Mandy

“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.