Chapter Ten
Eileen slipped the shawl around her shoulders and stared at her reflection in the small looking glass. Her face looked wan, drawn, as if she’d been ill for quite some time. She pinched her cheeks so she had a bit of color in them, otherwise Da would worry.
“He’s already worried,” she told her reflection.
He’d asked her three times if she were feeling poorly when she returned from meeting with Ruan.
She’d expected him to rail at her for taking it upon herself to go in his stead to speak to the Frenchman, but he hadn’t.
That caused worry to slice through her. Why hadn’t he?
Neither one of them had been acting the same since she’d pulled Flaherty out of the briny deep.
In her heart she knew her father had hoped she would marry the handsome Irishman, which would repair the reputation he’d damaged without intending to.
“And now he’s gone.” The words sounded harsh and her throat ached from holding back the anguished cry poised on her lips.
If she hadn’t taken immediate umbrage to Flaherty’s blatant perusal and interest nearly a year ago, would he have offered marriage?
If he had, and she had accepted, she would not only be his widow, but mayhap carrying their babe.
Aching inside, she whispered, “Lord, had I not reacted instinctively, would he still be alive? Did my decision at the time cause his death?”
Only God knew the answer to that. After the whispers began swirling through their village, how could she have accepted his proposal without having another rumor begin to circulate—one that would have the villagers wondering if she carried Flaherty’s babe in her belly?
It was his fault that the rumors had started in the first place.
In that moment, she realized that she had yet to forgive him.
Though he had caused friends and neighbors to question her reputation.
“It doesn’t matter now.” She could not change the past, no matter how she prayed she could.
It was a harsh lesson, one she would never forget, and one she would never forgive herself for.
Pride should never take precedence over kindness and good acts.
Her ignoring Flaherty, when she’d seen the look in his eyes when first he spotted her, had poked at his pride.
He was not alone in the destruction of her reputation.
And that was something she would have to live with for the rest of her life.
Had she acted differently, it was possible that none of what happened after their first meeting in the Mermaid’s Glass would have occurred.
Another thought pierced through what was left of her pride: Flaherty would still have been felled by the sharpshooter on his return to Penwith Tower from the village, no matter what her response had been.
Her acknowledging his attraction, and admitting to her own, could not have prevented what happened.
Neither his broad shoulders, nor his stubborn Irish pride, could have stopped the lead ball from piercing his skull.
She closed her eyes for a moment, but Tremayne’s description of what happened after Flaherty had been shot filled her mind’s eye.
The images of the dastardly murder of one of the Duke of Wyndmere’s guards tore at her heart.
Instead of trying to let it go, Eileen clung to the pain.
The very least she could do for him was to mourn his passing and truly grieve the brave man.
She would dig deep for the wherewithal to face those who would who pass along whatever vitriolic slander her neighbors would invent with her chin held high and fire in her eyes.
Resolved, he smoothed her hands down her skirts. If her father, Tremayne, and Ruan thought she would be weak and weeping at the wake, they were in for a surprise.
As she studied her haggard reflection, she asked, “Lord, are you punishing me? Is that why you let me save Flaherty during the storm, and start thinking foolish thoughts when he kissed me, but then took him anyway?”
Silence was her reply, though she hadn’t really expected to hear a deep, heavenly voice answer her question.
Wondering if grief could make a person lose their mind, she drew in a deep breath, slowly exhaled, then drew in another.
Taking one last look at herself, she spied a loose hairpin and tucked it in.
Gathering her composure around her as she had done with her shawl, she opened her door and paused.
Da and Tremayne were staring at her, leaving her to wonder what they expected to see.
A distraught woman? In truth, she had been earlier, but she had composed herself, and would not embarrass her father, or herself, by arriving at the wake weeping.
A wake was the time for the gathering of friends and neighbors to celebrate a person’s life.
There would be food and drink. Some would tell stories.
Rafferty was bound to break out in song once he had enough ale in him.
Though the villagers had not known the duke’s men long, they had come to count on them in times of trouble, and had certainly banded around them months ago when O’Malley had nearly been hanged outside the Excise Office.
