Mandy

by Claudy Conn

  “You are out there. Mandy welcomes my suit.” Sir Owen’s eyes narrowed. “You speak as though you know her.”

  “Do I? Perhaps because I have learned so much about her from Skip,” the duke circumvented his slip. Owen was asking to die and he would be very happy to accommodate him, but he maintained his composure and asked, “What makes you think she would welcome your suit—and how could you court the lady whilst she is in hiding?”

  “Only this morning, I discussed our future with her, as we have met by plan,” Owen returned unaware that his life was presently on the line.

  The man used half truths to his advantage, the duke thought. He needed to know more. “Are you saying you met with Miss Sherborne by design and that you know where she is?”

  “Well, not exactly…” Owen hemmed. “But yes, I met with her. She knows I am trying to help her find Elly Bonner…did she not tell you?”

  The duke was wildly furious on two counts. One, that Mandy had not, in fact, told him that she met with Owen again, and two, that she looked to Owen for help. He answered as calmly as he could, “How could she tell me, when she is in hiding with her brother?” He saw at once that Owen had been fishing.

  “So then, they have not managed to get word to you or the viscount about their whereabouts?”

  “Foolish to think so!” the duke could not help but snap. “Why would they?”

  “I thought they might have heard you were nearby and looking to help,” answered Sir Owen quietly.

  “Apparently, Sir Owen, your line of thinking is in disarray,” the duke said on a threatening note.

  They had reached a narrow turn-off in the road and he smiled to say, “This is where I leave you, Margate.”

  The duke nodded a dismissal and made plans for the future. The man needed planting in the ground and as soon as he was free to do so, that was what he intended to do. But, the question remained, why hadn’t Mandy told him that she had met with Owen again?

  What was her true relationship with Sir Owen?

  Instead of turning off for Wharfdale Manor, he continued down the road toward the shortcut to Abbey Ruins. He was going to find out for himself, just what the bloody hell was going on!

  * * *

  Mandy was restless.

  Both Ned and Chauncey had dozed after consuming what she had thought to be an inordinate amount of wine.

  The summer night was too lovely to ignore and she made her way outdoors and stood staring up at the full moon and the dark velvet sky alight with stars. Sighing and thinking of the duke, she strode a few yards away from the Abbey and sank down onto the dry weeds and stared through the dim light. It couldn’t be…how could it be? Was that him…was that the duke?

  He sat his horse for a moment and looked like an ancient warrior, with purpose and determination and her heartbeat increased rapidly.

  She had no way of knowing that he was in a temper, until she saw the way he jumped off his horse, locked his reins into his stirrups, and strode toward her.

  She could almost feel his fury as he stomped hard and fast and then he was pulling her off the ground and into his arms. He crushed her in his embrace and his kiss started out wild and relentless as it took and gave and she responded willingly.

  Suddenly he shoved her away though he retained a hold of her shoulders as he glared at her, “Do you kiss him like that?” he growled.

  “What? Who? What are you talking about?”

  “What have you done? Trusting someone like that with your whereabouts!”

  She could see he was enraged, but how dare he? Her own temper came forward and she snapped, “Have you lost your mind? How dare you speak to me in such a fashion!”

  “How dare I? That is rich,” he ran his hands through his hair as his hat had fallen to the ground unheeded. “You behave with thoughtless recklessness and ask how dare I?”

  “Thoughtless recklessness?” she returned with a puzzled frown. “Do you mean because I am walking about here in the dark? I don’t understand? ‘Tis but a small amount of freedom…am I not allowed some?”

  “It would appear that you take it whether it is permitted or not. And walking so far away from the abbey, at night…when you don’t know who might be snooping about is the outside of foolishness.”

  She could not think what had come over him. Plain speaking was needed and so she demanded, “It appears we are at odds here. What is wrong? Why are you in a rage? Surely not because I am out here alone at night?”

  “That, my wide-eyed gamine is nothing when compared to your duplicity,” he sneered at her. “But come, since you give it away so freely…let’s have another kiss, shall we?”

