Page 22 of The Duke’s Sharpshooter (The Duke’s Guard #14)

T emperance felt lightheaded. Had Flaherty asked her to marry him, or had she dreamed it? By the time she regained her composure and glanced around her, she and Constance were the only two people in the kitchen. “Where’s Maddy?”

“She went with Francis to the nursery to read stories.”

“I should go too. Maddy shouldn’t be alone.”

The older woman put her arm around Temperance and led her over to one of the spindle-backed chairs.

“Your daughter is loved by everyone here at Wyndmere Hall, including the duke and duchess.” Temperance hesitated until Constance added in a firm voice, “Sit down before you fall down. What you need is a bracing cup of tea.”

The kindly cook set a cup and saucer in front of Temperance, urging her to drink up.

After a sip or two, Temperance could not contain her curiosity.

“Did I imagine it? Did Flaherty truly ask…” She could not get the words out.

If he had asked her, and she stood there like a statue in a museum, not answering him, what must he think of her?

“To marry you? Yes. Did you hear what your darling daughter said to him after he asked you?”

Temperance shook her head.

Constance frowned. “Then you did not hear what she said when you stood frozen in place?”

“No. I’m sorry, I did not. What did she say?”

“Your dear little girl asked you to say yes. Then she told Flaherty she’d marry him, because she loves him.”

Tears filled Temperance’s eyes, but she did not care. She was gutted and could not believe what had just happened. The man treated Maddy as if she mattered, and enjoyed her company. Flaherty constantly showered Maddy with praise for the little things she did in the kitchen and the nursery.

The auburn-haired, blue-eyed giant of a man had singled her out and proposed to her!

Why couldn’t she have said something—anything?

Her mind was riddled with gossip and innuendo that had been nipping at her heels.

Every unkind word and slanderous comment had stuck to her, shaking her conviction that she still had worth as a widow.

Sitting in the Duke of Wyndmere’s kitchen with his cook, she remembered the last time she had felt as if she mattered.

It was hours after the tragedy and the attempts to rescue Paul and his brother.

The men her husband and brother-in-law rescued had stood in a semicircle on either side of her with their heads bowed, shoulders slumped, as the vicar said a prayer for the souls of the two brave men who were surely needed in Heaven as warrior guardian angels.

While Constance chatted, Temperance’s mind drifted from thought to thought, memory to memory, circling until her head ached abominably.

When had she started to believe the slings and arrows, the barbs and taunts of those who did not know her?

When had their ugly words seeped into her soul?

She had no idea. But she had begun to question her every thought, word, and deed, suspected that the awful things others said about her were true.

She was not worthy of any man, let alone the paragon of a man who put his life on the line daily to protect the duke and his family.

Temperance had heard the tales of the bravery he and his family exhibited.

In spite of the danger, they had taken a vow to give their lives if necessary.

It was not a job suited to just any man—Flaherty carried his honor like a shield, upheld his vow, wielding it like a weapon.

She could not even manage to maintain a position for longer than a month at a time.

Flaherty deserved someone far better than the much-maligned widow who, some proclaimed, had never been married. Still others whispered that she had either had her child out of wedlock, or she had kidnapped the child.

She had been proud to be a coal miner’s wife, had worked hard to keep his home, and was overjoyed when she discovered she was expecting his babe—only to be struck with utter despair when word of the mine disaster reached her.

Tears fell, and she hastily wiped them away.

There was no use in crying. “He and his brother saved twenty men,” she whispered, accepting a proffered handkerchief without looking up.

“Not all of those men were married or had babes.” She did finally look up then, and saw the stricken look on Constance’s face.

“My husband and his brother gave their lives for those men. They must have known the collapse was imminent. None of the other men were as tall or broad as Paul or Matt.”

The work-roughened hand that clasped hers held tight. “It sounds as if you are describing Flaherty.”

Temperance wondered if that was why she’d felt safe with Flaherty. Was it because he reminded her of her late husband? How could she accept the proposal of another man when she wasn’t certain her heart was whole?

“I have nothing to offer Flaherty but a tattered reputation and another man’s child.”

Constance released Temperance’s hand, then reached for the teapot, refilled their cups, and passed the cream.

“Drink while it’s hot. It will settle your nerves, and Lord knows you have had a trying day—we all have.

” When Temperance sipped from her teacup, the older woman added, “Give yourself time to accept that your daughter was found, and is safe and sound reading stories to Richard, Abigail, and Deidre.”

Temperance set her cup on its saucer. “Thank you for your kindness, Constance. I haven’t spoken of my husband in three long years.”

“That is a long time to hold grief inside. What you need is to let the rest of it out, and accept that none of us know how many days, weeks, or years we have on Earth before we are called home. You may want to ask yourself if your husband would want a man of Flaherty’s character, bravery, and ability to protect Maddy and yourself to offer marriage and step in to help you raise your daughter. ”

Shocked to the core, Temperance stared at Constance.

“Have you given a thought to the possibility that the Lord planned this for you and Maddy?” the cook continued.

“That He has seen you struggle, knows of your hardships, and put you and Maddy in Flaherty’s path?

” She sighed. “I can see that you have not. Mayhap you should take the time and reflect on what I’ve said. ”

“Thank you, Constance. It has been a very long time since I have been treated with kindness and respect.” Temperance helped clear their tea things away and started gathering the utensils and linens for the evening meal.

The cook shooed her toward the door. “Go upstairs and lie down for a little while.” When Temperance protested, Constance raised a hand.

“After what happened, there is not a chance anyone on His Grace’s staff would allow that little moppet to leave this house.

She will be watched like a hawk, now that everyone knows she has a mind of her own and managed to slip out of the house. ”

Exhaustion weighed Temperance down. With the cook’s assurances, she agreed to her suggestion. “Please do not let me rest for more than half an hour.”

Constance nodded and again motioned for her to leave.

This time, Temperance did.