Page 8 of The Duke’s Sharpshooter (The Duke’s Guard #14)
T emperance could not help but worry. Maddy had been out of her sight for a good portion of the last few days.
Whenever the little girl returned to the small room at the opposite end of the hall from the kitchen, she was bubbling over with tales of scones and teacakes, dark-haired, blue-eyed twins, books, and castles built with blocks.
Her daughter was inquisitive, constantly asking questions, from the time she awoke until she closed her eyes at night.
Thinking of how quickly she had fallen asleep the night before, Temperance could not help but give credit to the persons responsible for the change.
Maddy was more like her cheerful, joyous self.
Gone was the reserved little girl who seemed to be shouldering responsibilities far beyond her years.
Temperance was beyond grateful to Flaherty for coming to their aid, and to the duke and duchess for their kind offer of a place to stay while she gathered her strength.
She shivered knowing that if it were not for Flaherty, they’d still be sheltering in the middle of that copse of trees.
Instead they were treated as if their existence mattered, safe and secure beneath the duke’s roof.
Their emotional, and physical, wellbeing thrived.
Maddy had eaten her fill, and then some, since arriving.
She was happier than she had been in a very long time.
Still guilt threatened to pull Temperance under.
She knew that her inability to secure a position for more than a few months at a time had led to their nomadic existence.
Temperance was adept at cooking and cleaning and had found more than one position.
Keeping a job was the issue when it became apparent that those who hired her mistakenly thought, because of her marital status, she would submit to them when cornered.
She had been married to a man who loved her and their unborn child, and had vowed never to allow any man to use her for his own pleasure, especially one who believed it his right as her employer.
Temperance had fought back. It had been so unexpected that she had successfully evaded more than one employer’s foul intentions, allowing her to scoop up her daughter and their bag and flee.
The village had been her last hope. She’d hoped to find a position at the inn.
There was a better chance that she could keep Maddy with her if she worked there.
Her thoughts returned to the sight of her four-year-old rushing into the room yesterday, brimming with excitement, announcing she had been hired as the sweets taster. The perfect job for Maddy, who loved anything sweet.
“You’d be so proud of our little girl, Paul.”
Thoughts of her late husband started the unending circle of questions that had gone unanswered.
Why had Paul and his brother stayed behind, bracing the weakened supports of the mine, when no one should have been working in those conditions in the first place?
Why hadn’t one of the other miners offered to stay and help while the others escaped to safety?
Every time she closed her eyes, she could picture the two men standing on either side of the tunnel, feet spread, an arm braced on the support above their heads, and the other against the vertical supports.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. The very last thing she wanted was for the footman stationed in the hallway to hear her crying. She stifled the sob that rose in her throat.
Remembering that horrible day, and the ones that followed, she kept asking herself the same question: why had the owner let the miners continue to work in unsafe conditions?
The answer that whispered in the back of her mind never changed: money.
Coal was in demand and a valuable commodity.
The owner had offered his trite, soulless condolences while tales of the Johnson brothers’ strength and bravery had spread through the mining town.
Survivors spoke of the Johnsons’ courage while waiting for the brothers to rush out of the mine.
Instead, those gathered outside the mine felt the ground rumble beneath their feet.
The rumbling stopped, punctuated with a cloud of dust that belched from entrance to the mine.
The survivors had bowed their heads, praying for the souls of the brothers who’d risked their lives only to perish as the tunnel collapsed.
It had taken a week to clear a path to retrieve their remains. Temperance knew that, if not for the valuable carload of coal buried with her husband and brother-in-law, the owners would have abandoned that shaft and concentrated their efforts on one of the others.
Merry bustled into the room and paused, staring at Temperance, who was not quick enough to hide the fact that she had been weeping.
The kindly housekeeper walked over, reached into her pocket, and offered her handkerchief to Temperance.
She sniffed and thanked the woman, who waited for Temperance to regain her composure.
