Page 8 of The Duke’s Man-At-Arms (The Duke’s Guard #11)

M ichaela was trying to rest, but every time she closed her eyes, O’Malley’s face filled her mind. His jaw set, anger changing the hue of his emerald eyes to a dark forest green as they burned with vengeance. Though she had not known him long, she had observed his tamping down his temper and redirecting his anger where the young women they had rescued were concerned. As he was a member of the Duke of Wyndmere’s private guard, she knew he would be doing what the men did best—ferreting out information from the very streets she worked tirelessly to save young women from. Then and only then would he act. If she remembered correctly from overhearing a conversation between Cameron and James Garahan, the men never sought justice alone. The duke would require witnesses should there ever be a question as to a situation involving the duke’s guard.

But somehow, she was gutted knowing that O’Malley was searching the streets of London for information that would lead him to the one man she had hoped to never see again. The one man she loathed with ever fiber of her being, the lord who had taken more than her virtue against her will—he had dashed her hopes and destroyed her dreams. She shuddered just imagining how O’Malley would react if he ever knew the truth of what happened to her that long-ago night in the garden. Would he treat her differently? Would it color his respect for her healing abilities? Dear Lord, would he believe what Lord Haversham had spouted after he’d had his way and let her go?

O’Malley could never learn the truth. To lose his friendship after finally admitting that they shared a connection through their conviction that it was their duty to rescue and heal others… He’d all but said he would marry her.

She paused and shook her head. Nay, what he said was that they would marry, and she would agree when he was ready to ask her.

She would not tell him, and she prayed he would never find out.

If she had not been hit on the back of the head, she would have stood a chance against her attacker face to face. When Alasdair had worn her down and talked his way into acting as her guard, she did the same, repeatedly asking him to teach her how to fend off an attack. At first the former dragoon had refused, but once he saw the chances she took, and how often danger lurked just outside her door, he showed her that a well-placed punch—or knee—to the groin could double a man over. That and to keep a sharpened knife hidden on her person at all times.

She’d had to employ that tactic only once. It had surprised her attacker and won the loyalty of one of the young women she had given aid, shelter, and the start of a new life to with employment in a household Michaela trusted. She had connections in and around London, far-reaching contacts who felt as she did about what was happening to young women being lured to the city with the promise of employment.

Someone had to protect these women, and she had volunteered for the task. Her dream of becoming a physician would never come to fruition, nor would her father’s dream that she would one day marry well and give him grandchildren.

Reacting to what he conceived to be a blow to his pride, and the waste of his precious time, the lecherous lord had used his strength to overpower her, ensuring that she would suffer as he had.

Did the blackguard care that she would be shunned, and her father’s very livelihood would be at risk, because of the lord’s need to, as he told her, put her in her place? He would curse her for trying to reach higher than her social station.

There were times at night when she would lie awake and ask God if this had been his intention all along, knowing the idea of a studying to become a physician in a male-dominated environment would be unattainable for her. She’d instead put her skills, learned at her father’s side, to good use in giving aid and encouragement to those who despaired of ever regaining their self-respect, honor, and pride. A part of that had been confiding in a select few who seemed to need to hear her story in order to begin to heal. Aimee Garahan had been one of those few. And Aimee, along with Miranda, had helped her after she had been abducted.

Have I come full circle, Lord? she silently asked. Am I supposed to publicly accuse the man responsible for ruining me in order to finally begin to heal myself? Her belly ached at the very idea. No matter the consequences of speaking up at this point in time, she wondered yet again—would it have been better to tell her father what his choice of husband for her had done?

She hadn’t realized she was crying until a pristine white handkerchief appeared in front of her face. Blindly, she reached for it, mopping her tears before blowing her nose.

“Michaela, after all you have helped me through, you know that you can trust me not to tell a soul what happened to you.”

She lifted her head. The compassion in Aimee’s eyes wrapped around her like a hug. Fear that the ton would discover her shame and turn their backs on her father curdled in her stomach. “If I could tell anyone, Aimee, it would be you.”

Aimee sat in the chair opposite from her. “You have my word that I will never breathe a word of what you confide in me. But given what the men in the duke’s guard have witnessed, and the number of women they have rescued in the last two years, I believe they have a very good idea of what happened. Darby guessed what happened to me.”