  Kissing him, being in his arms had been all she had been dreaming about after they had been together. This, however, was not how she wanted to be kissed. Not in anger. She punched his chest and cried out, “Oh! You blackguard. How dare you speak to me like that!”

  “And how dare you meet with Sir Owen!” he retorted and then suddenly with an oath and a movement born of fury, he turned on his heel, strode back to his horse, took up the reins, jumped nimbly back into his saddle and rode off.

  Mandy was momentarily stunned.

  What the deuce was all that about?

  And then sudden dawning—her duke had been jealous and this as nothing else, made her smile from the heart. He cared, oh, but he cared.

  His behavior had been both awful and wonderful all at once. He was jealous and quite insanely jealous at that.

  Following on this thought however, was the realization that he had thought the worst of her. That, she could not allow. It wasn’t fair. So little seemed fair these days.

  She would have to put him in the right of it, when next they met. Oh, indeed, she would do so and teach him a lesson or two about trust.

  Chapter Twelve

  FOR A FEW moments His Grace of Margate rode blindly, allowing his horse to pick his way home. He had suddenly lost the ability to draw on his usual calm and logical self.

  “Hell and damnation”, he cursed out loud. “This is not like me.”

  Mandy had him fairly winded. There was nothing for it but to admit to himself that he was completely and totally and forever in love with the sprite of a woman. She was wild to a fault. She was impulsive and heady. She was her own woman and proud of it. No missy airs for his gamine, oh no. He could see her leading a charge, taking on the established rules and identifying their faults. That was his Mandy and by God, he loved her.

  He had been in a fury of jealousy and he knew it. He had wanted to shake her, kiss her, and shake her again for what Sir Owen had implied, because of the picture Owen had left in his mind.

  He now saw as he brought his temper in that he had behaved like a cad. He had been doing nothing but behaving like a cad.

  He had broken his rule and made love to an innocent, something he had sworn never to do. Intolerable because he was also her guardian.

  But, this was different—different because when his guardianship was done, he was going to marry Mandy of Sherborne and give her the world. She loved him—she had to love him because if she didn’t, he believed he would be shattered. Look at him, at the mercy of a babe in arms. The notion made him grin.

  He could taste her honeyed lips still. He could feel the darts of lightning anger that lit up her dark eyes when he had raged at her, and now riding alone, thinking about her, all he could do was grin like an idiot.

  She was full of spit and fire, heart and generosity, loyalty and devotion and she had stolen his heart with a blink. She had usurped his soul and by all that was, he meant to keep her safe and make her his. But how, if she was forever gadding about and meeting scoundrels like Sir Owen?

  He wasn’t a fool and believed that Sir Owen had forced her to meet with him on the promise that he would help her brother. And still, the first time, when he had seen them together, when Owen himself had said they met quite by accident, he had seen the man take her into his arms.

  He hadn’t stayed long enough to s
ee if she resisted. “Bah!” he uttered disgusted with the memory. He had left her when he should have demanded Mandy tell him the whole. Instead, he had turned sharply, much like a schoolboy and hurried away.

  It didn’t take him long to get to Wharfdale Manor, hand his horse off and make his way to the library where he found Skip standing by the fireplace. Skip turned and their gazes met. The duke had the odd feeling again, that something was off with his friend. Just what was wrong with him?

  “Well, Brock,” Skip said as he gave him a rueful smile. “Back are you? Where the deuce have you been?”

  “Where have I been?” the duke returned, one brow arched. “You are a wonder, ‘ole man. You have contrived to be gone from your house more hours than you have spent in it and you want to know where I have been. Damnation man, but that is doing it too brown.”

  As an answer to this, the viscount grinned boyishly and then sighed to say, “I’ve been with m’solicitors today. Had a bit…well, never mind that. Tell me what’s toward. When you first walked in here, I thought you had the devil in your eye. I’d swear to it, so no use trying to bamboozle me.”

