Page 12 of The Duke’s Sharpshooter (The Duke’s Guard #14)

“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.

At the rear door leading onto the terrace, the duchess put a finger to her lips, opened the door, stepped outside, and gasped.

Temperance heard Francis ask what was wrong before she heard the rumble of a deep voice. She wondered which one of the duke’s guard was on the patio, and if he would demand that they forgo their dawn plans.

Constance sighed. “It appears that we shall have escorts. I do hope they will keep their voices down.”

“Escorts?” Temperance asked.

“I should have thought of that when the duchess mentioned her plans. The duke is especially protective of her now that she is expecting again.”

“He sounds like a devoted husband,” Temperance murmured.

“His Grace is the best of men.”

“I hear more voices,” Temperance remarked.

“Who else do you think is out there?” Before Constance could reply, Temperance heard the Irish lilt and suspected it would be one of the married men in the duke’s guard—mayhap all three of the married men.

Two of the wives were pregnant, and Patrick’s wife was carrying their six-month-old daughter.

“It appears all four of the duke’s men are waiting for us,” Constance said.

“Well now, Miss Maddy,” Flaherty said, walking over, “I see ye woke yer ma. Did ye help her dress?”

Temperance could feel her face flushing at the highly personal question, and hoped it was still too dark for Flaherty to notice. “Maddy is a very good helper.”

“So I’ve heard. Do ye want me to carry ye, Maddy? Ye don’t want yer hem to get damp.”

For a heartbeat, Temperance wished she were a little girl, and Flaherty was offering to carry her.

Instead she urged her daughter to let him carry her.

The guard was so broad and tall that for a moment she worried Maddy would wiggle too much and topple out of his arms. But as soon as he settled her in the crook of his arm, Maddy hugged Flaherty’s neck. She would be safe.

When he offered his free arm to her, Temperance hesitated. Long-dead emotions twisted around inside of her as the musical lilt of his words wrapped around her. “May I escort ye, lass?”

Temperance did not want to be the only one receiving such special treatment, and was about to refuse when she noticed those walking in front of them.

The duke carried Abigail on one arm and had the duchess tucked against his other side.

O’Malley carried little Deidre and had his wife’s arm looped through his.

Eamon escorted Helen and Merry; Garahan had Emily and Constance.

Looking around her, Temperance asked, “What about the basket?”

“I ran ahead with the basket and quilts,” Flaherty replied. “His Grace did not want any of ye to be lifting or carrying. ’Tis still dark enough to trip or lose yer footing.”

“Thank you, Flaherty.”

“Mum!” Maddy sounded exasperated. “It’s Just Flaherty.”

The rumbling chuckle warmed Temperance’s heart, but not as much as the way her daughter clung to the big man’s neck.

In that moment she was hit by all that Maddy had missed out in life arriving after her father’s untimely death.

The only memories she had were the ones Temperance had shared with her to keep his memory alive in their minds and in their hearts.

As the group quietly followed the path, Flaherty must have sensed something was amiss. He bent close to Temperance’s ear. “Are ye worried Maddy won’t see any of the fae ?”

Temperance did not want to tell him what troubled her, so she shook her head.

“Ah, ’tis yerself who’s worried.” The warmth of his breath on the shell of her ear and the deep, rumbling sound of his voice were sharp reminders of all she had lost and what she would never have again.

“We are a big group,” he continued, unaware of her plight.

“If they’re feeling kindly toward the wee ones, they may show themselves. ”

“Do you believe that?”

“Aye. Did yer ma not teach ye to respect the Gentry—the Little People?”

“She read me stories of mythic heroes—Odysseus and Jason.”

“Well then, ye must have heard of Cú Chulainn.”

“No.”

“Fionn mac Cumhaill”

Temperance giggled. “No.”

“Lass, we’ll need to expand yer education to include Irish legends and heroes.”

“Me too?” Maddy asked.

“Aye, wee cailín .”

Maddy put her hands on either side of Flaherty’s face. “It’s Maddy.”

“Aye, but ye’re also a wee cailín , a little girl.”

She let go of his face and leaned against his cheek. “And you’re Just Flaherty.”

“That I am, ye wee charmer.”

“Mum, I’m charming!”

Temperance felt the warmth of Flaherty’s words for her daughter. “You certainly are, Maddy.”

Someone in front of them hissed for them to be quiet as they approached the center of the rose garden. Temperance put her finger to her lips, and Maddy nodded until her curls fell into her eyes, causing Flaherty to chuckle as he brushed the hair away.

Before they had to be shushed again, Temperance squeezed lightly on his arm.