Michaela shook her head. “I never divulged what you shared with me.”

“I know you didn’t. He and his brothers and cousins have witnessed the cruelty of those with twisted minds and black hearts…and the aftereffects of that cruelty.”

“Even Darby and Emmett would shun me and stop lending their aid—”

“Listen to yourself,” Aimee chided her. “Do you really believe that, or are you pushing what you feel you deserve onto the thoughts and words of others?”

Michaela’s heart clenched painfully, but she knew it was emotion causing the pain. “Why would you…” She bit back the rest of what she had been about to say. “I believe that was the advice I gave to you a few weeks ago.”

Aimee nodded. “At the time I did not quite believe it, but with the steadfast love and support of my husband, I have made great strides in actually accepting your words and holding them to my heart.”

When Aimee reached for her hand, Michaela felt a soothing comfort in the other woman’s firm grip. “Don’t push Emmett away. It would have been the biggest mistake of my life if I succeeded in pushing Darby away.”

Michaela sighed. “And now it is your turn to help him, as he heals from injuries he sustained in his bid to protect and defend you.”

Aimee looked away, then back before whispering, “I blamed myself.”

“You were not responsible,” Michaela insisted. “The men who tried to beat him to a pulp when they jumped him in that alley are. They are currently being held at Newgate Prison.”

Tears welled in Aimee’s eyes. “But his sight…”

It was Michaela’s turn to soothe. “You know he vowed to give his life protecting the duke and his family.”

Aimee nodded. “And the duke’s extended family.”

“Which now includes the wives, stepchildren, and babes of the men in the duke’s private guard who have married.”

Miranda walked over to join them. “I hate to interrupt, but I am in desperate need of a strong cup of tea.”

“And something sweet to go with it?” Michaela asked.

Miranda smiled. “I just put Emma down for a short nap. Earlier, I baked scones along with the gingerbread Gordon cannot seem to do without on a daily basis.”

Aimee smiled and rose to her feet. “Let me help you. Michaela was just about to close her eyes for a few minutes. Weren’t you?”

Michaela could not believe Aimee had repeated the very same words Michaela had said to the other women rescued from the boarding house. In hearing her words parroted back to her, Michaela realized she truly had come full circle. “Just for a moment,” she said.

“That’s all you need,” Miranda replied.

A short while later, Michaela opened her eyes. “Forgive me, do you need help with the tea?”

Miranda and Aimee shared a look before Aimee asked, “How do you feel?”

“Like someone bashed me on the back of the head, abraded my wrists until they were raw, and then kicked me in the ribs.”

Miranda’s look of concern had Michaela feeling as if she had struck the young woman with her harsh reply, when she had only been asking out of concern. “Mayhap I should see if the broth I was preparing for you is ready,” Miranda said. “You can have tea another time.”

“Forgive me,” Michaela replied. “I have not been myself since I woke in that abysmal building. I am rather terrified of rats.”

“You were left in a room with rats ?” Aimee sounded horrified.

“I heard the scratching and scurrying, but did not actually see any vermin. I was told there was a hole at the bottom of one wall, where the rats could come and go as they pleased.”

“There is a special place in hell for whoever said that to you,” Miranda said. “The blackguard knowingly added to your fear.”

Michaela admitted, “I really am quite terrified of the creatures.”

“Rats,” Aimee whispered. “That would mean that you were near the docks!”

“I must have been, but I confess I was in a state of shock when O’Malley rescued me, and did not notice much of my surroundings. Thank you again for allowing me to stay with your family, Miranda. I am grateful.”

“Our home is always open to you,” Miranda replied. “You have succeeded in convincing those you aid of their worth. Whereas others have tried their hardest to make the women feel it is somehow their fault that they ended up in circumstances beyond their control.”

“They desperately need a champion,” Aimee said. “You are their savior… You have been mine.”

“I know I said it before, but however I can help, please let me know,” Miranda said as she rose and walked to the kitchen. “I hope you do not mind, but Aimee and I did not want to rouse you and couldn’t wait. We had a cup of tea while you were resting, but we saved the sweets for when you woke up. We can have them now with another pot of tea.”

