Page 6 of The Duke’s Sharpshooter (The Duke’s Guard #14)
“When was the last time ye ate yer fill?” Temperance hesitated just long enough to ignite his temper.
“’Tis plain to anyone with an ounce of sense and clear vision that yer darling daughter has been eating well.
She’s got roses in her cheeks, a joyful expression on her face, and runs Merry, Constance, and Francis ragged trying to keep up with her. ”
When she remained silent, he leaned closer than was proper—but he needed her to understand how dire her situation was.
“Me grandda worked his fingers to the bone to feed his family when their potato crop failed two years in a row. Da and his brothers helped, but Grandda went too long without eating to ensure that me da and uncles ate their fill. He never fully regained his strength. You’d know how important the growing years are to a child, because sure as I’m sitting here staring at yer hollow cheeks, I recognize the signs. ”
She closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall.
Flaherty shot to his feet. “Ye’ve a right to care for yer daughter the way ye see fit, but to refuse food when it’s offered to ye is a sin!”
He spun around, intending to leave, and froze. “Yer Grace. I didn’t know ye were standing there.”
The duchess frowned. “I hope you haven’t spent the last few minutes haranguing Mrs. Johnson. She needs her rest, Rory, not to be chastised by the man who rescued her and her daughter.”
“I beg yer pardon, Yer Grace.”
“I believe you should be begging Mrs. Johnson’s.” She leveled him with a look he was more than familiar with, having felt the weight of it whenever he’d disappointed his ma.
He inclined his head and turned around. The look of surprise on Temperance’s face had him wondering: Had the lass been mistreated by her employers?
“Her Grace is right.” He glanced over his shoulder to add, “And usually is.” When the duchess’s frown faded, he turned back to the woman on the cot.
“Forgive me for taking me worry ye out on ye.” Raking a hand through his hair, he groaned.
“’Tis been eating at me gut since I found ye beneath that oak by the graveyard. But ye need to understand—”
“Where in the bloody hell are ye, Flaherty?” O’Malley’s voice echoed through the hallway.
“I’d best not find ye’ve been sweet-talking the lass when ye’re supposed to be relieving Garahan from his shift on the rooftop!
” His cousin’s sharply indrawn breath and immediate apology, when he saw the duchess, almost had Flaherty smiling.
But one look at the duchess’s face and he swallowed the grin.
“Apology accepted, Patrick,” the duchess replied. “However, you should know that Rory was in fact raising his voice to Mrs. Johnson.”
The intensity and temper in the duchess’s eyes had the head of the duke’s guard turning his ire on Flaherty. “Report to yer post immediately. Ye’re not to stop and speak to Mrs. Johnson again without permission.”
Flaherty’s back went up. “You cannot tell me—”
“Explain yourselves,” a deep voice boomed from behind them. “At once!”
“Were you looking for me, Jared?”
The duke entered the room and paused to study his wife’s face. “You know you are to keep your emotions on an even keel.” Sliding his hand around her waist, he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Flaherty had had a feeling that Her Grace was with child, and the duke’s words confirmed it. A glance at O’Malley was telling. He already knew of the duchess’s condition. No wonder he was issuing orders he normally would not have.
“Your Grace?”
The high-pitched voice had Flaherty wondering what Constance had been thinking to send Maddy into what could turn into a loud discussion .
Every one of the duke’s guard knew that the duchess had been slow to recover after discovering she was carrying again…
only to lose the babe a few weeks later.
He held his breath and prayed that the duke would temper his anger-laced worry when speaking to the little girl.
Relief speared through Flaherty at how quickly the duke’s frown vanished. “Miss Maddy, did Constance send you with an important message for me?”
She nodded and clapped her hands together. “Tea’s ready!” She stepped closer to the duke and motioned for him to bend down. When he complied, she whispered something in his ear that had the duke smiling.
“Indeed! Well then, my darling duchess, it seems I am to join you shortly. Miss Maddy will escort you to the sitting room. I shall be along in a few minutes.” The duke watched the little girl take the duchess’s hand and lead her away from the room.
“O’Malley, inform the men that they are to moderate their voices to an even tone and volume.
Any and all outbursts will have to wait until they are away from the house.
Differences will be settled in the outbuilding, and no one—I repeat, no one —will arrive for their shifts with blood on their faces or knuckles. Understood?”
Flaherty knew then that the duke was terrified his wife would miscarry again. Before his cousin replied, he assured His Grace, “Ye have me word that we’ll moderate our voices to what Her Grace likes to refer to as our inside voices.”
“And the men will not let their tempers show in front of Her Grace.” O’Malley paused and nodded to Temperance. “Or yerself, Mrs. Johnson. Forgive me for losing me temper in front of ye, when ye are still recoverin’.”
Flaherty watched her shocked surprise smooth into an expression of wonder. “There is nothing to forgive, Mr. O’Malley. I should not even be here, and will hopefully be able to leave tomorrow.”
“What’s this?” the duke asked. “You have barely recovered. It would be unconscionable for my wife or me to let you leave before we are assured that you will not have a relapse. I shall summon the physician to see you again. I have no doubt that he will reiterate his diagnosis that you require at least a sennight to recover.”
“Please do not go to the trouble. I’m certain that I’m well enough to know—”
Flaherty interrupted, “Do not argue with His Grace.”
“Oh, but I wasn’t arguing. Your Grace, please forgive me, but I do not want you to feel that I am overstaying my welcome.”
The Duke of Wyndmere sighed. “My darling duchess reminds me when she is disagreeing with me that she is not arguing , simply has a point to make that requires my full attention.”
O’Malley snorted, trying to cover his laughter, but the duke heard. “I would not be so quick to laugh, O’Malley. I know for a fact that your wife has adopted my wife’s way of thinking.” Turning to Flaherty, the duke added, “Strong women like to have their way, but still need coddling.”
“Aye, Yer Grace.”
The duke bade Temperance goodbye and left the room, O’Malley following in his wake.
Flaherty saw his opportunity to fully explain why he had raised his voice to the lass, but then his cousin reappeared in the doorway. His frown fierce, O’Malley bit out, “Rooftop. Now!”
With a brief glance at the woman staring up at him, Flaherty spun around and strode from the room. He would have that talk with the lass later. She would understand—and capitulate!