He turned toward her. In the soft early morning light, she saw a faint flicker of an emotion she had not seen in a long time.

Was it due to the moment, or had it meant something more?

Before she could decide, he schooled his features until he once more wore a neutral expression—one she could not decipher. Probably for the best .

Merry and Francis spread out the quilts for the women to sit on, while Constance unpacked the basket.

Flaherty helped Temperance and Maddy to sit and reminded them not to leave until he came back to escort them to the house.

The married men bade their wives goodbye, and only the duke and Patrick remained behind, ostensibly to keep a close eye on the duchess, who was doing her best to ignore them.

She motioned for Maddy to help her, and Temperance’s heart melted at watching how carefully her daughter carried an acorn top in each hand, filled with dandelion wine, over to one of the rosebushes.

With Francis’s help, Richard and Abigail each carried a parsley leaf with a tiny piece of honey cake.

It took a bit of time for the little ones to deliver the faeries’ treats, but the duchess insisted that they do so. The fae were usually more willing to trust a child than an adult. Then they all sat down again to wait. To watch.

Maddy’s soft gasp had Temperance leaning close to ask, “Do you see something?”

Maddy pointed to the roses farthest from them. Richard and Abigail were transfixed staring at the same bushes. Temperance blinked, rubbed her eyes, and blinked again. “I’ve never seen dragonflies out before dawn.”

“Be careful not to startle the faeries,” the duchess warned.

Temperance’s heart wanted to believe that they were indeed faeries and not dragonflies, but she could not be certain.

If only they were not so far away. The duchess, her maid, and the others were watching just as intently.

Was she seeing things, or did that dragonfly just fly over that rose petal, land on it, cup its hands, and pat dew on its face?

A short, sharp whistle broke through the silence. The dragonflies—mayhap they truly were faeries—flew off.

The duke and O’Malley shot to their feet. “Close ranks,” O’Malley ordered everyone.

The duchess scooped up Abigail. Francis picked up Richard.

Gwendolyn had Deidre in her arms by the time Temperance had Maddy in hers.

Constance and Merry urged the others into a tight circle.

Before Temperance could ask what was wrong, Flaherty appeared out of the mist that settled on the garden as the first rays of the sun lit the sky.

Eamon O’Malley and Garahan joined the circle of men surrounding the women and children. While the other little ones did not seem to notice the men had drawn their weapons, Maddy did. “Mum,” she whispered, “they have pistols.”

“To protect us. We’re safe here.”

A few moments later, one of the tenant farmers approached from the path leading to the stables. “We caught him, Your Grace.”

“I’ll be along directly to question him,” the duke replied. “O’Malley, escort everyone inside and stand guard.” He turned to Flaherty. “Go with him.”

“Aye, Yer Grace.”

“Him who?” the duchess asked.

The duke shook his head. “Later.”

All thoughts of magic evaporated as their group was ushered inside. Temperance was concerned, but the other ladies seemed to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Was no one else worried?

She followed Constance and the others into the kitchen. “Has this happened before?”

Constance sighed. “Aye, but now is not the time to talk—there are mouths to feed and children to be coddled.”

The cook’s matter-of-fact tone reminded Temperance that now was not the time for discussion—it was time to prepare and serve a meal. The men would need to eat soon, too. “May I help with the morning meal?”

The cook hesitated, then must have noticed the worry Temperance could not hide. “I could use two helpers. Maddy, would you like to help your mum put the plates and utensils on the big tray? One of the footmen will carry it into the dining room.”

While they performed the task, Temperance could not help but wonder who the man they’d captured was.

Furthermore, what in Heaven’s name he’d expected to do at this hour of the day.

The confidence the duke and his guard exuded went a long way toward alleviating her immediate concern for Maddy’s safety and that of the other children.

Remembering how difficult the first few months of her pregnancy were, she realized it was time to think of others—not herself.

“A good breakfast will set you to rights,” Constance said. “That and a cup of my special tea.”

Temperance smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Can Maddy and I eat with you?”

The duchess swept into the kitchen and frowned. “Why haven’t you joined us in the dining room, Temperance?”

“I… Well… That is to say—”

“We cannot let the food get cold.” As she led the way to the dining room, the duchess pitched her voice to just above a whisper. “We keep the women and children with us at times like these. It helps to stay together. Less fretting.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

She slipped her arm through Temperance’s, watching Maddy skip ahead of them. “Your daughter is such a joy. Would you like to join us in the nursery after breakfast? Maddy likes to read to the twins and Deidre.”

Temperance did not hesitate to reply, “I would love to.”