“I wish we were going to a céilí instead of a wake,” she murmured as Da opened the door for her. She stepped outside and glanced up at the clouds skidding overhead in the late afternoon breeze.
“We’d better not keep Ruan waiting,” Tremayne said.
“Aye,” her father agreed. He opened the door to the barn and cursed.
“What’s wrong?” Eileen asked.
“I forgot to ask MacManus if I could borrow his wagon. We’ll have to double up on one of the horses.”
Tremayne turned to her and said, “My horse can easily carry two.”
Before she could think to refuse his offer, Tremayne’s hands were at her waist. He swept her off her feet and onto his horse’s back. Mounting behind her, he wrapped an arm around her and said, “Just a mile or so won’t be a problem. Ready, Doonan?”
Her father stared at the lieutenant for a moment before answering, “Aye.”
They arrived as Ruan and his entourage reached the agreed-upon spot. “Doonan,” the Frenchman called out.
“Ruan,” her father replied.
The smuggler was silent for a moment before saying, “Walk with me.”
Eileen sensed it wasn’t a question, and obviously her father felt the same. He dismounted and held out the reins to his horse. “Tremayne, why don’t you and Eileen go on ahead? We’ll be along shortly.”
She could feel the tension in the lieutenant’s body, and thought he would refuse. He surprised her by agreeing. “Best hurry—don’t forget, we’re guarding Flaherty.” Tremayne clicked to his mount and continued on toward Penwith Tower.
“What did you mean by you and Da are guarding Flaherty?” she asked as they reached the tower and rode under the archway. “Do you and he anticipate trouble?” Before he could answer, she added, “Who would dare to accost a dead man?”
Tremayne nodded to one of the stable lads and dismounted, then placed his hands around Eileen’s waist and lifted her off the back of his horse as if she were light as thistledown.
She knew for a fact that she wasn’t. He was equal in size, stature, and physique to Flaherty, and for a moment she let herself imagine what it would have felt like if he had been the one to sweep her off the horse’s back.
Before her thoughts could tangle further, O’Malley’s wife rushed toward her.
“There you are.” Mollie reached for Eileen’s hand.
“I could use a hand setting out the rest of the food. Mrs. Castleton and one of the maids from the duke’s manor are already here.
We could have handled organizing the food we prepared, but so many of the villagers have been dropping off food all morning.
” She sighed. “I truly hadn’t thought that so many of them would be paying their respects. ”
“Do not underestimate how grateful the good people of St. Ives are to have the new duke tending to his duties in and around the village.” Eileen remembered her father telling her of the fourth duke being a benevolent and caring man.
Not much had been said about the fifth duke, but upon his death, rumors began to circulate in and around their village that better times were on the horizon now that the sixth duke had accepted the responsibility of caring for the people in and around his properties.
“You’re right,” Mollie said. “I have been so caught up with everything that occurred before that detestable excise man set his sights on my Finn, then our darling babe arrived, and now…this.”
Eileen felt her composure start to crack, but she kept a look of understanding on her face, instead of the anguish she’d bottled up inside of her.
“I believe you left out quite a bit that happened from the time you arrived, such as the attempted destruction of the newly repaired curtain wall around Penwith Tower.”
“True,” Mollie agreed. “That event did set off a series of attacks, kidnapping—and more, ending with my husband standing on that bloody scaffold…”
Eileen reached for Mollie’s trembling hands. “Forgive me for bringing up such devastating memories. I haven’t been myself since the night of the storm.”
Mollie’s trembling stopped, and her eyes met Eileen’s. “Fenton would have protected you with his life. Instead it was taken from him by a bloody blackguard who chose to shoot him from behind again! This time aiming higher.”
Eileen had not been prepared for the anger that surged through her at the other woman’s words.
Mollie was right! The man—one of Judson’s wreckers, no doubt—had one thought in mind, to annihilate the duke’s men—choosing to start with Flaherty, the auburn-haired giant of a man who’d turned her head from the first. “My father and Ruan will avenge Flaherty’s death.
” It was a promise she intended to see that the men kept.
“So will my Finn.” Mollie wiped at her tears as she led Eileen into the building that housed the kitchen.