“You did not have to wait,” Michaela insisted.

Miranda smiled as she stared at Aimee. “Someone else, aside from my darling husband, has been particularly fond of eating my gingerbread as of late and indulged in a slice or two. I waited to have a bite with you.”

Michaela turned to study Aimee and noticed a subtle glow about her, as if she held a wonderful secret to her heart. She slowly smiled. “Have you told Darby your news yet?”

Aimee shook her head. “I have only just realized it today…after Miranda asked me how I was feeling.”

“I could tell from the way you turned a bit green when I was preparing the broth for Michaela. The scent of beef boiling always triggered an immediate response from me while I was carrying Michael and Emma.”

“It nauseated you,” Michaela stated. One noticeable sign of pregnancy was an enhanced sense of smell and a sensitivity to scents.

Miranda agreed, and added, “Aside from that, I had a tendency to become lightheaded and swoon.”

“Are you feeling light of head too, Aimee?” Michaela asked.

“A bit, but everything is so new to me. The second chance at life with a man who treats me as if I am to be treasured is so unexpected that I thought it was my constant worry that I would wake up and find myself back at the Underwood boarding house.”

Michaela rose to her feet and embraced Aimee. “Congratulations, Aimee. I am so happy for you and Darby.” The movement strained her ribs and had her drawing in a sharp breath.

“Sit down,” Miranda ordered her. “You won’t do anyone any good if you injure your ribs further before they have even had a chance to heal.”

Michaela sank back onto her chair. “I believe I have advised more than one of my patients to do the same with similar injuries,” she said. “I’m not used to having to follow advice.”

Aimee and Miranda shared a look and smiled. “We know,” Aimee said. “But if you do follow the advice that you have doled out to others, you will find that you will heal.”

“Without running the risk of doing more damage to yourself,” Miranda said, “which would require a much longer healing time.”

Michaela sighed. “I take it you are speaking from experience with your husband?”

Miranda nodded. “I have come to the conclusion that most men are a trial to a woman’s patience, believe themselves to be impervious to injury, and are shocked to the core when they feel pain.”

Michaela smiled. “I have not had the same experience as you. You are most fortunate.”

“I did not think so when I received the news of my first husband’s death. I was in a daze until the day I chanced to hear that Gordon had been badly injured in the same sea battle. I went to the hospital needing to find him. He and my first husband were as close as brothers, and I needed to see for myself that he would recover. I needed that connection, for myself and for my son… Michael had just turned two.”

The door opened and Miranda’s face transformed from despair to joy. “Here’s my son now. Have you come for tea and cake, or to issue orders from the captain?”

Michael smiled. “Father said that I needed to spend half an hour keeping you ladies company.”

Miranda frowned. “What is that man up to?”

Michael shrugged. “I am following orders, learning all I can from Father before I follow in his footsteps, and that of Papa’s, in the Royal Navy.”

“Two of the bravest men I have had the honor of knowing,” Miranda remarked. “Your papa would be so proud of the young man you have become. Prouder, because he would know that it is because of Gordon’s influence when he stepped into the role of protector to us all those years ago, keeping his promise to your papa.”

Michael wrapped his arm around his mother. “I know Papa is smiling down on us, even though it took you and the captain far too long to realize the three of us were meant to be a family.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Any chance of the two of you giving me another sibling? I wouldn’t mind a little brother, now that I have a little sister.”

Miranda’s mouth opened and closed, but only a garbled sound escaped. When she managed to regain her voice, she chastised him, “That is not a subject for polite company.”

He slowly smiled and said, “If I don’t ask with witnesses, you may not remember that I asked.”

Aimee’s laugh was infectious and had Michaela bracing a hand to her ribs as she joined in the merriment. How wonderful it would be to experience the joy of welcoming a new babe into one’s family.

She immediately pushed the thought away. It was not a part of the Lord’s plan for her.

Pushing thoughts of an angel-faced babe with blond hair and green eyes from her mind, she watched the others bantering back and forth, wishing that her life had been different. But if it had been, would she still have met the duke’s man-at-arms?

She shook her head. Nay, she would not have had the pleasure of meeting and working alongside Emmett O’Malley. For however long he would be in her life.