“We have an extensive herb garden. I have no doubt that we have a herb to alleviate whatever ails you.”
Temperance wiped her eyes. “I appreciate everything you have done for Maddy and me, but you have other duties. Please do not worry about me, Merry. I’m quite certain I shall be ready to leave in the morning.”
Merry stared at her, pursed her lips, and nodded. Without another word, the housekeeper left the room.
Had Temperance unknowingly insulted the woman, after Merry had been kindness itself?
Surely no one expected her to continue to take advantage of the largesse of the duke and duchess without repaying them.
She was not used to accepting help in the first place, let alone from such a high-ranking member of the ton . Temperance had to apologize—at once!
She shoved the blanket off her lap and shot to her feet, ignoring her spinning head and fading vision.
Pushing herself to follow after the housekeeper, she felt her strength lagging.
Not now! Feeling the overwhelming need to be of service, and not be waited on, she forged ahead.
Halfway to the kitchen, her legs wobbled.
She tripped and threw her hands out in front of her to break her fall.
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and she was saved from smacking her head on the floor.
“I’ve got ye, lass.” The familiar lilt of Flaherty’s voice soothed her jangled nerves as he scooped her into his arms, settling her against his broad chest. “Before I set ye down, ye’ll tell me what in blazes ye were thinking. Where were ye going?”
Defeated, she couldn’t speak. She’d had a few years to find a way to provide for her daughter and failed miserably time and again.
If not for this man finding them by the graveyard, demanding to know who she was and what she was doing, she had no doubt that they would have spent the last few nights on a bed of pine needles.
Growing up in the small mining town, she had never given a thought to foraging for food—there were local shops where her family purchased what they needed.
Her father had been a miner, as had Paul’s.
Used to the way of life, she’d never given a thought to leaving their village.
But after losing everything, she’d had no other choice.
Faced with moving on again after leaving another untenable situation, Temperance had found herself in yet another town, no mine in sight.
With little-to-no money, she’d had to resort to providing something to eat from the land around them, but had no idea where to begin.
Which plants were poisonous, and which were safe to eat?
Flaherty’s powerful chest expanded beneath her cheek, followed by an audible, exasperated sigh. She had not seen him these two days past. Given the circumstances, she had not wanted him to see that she was still not steady on her feet or strong enough to care for her daughter.
He mumbled something unintelligible beneath his breath, and she sensed he was extremely vexed with her.
Afraid to ask, she remained silent. The heat pouring off Flaherty should have soothed her, but instead it added to the ache in her heart.
It reminded her of the day her husband had swept her off her feet and into his arms, delighted with the news that she was expecting.
His loss lanced through her as if it were yesterday.
Unable to hold them back, her tears fell, and she could do nothing to stop them.
“Ah, lass, don’t be weeping.”
The rumbling command had her turning her face into the crook of his neck. Memories she’d held off for too long bombarded her.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Flaherty urged. “Then I’ll fix it.”
Words got caught in her throat as she finally accepted the loss of her husband, and began to grieve.
*
“Fetch Merry and Constance!” Flaherty barked.
The footman did not need to be told twice.
Flaherty could soon hear raised voices and was relieved.
The women were accustomed to handling a bout of tears.
But it was not only the housekeeper and the cook who rushed toward him, but Her Grace and Miss Maddy, too.
“What happened?” the duchess asked.
“Did Temperance collapse?” Constance asked.
Merry murmured, “This is all my fault.”
“The lass was weaving on her feet when I stepped into the hallway,” Flaherty told them. “I caught her as she tripped. How could that be yer fault, Merry?”
The normally even-tempered woman wrung her hands. “She told me she and Maddy would be leaving in the morning. I turned and left without answering her, because I knew Her Grace would not want her to leave and had to tell her.”
“You are absolutely right, Merry,” Persephone agreed. “I do not want them to leave. It has only been a few days and the physician said it would take at least a sennight for Temperance to recover from the fever.”
“A fortnight would be better,” Constance added.