Before Maddy had a chance to speak, another most welcome voice entered the conversation.
“If you say one more word to her,” Beau said, his voice sounding more threatening than she’d ever thought possible, “I am going to shove my boot so far up your backside it’s going to lodge in your throat so you can never speak another.”
Nelson’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat, then turned to face Beau.
“Mr. da Silva,” he said. “Excuse me, but Miss Murray and I were having a private conversation.”
“You do not get the privilege of having a private conversation with her,” Beau replied. “And if I see you within half a mile of her, I promise you will very, very sorry indeed.”
Maddy saw Nelson’s anger bloom under his collar, chasing up the sides of his face. He looked between her and Beau, whose normally joyful expression had turned hard and told Nelson, without saying another word, that he was not to be trifled with. In response, Nelson straightened his hat, nodded to Maddy, then brushed past her and into the parlour car beyond. As the door closed behind him, Maddy heaved a huge sigh of relief.
“That is the last you’ll see of him,” he said, his expression still serious. “I promise you that.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“I know you didn’t need saving,” he said, “but given the events since we arrived on this journey, I at least needed to return the favour.”
His mouth quirked up in a smile, a movement that was followed with a wince.
* * *
It was dark by the time Maddy arrived home in the cab Beau had hired to take them to Everwell, before he left for his aunt and uncle’s residence. Rimple, Phillipa, and Elouise, along with the Everwell matriarchs Lady Em and Tilda, had come to greet her, and Beau excused himself without looking back. It stung, like the first time she’d accidentally tried to pull at a nettle without her gloves.
There were lots of kisses and hugs, and Maddy took in a deep big breath of the familiar scents of home. Elouise had decided to stay at Everwell while Dominic was away, and Maddy was thrilled to see her. It was good to be home again; and yet there was much to say, and so much more she could not. She was weary in both body and soul, and Phillipa eschewed the normal post-job review until Maddy, and the rest of the house, had a good night’s sleep. She climbed the stairs and found her room exactly as she’d left it. It was as if everything and nothing had happened, and she could no longer tell what was better.
The next morning, after the breakfast was cleared and Gemma had arrived to get the school day started for the girls, the remainder of the Scandalous Spinsters, along with Lady Em and Tilda, gathered in the parlour. Maddy sat on the settee, Rimple and Elouise on either side of her. Did they sense she needed their support this morning?
“The prodigal daughter returns at last,” Lady Em declared, raising her cup of coffee to cheer the ladies. “I am glad to see you. I trust all went well with Mr. da Silva.”
Maddy prayed a well-timed sip of coffee would mask the heat creeping into her cheeks or the threat of tears pricking behind her eyes.
“He didn’t return without a scratch, but it was only one,” she said, relaying the story of ruckus on the trip home. Even so, her assessment wasn’t entirely true. She’d clearly hurt him. But he would recover easily enough, wouldn’t he? Maddy sat for a moment, lost in her own thoughts, before the rattle of a nearby teacup drew her out of her woolgathering. She took measure of the ladies around the table who looked at her with unspoken curiosity.
“Your flowers are perfectly fine, by the way,” Rimple said, blessedly changing the subject. “We’ve managed the blight very well. Sylvie has been fussing over them so much we hardly missed you.”
Rimple’s comment, though it was no doubt kindly meant, startled Maddy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given even a passing thought to her blighted roses.
Whether it was the fatigue or the heart sickness or something completely different, Maddy was unable to school her features. A flush of heat ran into her face, probably turning it as red as ripening tomato. In response, Rimple put down her cup, and reached her arm across Maddy’s back and pulled her close.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean we didn’t miss you. Of course we did. I just didn’t want you to worry.”
Maddy turned and planted a light kiss on Rimple’s forehead. Her dearest friend could find the sunshine on the darkest day, and if she couldn’t find it, she’d go up into her little workshop and create it herself.
“No need to apologize,” she said. “I’m tired. Yesterday was a blur, and Beau is distraught from the news.”
As soon as she’d uttered his name, she took another swallow of coffee, if only to distract herself from the marked exchange of glances between Elouise and Phillipa, who carefully arched her brow.
Nothing good ever came from Phillipa arching her brow.
“I’m eager for the details,” Elouise said. “Dominic only gave us the smallest bits of information, and he won’t be home for a least another week.”
“I expect we’ll see it in the papers.” Tilda said. “It will be today’s headline.”
“Speaking of the papers,” Maddy said, eager to learn more of the business that had sent her on this journey, “has there been any retraction yet from Mrs. Turnbull?”
Maddy’s heart sank as she looked around the room, the answer to her question apparent without any of them yet to say a word.
“Why?” she pressed, anger creeping up the back of her neck. “We did the job as asked.”
