Mandy

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.