opened her arms, and Maddy threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Yes. Mayhap I should put my gown over my nightrail, too.”

  Her daughter was vibrating with excitement. “Hurry, Mum!”

  It was a snug fit, but Temperance managed to pull her gown over her nightclothes. “Do I have time to put my hair up?”

  “Can you walk at the same time?”

  Temperance snorted, then covered her mouth with her hands, while Maddy giggled.

  “Try, Mum. We have to go!”

  Rather than risk Maddy raising her voice again, Temperance decided to tidy her braid instead. Untying the ribbon, she unwound the bottom half of her braid, smoothed it out, re-braided it, and tossed it over her shoulder. She held out her hand to her daughter, and they tiptoed to the door, carefully looked from one end of the deserted hallway to the other, and rushed toward the kitchen.

  Constance was waiting for them. From the fit of her gown, Temperance suspected that she, too, had pulled her clothes on over her night things. Relaxing, Temperance offered to carry the basket.

  “Between the offering for the faeries and our early morning tea, it’s too heavy for you to carry.” When Temperance sighed, Constance suggested, “Why don’t you take hold of one of the handles on the large basket, and I’ll hold the other? Between us, it will lighten the load.”

  Temperance used her free hand to help Maddy open the door to the main part of the house. As soon as she could, Maddy squeezed through and skipped ahead of them down the long hallway. “Constance, is it odd that no one seems to be about but us?” Temperance asked.

  The cook smiled. “We do not always see the duke’s guard, but they are always watching over us.”

  “Like guardian angels?”

  Constance smiled. “Warrior guardian angels.”

  Temperance frowned. Was she being untrue to her husband’s memory by wanting someone to help protect her daughter? Lately, she’d realized that being strong and willing to work through exhaustion was not enough to ensure that Maddy—and herself—would be safe from those who would mistreat them…or worse.

  “Whatever soured your mood, don’t let that little moppet see you like this.” The cook waited a beat before adding, “We can talk about it later over a nice cup of my special tea.”

  “Special?”

  “I keep a medicinal supply of whiskey on hand. A splash or two in a cup of tea is quite soothing.”

  “When we had it, I would add a splash of cream.”

  “And when you didn’t?”

  “It was a luxury sometimes to have the tea at all.”

  “Mum, Miss Constance!” Maddy was standing in the doorway to the library, motioning for them to hurry.

  “Do you think any of the duke’s guard heard Maddy?” Temperance asked.

  “Not to worry. The men are always considerate of babes and children.”

  Temperance added that bit of information to the things she admired about Flaherty. “I did get to see that firsthand when he helped Maddy and me.”

  They had reached the door and discovered they were the last to arrive. The duchess was carrying Abigail, but Merry was holding out her arms to take the little girl. Francis, the duchess’s lady’s maid, had Richard on her hip. Patrick’s wife carried their precious babe, Deidre, while Helen and Emily—Eamon and Aiden’s wives—carried quilts.

  “Merry, I can carry Abigail,” the duchess said.

  “Of course you can, Your Grace, but I would feel better—and I am quite sure His Grace would too—if I carried her outside. You are supposed to be resting and not lifting anything heavier than your smile.”

  “That is such a lovely thing to say.” Temperance wished someone had said that to her while she was expecting Maddy. But her husband had worked long hours underground and was rarely home in the middle of the day when she was keeping house.

  The duchess sighed. “My darling duke has hidden depths that he draws upon, saying such sweet things to me.”

  “You are very lucky, Your Grace,” Temperance said.

  The duchess’s delighted laughter echoed in the darkened library. “Jared has told me that, too…more than once.” Gathering the women close around her, she said, “Now then, we must be quiet as mice. Faeries can be quite shy, and we do not want to startle them.”

  “They like honey cake,” Maddy whispered.

  “And dandelion wine,” Constance added.

  “Sounds like a feast,” Merry said with a smile.

  “Follow me,” the duchess said.

  The group fell in line, single file, behind the duchess, with Temperance and Constance holding up the rear. Everyone was careful not to bump into any of the chairs or tables and have one of the duke’s guard demanding to know why they were up and where they were headed.