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F laherty had no idea what had upset the viscount, but had a sneaking feeling that it had to do with Mary Kate.

Had he heard what happened? Did everyone but himself know of the debacle?

Had no one else ever spouted nonsense, or things they did not mean, when in the grips of wound fever?

Surprised that the viscount had not turned toward the house, but the stables instead, Flaherty followed behind him.

Best not to speak and interrupt whatever his lordship was thinking.

Chattsworth opened the side door to the stables and entered, nodded to his stable master, and continued over to where the man’s pride and joy—Maximus, a huge black Thoroughbred stallion—watched them approach from his stall.

Flaherty had a healthy respect for the beautiful animal, who was huge, strong, and had a temper to match the viscount’s.

He wondered if he would end up spending time currying the animal when Chattsworth put a hand in his pocket and retrieved an apple.

“Sorry I was delayed, Maximus. We’ll be leaving for our ride after Flaherty and I come to an understanding. ”

Having worked closely with the viscount when stationed at Chattsworth Manor, Flaherty knew to wait until the man was ready to speak.

As one who spoke to his horse about all manner of things, Flaherty didn’t mind waiting.

Chattsworth’s temper rivaled his, so it would be wise to be patient.

It was obvious the viscount wanted to speak with him about Mary Kate. Would the man believe him?

“I hope you are here to apologize to Miss Donovan.”

“I am.”

“And do you believe that is all that you need to do? Apologize for breaking that young woman’s heart? A woman who has been my wife’s right hand for nearly two years?”

“Ye have to believe me, yer lordship, that I don’t recall saying anything at all to her.”

Chattsworth raised one dark brow—the same habit His Grace, the viscount’s distant cousin, had when he was irritated. “And you expect me to believe you?”

“I don’t lie.”

The viscount growled, but did not contradict Flaherty. All of the men in the duke’s guard were trustworthy. “Am I to believe that it had to do with wound fever?”

“Aye, yer lordship. One lead ball in the arm is dangerous, as ye well know—but two in the back…” Flaherty hoped the man remembered how he and O’Malley had helped the viscount off the dueling field after the viscount had leapt onto it to prevent murder.

The viscount had been watching and saw Chellenham turn around at the count of fifteen— not twenty.

He prevented the dastard from shooting Lord Coddington in the back.

Lady Aurelia, his wife’s sister-of-the-heart, would have been inconsolable if anything had happened to her uncle.

“You are a man of honor, Flaherty, and I know you would not intentionally hurt a woman’s feelings—”

Flaherty interrupted, “Especially the woman I’ve been courting.”

The viscount frowned. “You’ve been courting her for months. Your cousins married within weeks of rescuing the women who captured their hearts. Why have you waited?”

Flaherty did not want to sound like a lovesick eedjit , but wasn’t that what held him back? Would the viscount think him weak of heart for carrying a jealous grudge against his own cousin?

“The longer you wait, the harder it will be to confide,” Chattsworth said. “Especially if you’ve been holding it in for months.”

“Mary Kate’s always saying how Garahan was the one who saved her—when all he did was help her up off the footpath outside Lady Kittrick’s town house.”

The viscount’s surprise was evident, but only lasted for a heartbeat, then he returned to a neutral expression.

“I see. If I remember correctly, Calliope mentioned how frightening it was when the duke’s carriage slid on ice and ended on its side over that ditch.

You were the one to pull her and Mary Kate to safety. ”

Flaherty met the intensity of Chattsworth’s gaze. “Aye.”

Maximus finished the apple and nudged the viscount’s shoulder, gaining a chuckle out of him. “Fresh out of apples. How about a carrot?” The horse’s ears twitched, and Chattsworth snorted. “That means yes.”

“Yer horse loves carrots almost as much as apples.” Flaherty’s throat felt tight at the thought of repeating the harsh words he did not remember uttering, but he shoved past the feeling.

“In truth, I may be jealous of Garahan being the first to rescue the lass, but mine was more urgent—her ladyship and Mary Kate could have been injured if we hadn’t had the coachman holding the team while Michael held me legs, and I pulled the ladies free. ”

The viscount fed the carrot to Maximus. When the animal finished off the treat, Chattsworth turned back to Flaherty. “If I could hazard a guess, I would think that the first rescue may be more prominent in Mary Kate’s mind because it was symbolic.”

“I’m not following yer line of thinking, yer lordship.”

“She was rudely ousted from her position within her mistress’s household, as if she were a stray animal with no feelings.

Her humiliation had to have been severe.

Garahan treated her as if she mattered. Like the rest of the men in His Grace’s guard, Garahan would never treat a woman as if she had no value.

Every one of you treat all women—no matter their station in life, or what has happened in their past—as if they are important. Worthy of your regard. Precious.”

“’Tis me hard head that has had trouble convincing meself that she isn’t pining for Garahan.”

“Has she acted in a way that would have you thinking that she does?”

For the first time, Flaherty actually thought about her actions—forgetting the whole “who rescued whom” first. “I’m thinking she smiles at him too much.”

