Chapter Six
Flaherty walked to the stables, listening to Garahan blather on about the newest additions to Summerfield Chase. For the first week after his injury, he was not allowed to do much at all. Thankfully, for last fortnight, he’d been given tasks…though they were fit for a clerk.
When he was not busy with those duties, he oversaw the twins’ visits to the stables until Dr. Higgins was satisfied with his recovery.
The lads had been given the daily task of feeding the baron’s horses treats.
Even the baron’s stallion watched for the arrival of Percy and Phineas.
But neither of the tasks that Flaherty had been given were fit for a man known for being the duke’s cavalier—a man trained in arms and horsemanship!
Flaherty was proficient in all manner of weapons, as well as hand-to-hand combat, thanks to his bare-knuckle skills.
Every Irishman worth his salt was an excellent horseman.
Given the extra tasks, he had not been able to spend much time speaking with either of the women he’d rescued.
Though he had made certain to inquire as to how they fared on a daily basis.
He was pleased to hear Millie and her babe were improving daily and Pippa was making herself useful lending a hand wherever needed.
His wounds were healing, but unfortunately, the one to his pride was still raw.
It did not help that his cousins felt obliged to ask how the lass had got the jump on him—at least three times a day!
How in the bloody hell was he supposed to move on and forget the incident if Garahan and O’Malley reminded him of it at every turn?
When they were not deviling him about the lead balls removed from his hide, they were demanding to know when in the bloody hell he planned to apologize to the lass and put her out of her misery!
Her misery? He was the one who been shot and then suffered through the extraction of the lead balls and subsequent stitches.
Flaherty set those thoughts aside, as they only served to rile him.
His mind drifted toward Millie and her babe.
They had certainly become the talk of the manor house.
Flaherty sensed that knowing her babe was safe had helped Millie recover from the journey after his birth, and the birth itself.
Having her here had brought Flaherty a newfound appreciation for what a woman suffered during—and after—childbirth.
These last three weeks, Millie had been following the physician’s orders, staying in bed and then gradually being allowed to rise for a few hours at a time, joining the women in the sitting room and nursery.
The rest and care had added much-needed color to her cheeks and a smile to her face.
Much was made of little Roarke’s lusty cries to be fed.
How quickly the babe had taken to not only the baroness, but Caro and Prudence as well.
He smiled thinking of the twin hooligans’ reaction to the babe.
Upon meeting him, Percy and Phineas had immediately started talking to the babe.
They seemed dejected when the babe didn’t respond.
They listened to Millie’s explanation that her son heard sounds and would come to recognize their voices.
Hearing that little Roarke would learn from watching and listening impressed the two little boys.
His smile faded as his thoughts returned to Caro, Prudence, and the baroness.
Those three women were going to be the death of Flaherty.
Their pointed stares had turned to glares the longer he went without actually speaking to the lass.
It was as if they blamed him for holding a grudge—and not Pippa for tripping and accidentally shooting him!
How could he hope to forget how the curvaceous lass with the blue-gray eyes and angel-blonde hair had tried to kill him, if he was constantly being reminded of what happened by his cousins?
“Are ye not listening?” Garahan demanded.
“What?” When his cousin glared at him, Flaherty shrugged.
“’Tis no wonder that Millie and her babe are thriving here.
The credit goes to not only her ladyship, but also to yer Prudence and O’Malley’s Caro.
It does me heart good to know that they are safe, and getting enough to eat to regain their strength.
Though once ye start talking about the lass, I stopped listening. ”
“She’s been trying to speak to ye, and constantly asks after yer health and recovery.”
Flaherty tried to ignore yet one more layer of guilt heaped upon his head. “I’m late for me shift.”
“Ye aren’t supposed to be on duty until Dr. Higgins releases ye.”
“Me replacement sprained his ankle chasing after his recalcitrant cow. There is no possible way for him to guard the perimeter. Ye know well that a large part of our duties is to dismount and chase after intruders on foot if need be. I’m on me way to report in for duty.
O’Malley will no doubt be asking another of the men we’ve trained to add to our numbers when—and if—trouble comes calling.
Until and unless he finds someone to take me place, ye know where to find me. ”
“Ye’re a horse’s arse, Dillon!”