  “Ha! It would serve you if I gave what I’ve been getting, but no, I’m a better friend than that!” the duke said eyeing his friend pointedly. He dropped down on the sofa and sighed before continuing, “You know that you deserve to be kept in the dark; however, I shall tell you that I have met both my wards almost immediately after I arrived here.”

  “What?” the viscount almost jumped as he went toward the duke. “Where? How?”

  “I was, in fact, held up by them on the main pike and nearly blew a hole through Mandy’s exquisite head.”

  The viscount sat heavily, his mouth agape as he breathed out and said, “Upon my soul.”

  “I could have shot the little gamine,” the duke repeated with a frown as the thought struck and terrified him as nothing else ever had in his life. “They thought of course that I was you. They were totally confounded when I stepped out of your carriage. Mandy was clothed as a lad and if I hadn’t thought him—her, too ageless a youth to die…well, it doesn’t bear thinking upon.” Again, a hand gripped his heart and thanked the heavens he had not hurt her.

  “But…but…” the viscount tried to put it into words and then exclaimed, “but…how…I mean…how could you…anyone mistake her for a lad?”

  “She was dressed like one, scarf up over her face, body hidden by clothing and one usually sees what one expects. I saw a youth…never expecting a female. I did not find out that she was a woman until a few moments after we struggled together,” the duke returned with a shake of his head.

  “Shocking…I mean…shocking,” the viscount was at a loss as he obviously tried to wrap his mind around the information.

  “Precisely what I was brought home to realize. This past year—Mandy left here in the wilds of Yorkshire when any fool could see she is a beauty that would have taken the haute ton by storm. Why did you not write me and tell me Mandy needed a season…a life…? She has been left to her own devices too long. She is loyal to a fault…and has sacrificed herself for her twin and her twin is as innocent of this crime as I am. I must set things to right at once. There is no time to be wasted, but we have a mess on our hands.”

  “I did write you, but you chose to ignore the situation.” Skip waved this off, “But, how have you allowed this to go forward for so long without even a word to me?” the viscount demanded.

  “You my friend have been quite absent,” the duke returned bluntly.

  “Yes, but there were reasons…never mind that now, finish the tale, you dog!”

  “You have the gist of it. What more do you want?”

  “You can’t leave it at that? You call her Mandy…you speak as though you know them well…how…where are they?”

  “I call her Mandy at her request and I do know them well. We have been in each other’s pockets so to speak from the moment I was accosted by them on the road. Strip the trappings of society away from people and you discover who they are and these two and their Chauncey are worth all the haute ton put together!”

  The viscount eyed his friend and said, “You are taken with them…or is it Mandy you are taken with?”

  The duke’s lips curved, “Inquisitive, aren’t you? And yet, private suddenly about your own doings?” He frowned and asked, “Tell me, Skip, does Mandy have a tendre for Sir Owen?”

  Skip snorted, “Mandy ain’t a fool for all her hoyden ways. Sir Owen may be casting out lures, but I’d as life think she would drown before reaching out for one of ‘em.”

  “Do you think that because you don’t like the fellow or because you have reason to think that?” the duke pursued.

  “Has nothing to do with me. Told you Brock, she is no fool. Green, yes, how could she be otherwise stuck up here in the wilds, dreaming about a knight in shining armor riding in on a white horse to scoop her up and take her away,” the viscount shook his head. “Aye, an innocent, not quite up to snuff, but her head is squarely upon her shoulders, and she sees Owen for what he is. Lord, she knows the difference between an engaging rascal like yourself, I’d wager and a park-sauntering gamester which is what he is.”

  “And how would Mandy define you?” the duke asked pointedly.

  “A right’un,” the viscount said with a wide grin. “And well you know it!”

  “Right, so now that we have that out of the way, what is toward, Skip, and don’t pitch any gammon at me about headaches and business,” the duke said on a quietly grave note.