“She has a sunny disposition, which, according to Calliope, blossomed after a few weeks working here at Chattsworth. Mary Kate is generous with her smiles, Flaherty. Even MacReady has mentioned it gives him a bit of a lift first thing in the morning when she greets him.”

“’Tis her eyes,” he confessed. “They bewitched me from the start.”

“Just her eyes?”

“Her fiery hair slips from its pins and just begs to be…” He closed his mouth before he sounded like a complete eedjit .

“Calliope was so excited when you first asked permission to court Mary Kate—not that you needed approval, though it was good of you to do so. My wife tells me that Mary Kate spoke of you constantly, until she returned from Lippincott Manor a few weeks ago.”

“How do I regain her trust, when I don’t remember losing it?”

The viscount bade his stallion goodbye and motioned for Flaherty to follow him out of the stables.

Walking toward the manor house, Chattsworth replied, “You might want to begin with that last question. Then remind her that you’d had wound fever for five days.

She was exhausted from caring for you—which you don’t remember, and how could you?

It may be that you did not bellow at her at all, but had a sharp tone, and again, why would you not?

The pain from having two lead balls extracted had to have been excruciating.

I know for a fact how one lead ball feels. ”

Flaherty lifted one shoulder and then the other, testing the healing wound. “Still pains me, but I hope ye’ll keep that to yerself, yer lordship. I’m needing to get back to me duties to the earl. I can deal with the discomfort—besides, I held me own against Sean going a few rounds an hour ago.”

Chattsworth chuckled. “Most men would simply take their horse out for a ride to test their endurance, not engage in a bare-knuckle bout.” He stared at Flaherty. “But you are not most men—not a one of you are.”

“Faith, I’m glad ye recognize that fact, yer lordship. ’Tis how we keep ourselves ready to defend all comers, in all circumstances—well, that and keeping our weaponry skills sharp.”

“I’ll have Calliope speak to Mary Kate and let her know you are here.

My wife will be able to cajole her into seeing you.

I’ll ask Mrs. Romney to prepare a tea tray and deliver it to the small sitting room near the library.

It’s one of Calliope’s favorite rooms, and I know she and Mary Kate spent time there while I was in London tending to His Grace’s affairs. ”

“Will there be scones?”

Chattsworth laughed. “Aye, with jam and clotted cream.”

Twenty minutes later, Flaherty and the viscount were in the sitting room deep into a discussion of Emmett O’Malley’s recent rescue and marriage to Michaela Colborne—the angel of the streets—then nearly dying.

To hear Darby Garahan tell it, Emmett had died.

Though Tremayne had been skeptical, even Michaela’s father, Dr. Colborne, was inclined to believe that a miracle had happened.

Calliope arrived alone. “Mary Kate is willing to speak to you, but not at the moment.”

Flaherty felt the blow to his heart. Had he lost her affection as well as her respect? “I see.”

The viscountess walked over to where the men stood and slipped her arm through her husband’s. “She has been lying down with a cool cloth on her eyes. Though she may not want me to tell you, you should know that her eyes are so red and puffy from crying, she can hardly open them.”

Flaherty felt as if he’d been horsewhipped. “That’s me fault, too. I’ve made her cry. If I’d been in me right mind, I never would have lashed out at her.” He sought Calliope’s gaze and rasped, “Ye believe me, don’t ye, yer ladyship?”

“After caring for William after he’d been shot—and you remember what shape he was in—you and Michael O’Malley were there at the time and helped him off the dueling field.”

“I do remember.”

“I cannot even remember half of what William muttered when the fever set in, though his did not last as long as yours.”

“The half that ye do remember, did he seem out of character?”

Calliope softly smiled. “Yes, and I’ll be certain to relay that to Mary Kate when I go and check on her in an hour. She was so exhausted that she was drifting off to sleep by the time I closed her door behind me.”

“Shouldn’t someone be sitting with her? What if she gets up and has trouble seeing, or faints from lack of food?”

“I’ve already made the arrangements, but will check on her myself shortly.”

“Thank ye, yer ladyship.” Flaherty turned to the viscount and thanked him. “I should be returning. There’s a new group of footmen who still need more training. Tomorrow I’ll be returning to me regular shift.”

“Would you be able to come back tomorrow around teatime?” Calliope asked. “I believe that will be enough time for Mary Kate to have rested and be ready to speak with you. I know that she’ll listen to what you have to say…provided you begin with the apology.”

“Aye, yer ladyship. I’ll be back.”

A flicker of hope in his heart buoyed him. Surely the lass would listen to what he had to say, and forgive him, provided that Lady Calliope spoke to Mary Kate about how the viscount had acted when he suffered from wound fever.

Riding back to Lippincott Manor, he felt as if a tiny portion of the guilt-laced sorrow weighing him down had lifted.

“Lord? ’Tis Flaherty again—Seamus Flaherty, just so ye aren’t thinking it’s one of me brothers. I could use yer help convincing the lass.”