n Skippy’s preserve. Poachers? No—too odd an hour for poachers.
She picked through the evergreen bush and peered through the hidden light of the moon. She could not see anyone, but she heard most clearly.
“My dearest, this cannot continue. I won’t have you riding out in the midst of the night, alone just for a few stolen moments…” It was a desperate male voice, and it was well known to Mandy, for it belonged to the Viscount Skippendon.
A soft, sweet-sounding female voice answered in a loving tone and Mandy heard an accent there—Irish?
“But they are precious moments, m’darling’. Don’t take on so…’tis only a wee bit more we shall have to deal with. Soon we will be able to…”
Skip then annoyed Mandy because he cut her off and did not allow Mandy to learn what they soon would be able to do.
“No. My only love, it must stop, now. That is, unless you feel we can…” he said and Mandy thought he sounded miserable.
“M’own sweet John. Darlin’ ye will not deny me our time together. ‘Tis yer right to claim so much more, but I canna give it yet…though ‘tis m’wish to do so.”
“But why? This is torture, Kathleen…”
Now she cut him off, “But ye know why, have always known, though ye never really understood. I know that. Whist there, darlin’, never mind.”
As silence ensued, Mandy imagined that they were no doubt locked in an embrace. What was she doing spying on Skip?
All she wanted then was to hurry off. As quietly as she could, she picked her way out of the brush and took her horse in hand as she mounted and hurriedly urged him away from the scene.
Why was Skippy meeting this woman clandestinely? What the deuce was going on here? The woman was unknown to her, but she was sure she was gentry. Right, so why would she be sneaking off to meet the viscount? He was a nobleman, he was rich, and he was a gentleman in every imaginable way…so this did not make sense.
Sir Owen had said that Skip was seeing someone and had not wanted her to know about his relationship with Celia. So here it was the truth of the matter…?
Sir Owen had said Skip could be the father of Celia’s unborn child. No…that wasn’t like Skip at all. She refused to think this.
What to do? What to do?
With her jumbled thoughts scurrying about in her head, she scarcely looked where she was going. She neither saw nor heard the figure on horseback coming directly at her.
Chapter Thirteen
THE DUKE’S HORSE had not looked particularly pleased to see him, as he had been comfortably munching on his hay. The duke laughed and said, “No ‘ole boy, I shan’t bother you again. He’d had a busy day and there was one thing left for him to do. He told his tired steed, “I’ll take Skip’s horse now, how is that?”
A few moments later and without disturbing the groom who was in his quarters settled in with dinner, he tacked Skips’ favorite gelding, mounted and made his way down the drive to the main pike.
Ten minutes took him to the edge of the village and another five saw him handing over his steed to the livery boy of the Cock Pit.
The tavern was now inundated with gentlemen bent on having an exceptional time, and he strode through the hearty bunch, doffed his hat to a buxom wench who gave him a wink and asked her, “Can you direct me to Fowler’s room?”
“Aye, that I can, sir—unless you have a change of ‘eart and want to join me in m’own back room?”
He grinned boyishly and said lightly, “Perhaps another time, pretty lady, but for now, Fowler if you please.”
She sighed, “Aye, first room at the top of the stairs.”
He took hold of the wooden railing and managed the steps two at a time, until he reached the landing and Mr. Fowler’s door, where he knocked.
“’Tis open. Come in if ye have a mind,” said the voice on the other side.
The duke opened the door wide and inclined his uncovered head for his hat was dangling from his fingers. “Mr. Fowler, I wonder if I might intrude on you.”
“Aye, Yer Grace. Back are ye? Well, come in and be seated and tell me what it is ye have on yer mind, for I’d wager it isn’t selling yer friend’s land,” said Fowler knowingly.
The duke took up a wooden chair and sat. “Right then, I believe in playing with a full deck, sir, so I shall come right to the point. You are not on holiday and you are not looking to buy some land,” the duke said, one brow arched.