  The viscount’s smile vanished. “You don’t want a round tale, so then, don’t be asking me any questions. Brock, you are my closest and my most valued friend…” he sighed heavily as the duke inclined his head but smirked and he snapped, “Well, you are. But, what you can do for me this time…well…you can’t…and it ain’t something I can tell you. Leave it at that, Brock.”

  It was obvious to the duke that his friend was in earnest. He was dissatisfied but willing to accommodate him for a bit longer, so he allowed the matter to drop. “Very well, Skip. Oh, by the way, there is a runner in town. Calls himself Fowler. I offered to sell him some of your land—the section bordering part of the Wharfe River.”

  “You what?” the viscount jumped to his feet.

  The duke laughed and bade him be seated, “Don’t worry; he isn’t interested in your land. Seems to be looking for something else.”

  “He didn’t want it?” the viscount sounded insulted.

  The duke was grinning wide, “Yes, lucky for me for that might have given my purpose away.”

  “What the devil are you at this time? Why would you bandy about with a runner? What the bloody hell is going on?”

  The duke laughed and slapped the viscount’s bent knee, “Trying to find the true nature of this runner’s game and I’d swear it has naught to do with the Sherbornes.”

  “Ah, nosing him out. Well if he isn’t here for Ned…what then?”

  “There is the crook of it.” The duke shook his head. “A man from Barings came in and interrupted us…” he stopped suddenly. “Hell and Fire! I know what it is that has been nagging at me. Of course!” he got to his feet and started across the room.

  “Devil a bit! Where do you think you are going?”

  “To bed, m’man. Have a big day ahead and a few things that need doing.”

  Skip stood up as well, “Well, I will tell you that this is all too smoky by half. Bow Street Runner wanting to buy my land? Well, won’t sell it. Crazy fellow, Brock, you would do well to remember not to get involved with a Bow Street Runner…no good can come of it.”

  * * *

  The entire day had dragged on without a word from the duke. She had gone off with Ned and Chauncey to meet their stableboy who had met them at a designated spot. There they took a wagon load of grain and hay for their horses from him, promising to return the wagon in the evening.

  Mandy helped them unload the horse supplies which served to occupy both her time and her
mind for a spell.

  In the evening they allowed her to ride with them, their horses in tow when they returned the wagon.

  Thank goodness the Sherborne staff was loyal.

  Evening darkness arrived and Mandy gave up hope. He wasn’t coming.

  She had so much to say to him, so of course, he had stayed away.

  He had left her in such a flurry of emotions the night before, and she wanted, needed to see him.

  She and Chauncey had set a table up for dinner and she found herself blurting out, “I have to tell you both something right now.”

  “Aye then, go ahead,” Ned encouraged as he swallowed his food.

  “I met with Sir Owen the other day.”

  He turned on her, his expression one of total shock, “What? Good Lord, Mandy girl, are you daft? However came that about?”

  “If you are going to take on so…”Mandy took affront as her nerves were on edge. “I won’t tell you what Sir Owen was decent enough to tell me.” She gave him a challenging look and waited.

  Chauncey put up a hand to stall an argument between the twins and said somberly, “Listen here. I ain’t about to bicker with ye, missy,” he picked his teeth with a thin splint of wood and then gave her a broad smile. “I can see something is fretting ye and ye be looking for a fight. Don’t. We got enough on our plates.”

  “I shall gladly tell you everything,” she said to Chauncey and had to stop herself from sticking her tongue out at her brother. Old habits had a way of creeping in when she was upset. She returned her attention to Chauncey and said, “Perhaps he should leave the room.”

  “What the deuce? Why? What did I do?” Ned exclaimed.

  “Very well,” she said, “You may stay if you don’t nip at me.” She gave him a hard look and satisfied that he only frowned but offered no retort, she proceeded. “Sir Owen was kind enough to offer his help…when I met him by accident a few days ago. I accepted. I took precautions, climbed a tree in fact, until I was certain he had not followed me and returned here. I met him again in the hopes that he might have more information for us. That is the long and the short of it.” She turned a smug look at her brother, “You should be grateful.”