“Better that than a horse’s cock, like yerself.” Flaherty dodged the fist aimed at his chin, and felt the glancing blow to his jaw. “Well now, seems ye’re out of practice. Is O’Malley too busy to go a few rounds with ye?”
“Shut yer gob!” Garahan growled. “Himself has enough to do, given that he and his lordship have been putting their heads together to come up with a plan to add another layer of protection around Summerfield Chase. Shifting men around to cover yer duties has put a strain on things. He’s looking to hire on a half a dozen new footmen. ”
“What he needs is a few more fighting men,” Flaherty replied.
“Aye, hopefully none with a short fuse like yers,” Garahan grumbled.
Blast it all, Garahan knew how to get a rise out of him.
Flaherty could not afford to lose his temper, but he was holding on to it by a thread!
He knew could get his cousin’s attention with a solid right cross, but then Garahan would be obliged to deliver an uppercut.
Undoubtedly that would lead to a satisfying few rounds of bare-knuckle fighting, which neither had the time for.
God help him, he missed sparring with his cousins… Garahan in particular.
Needing to defuse his cousin’s ire, Flaherty asked, “Have ye had a look at any of the men he’s taking on?”
Garahan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ye’re like a thorn in a man’s hide!”
“Have I been one in yer arse, Ryan?”
Garahan snorted. “That ye have been, ye bugger. And to answer yer question, I have taken the measure of a few of the men. There’s one in particular that looks like a possibility to either add to our guard…
or keep a close eye on. That’s without knowing the man’s qualifications, temperament, and whether or not he would be willing to put himself in the line of fire to protect the baron and baroness, me wife, and O’Malley’s. ”
“And don’t be forgetting Millie and her babe.”
Garahan waited a beat, then added, “And Pippa.”
Flaherty pointedly avoided uttering her name. “Aye, her as well.”
“Ye may be recovering from yer wounds, but have ye given a thought to easing the lass’s suffering? She blames herself.”
“She was the one holding the blunderbuss,” Flaherty reminded him.
“When did ye become such a heartless blackguard?”
Flaherty gaped at his cousin. “Heartless? Blackguard?”
“Ye heard me. Only a man without a heart would let the lass wallow in guilt. Mrs. Green mentioned that she barely eats.”
The layers of guilt Garahan just piled on top of the ones Flaherty had been carrying were close to suffocating him. “When was the last time she ate a full meal?”
“Do ye care?”
Flaherty reached for Garahan’s throat, but his cousin was quick on his feet and moved out of range. “’Tisn’t just the lead balls that Dr. Higgins dug out, nor the threads he used to close the wounds that pain me.”
Garahan eyed him and sighed. “’Tis yer fecking pride. I’d be feeling it meself, were I in yer boots.”
“Then ye understand why—”
“Ye’ll want to stop there, boy-o. I may understand the nick to yer pride, but Pippa is suffering. That ye’d let that brave lass go without the sustenance she needs is unconscionable!”
Bile sloshed in Flaherty’s gut. He ignored the queasy feeling and demanded, “Why did ye not tell me the lass wasn’t eating? She’s a little bit of a thing and needs to eat just like the rest of us.”
Garahan held Flaherty’s gaze for a moment before asking, “What do ye plan to do about it?”
“Nothing until me shift is over.”
“And then…?”
“I mean to see that she eats. Food has been offered without strings. She’ll eat, or I’ll know the reason why!”
Flaherty opened the door to the stables and stepped into the semidarkness. It was just past dawn, and the sun had yet to reach the windows to illuminate the interior. Old Ned looked over his shoulder at him and slipped the bridle on the gelding without speaking.
The stable master had never been anything but genial since Flaherty arrived at Summerfield Chase.
The man communicated on a different level with the baron’s horses, and every one of them thrived under his care.
Something must have happened that Flaherty was unaware of.
“Is something wrong with one of the horses? Can I help?”
His question went unanswered as the man kept his back turned.
Surprised that the stable master did not reply, Flaherty sensed that something was seriously wrong. “’Tisn’t St. George, is it? The stallion is like family to his lordship.”
Old Ned paused and shook his head. “You have no idea what you have done, do you?”
“I have never mistreated any one of the fine horses in his lordship’s stables, or anywhere else for that matter.”
The stable master started to walk away again, but Flaherty followed and reached out to put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I swear I’ll fix it.”