Chapter Six #2
Rheumy eyes locked on Flaherty. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“I always say what I mean.”
“That’s what Miss Stanhope is afraid of.”
Flaherty’s gut roiled. “Garahan just mentioned that she’s not eating, and I—”
“You are the reason she’s heaped guilt on top of the worry that she will not be able to keep that man from stealing Millie’s babe.”
“What man? What do you know about Millie and her babe?”
“I knew Millie’s mum, and what a fine lady she was, having worked for Millie’s grandfather.”
“I had no idea. Is that why when they ran and they headed here—the Borderlands?”
Old Ned sighed. “Aye. With Parliament in session, she had no one else beside Miss Pippa. That poor woman is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders while trying her best to protect Millie and her babe.”
Flaherty fought to contain the spark that would set fire to his temper. “’Tis why I brought them here, to safety.”
“Are all Irishmen as thickheaded as you?” the stable master demanded.
Flaherty snorted. “’Tisn’t that we Irish are thickheaded at all. We just need ample proof before we make up our minds.”
Instead of the reaction Flaherty expected, the older man gave a fierce frown. “How much more proof do you need that Miss Pippa did not mean to injure you? If you had tripped and fallen, your weapon would have gone off, same as hers.”
“Ah, but I wouldn’t have fallen backward because I never retreat!”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing by refusing to speak to Miss Pippa? The least you can do is listen to what she has to say, and open your black heart and forgive her!”
That was the second time in less than a quarter of an hour that Flaherty had been accused of having a black heart.
With that, the stable master turned his back on Flaherty—again—and led the gelding out to the enclosure.
Shocked at the way Old Ned had spoken to him, Flaherty realized that he should have been listening to Garahan all along.
His cousin had been adamant that Flaherty speak to the lass.
His pride had been battered yet again, what he could not discern was why.
He had done nothing wrong! ’Twas past time he made amends, spoke to the lass, and eased her guilt enough that she would eat.
God help him—his ma was right. His stiff-necked pride would be his downfall!
*
Pippa was smiling as she descended the servants’ staircase.
She’d enjoyed spending time in the nursery’s schoolroom getting to know the twins.
Percy and Phineas were inquisitive, energetic little boys, who repeated everything they heard with relish.
Some conversations were beyond their comprehension, but they still repeated them verbatim.
She shook her head, remembering something Percy had overheard one of the stable lads say and repeated.
Some things were best left unsaid, but she appreciated knowing that they trusted her as someone they could repeat everything they overhead to, without fear of her chastising them for eavesdropping.
Her thoughts still on the entertaining pair, she stepped into the kitchen, and hit a wall of muscle. A deep grunt was followed by a strong arm wrapping around her. She needed to thank whichever guard she’d run into, but was afraid by the silence that followed the sound that it was Flaherty.
“’Tisn’t safe not to look where ye’re going, lass.” He dropped his hands and took a step back from her.
It had been days since she’d seen him, and longer than that since he’d willingly spoken to her. Staring at the top button of his waistcoat, she murmured, “I knew where I was going.”
His snort of derision had her bracing for the harsh words that would surely follow.
When he remained silent, she dared a glance up and caught a look of abject misery in the depths of his sapphire eyes.
Was it pain from his injuries, or had something happened to his brothers?
Caro and Prudence had been filling her in on the men who made up the duke’s private guard when she joined them in the nursery daily to watch the twins and keep Millie company.
Hoping to ease some of his troubles—not add to them—she placed a hand to his forearm and felt the muscles tense. Before she could form the words, he said, “Surely ye understand that knowing and looking are not the same.”
“Yes. I understand.” She pinched herself, needing to know that she wasn’t in the middle of a daydream—Flaherty was speaking to her.
Pippa wished the chasm between them were not so wide.
With each day that passed, his refusal to speak to her had cut deeper.
It wasn’t that she wanted to be absolved, but she wanted him to accept her apology.
Without that, she would never be able to move past the hurt she had caused him.
“Mr. Flaherty, I’m—”
“’Tis just Flaherty.”
The depth of his voice and the heat pouring off him scattered her thoughts.
She blinked and tried to recall what she had been about to say.
Drawing in a deep breath to clear her mind, she found herself distracted by the scent of him.
Hay, leather, horse and… Pippa inhaled again, this time holding her breath to untangle and discern each scent.
Ah, yes, rosemary, with an underlying hint of sandalwood…
Strong hands gripped her upper arms. “Breathe!”
She blinked and realized she’d been concentrating so hard on identifying the layers of scent that she’d forgotten to exhale. She did so, but then had trouble inhaling again.
“For the love of God, woman, breathe!”
“Can’t,” she rasped, pounding on her chest, hoping that would help.
“Bloody hell!”
The room darkened around the edges until there was just a tiny pinpoint of light in front of her before the darkness swallowed her.