Mandy (12 page)

“Indeed?” he said casting a superior glance over her. “You are much mistaken. You and your twins’ activities
are now
very much my affair,” he replied sardonically.

“As to that, we did not ask you to come here and we don’t need you, Your Grace,” she snapped. “Or should I address you as Uncle Brock? Really, how does one address a guardian, especially a guardian
one has kissed?”
Had she actually said that? She heard the words reverberate in her head. She said that. How did she say that?

Apparently the notion of his being addressed as ‘Uncle Brock’ by a woman he had kissed, left him momentarily non-pulsed, but he eyed her, his temper now in full bloom, as he made a recovery and drew himself up to his six foot something. His voice when it came was a shout, “Certainly not! Uncle Brock? I have the good fortune
not
to claim blood ties between us. However, I am most certainly your legal guardian, my dear, and have every right to know where you have been and what you have been doing, unless of course what you have just done shames you?”

“I…I went for a walk,” she answered not looking into his eyes. It was what she did. No lie there.

“Were you not afraid you might be seen?” he asked quietly.

“I was careful,” she answered feeling like a devil.

“Were you?”

“No one followed me here,” she answered.

“You mean to play semantics with me, child. Tell me, what of the friendly fellow in the woods, whom I recognized as Sir Owen. What of him?”

Faith
, she thought desperately. He had seen her with Sir Owen. What would he think? What did she care what he thought? How dare he spy on her or think she was carrying on with Sir Owen, for it was what he thought—she could see it on his face.

“The manner in which I spend my time is my own affair,” she said staring directly into his eyes, her hands now on her hips.

“Do you think so?” he glared back at her. “Do you think so, indeed? May I remind you that you will not leave the circumference of my protection, and therefore, my family name for at least another month. Therefore, you will conduct yourself in a manner
I deem
fit for your station in life.”

Mandy’s mouth opened and stayed that way while she tried to find the words with which to slap him. “And what of
your
conduct, Your Grace? Or does kissing your ward, no matter how unsatisfactory you may have found it, not count in your book of ethics?”

He frowned as though puzzled by something she had just said and his reply was tempered, “I do apologize. That unfortunate incident will not be repeated.”

She seethed from his words. Unfortunate incident? Unfortunate? She wanted to haul off and hit him, but instead she stood as regally as she knew how and said, “Really? I am so glad to hear it.” She then snapped her fingers in the air and told him, “In the meantime, you may go to the devil.” With that, she turned sharply and started to walk off, when she found his grip on her forearm and she turned to stare at his hand and then at his face, one brow going up.

He released her immediately and she could see he was spitting fire as he said, “Take heed, m’girl. You are not speaking to your groom, or your brother. Apparently your grandfather doted on you and spoiled you to the point where you lack all good manners. Your rudeness needs curbing miss, and it may yet not be too late. I am most willing to administer the spanking you so richly have been begging to receive.” His eyes were made of blue glitter.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she hissed.

When he finally answered this challenge his voice was low, hoarse, and controlled as he said, “You think not?”

She hauled off and tried to smack him across his cheek. He had her hand and held it, keeping her from her purpose.

She yanked her hand out of his hold, “Is
that
who you are? Do you manhandle females when they displease you? I have heard of such men
. Despicable
!”

He groaned with pure frustration and ran a hand through his uncovered black hair, “If you think that of me, I wonder that you would drive me to it.”

The sound of horses made them both stiffen and look away from each other. He said on a low note, “Hurry…
into the stable.”

It was the closest building out of view, so she complied without demur, as he followed with his horse. A few moments later they were both relieved to hear her brother’s voice, which brought them outdoors once more.

“Ned!” Mandy said flinging herself at him. She felt like a sailor sighting land in a storm. “
Oh Ned.”

He grinned, “Missed me, eh?”

“No, you are a horrid boy, going off without me.”

Chauncey took Ned’s reins, patted Mandy on the shoulder and reminded her, “Now there, Missy. Ye didn’t have a horse, did ye?”

“Hullo, duke,” Ned said turning to put out a hand to the duke.

“Where did you go off to?” the duke asked.

“Went to Teeside,” he announced happily.

“Yes, but why?” Mandy asked peevishly.

“That I suppose, was my fault,” answered the duke pulling a face and sighing heavily.

“Your fault? How?” she rounded on the duke and was stunned that although she had been furious with him, she could so soon be taken by his handsome face, his bright blue eyes, his every movement. Ah, but she was a stoopid girl.

“It seemed to me, someone like Elly Bonner might have friends or family in such a village, as one of the viscount’s servants mentioned that she rather thought Elly Bonner came from Teeside.”

“So you sent them into danger, where they might be recognized?” Mandy accused, still unable to let go her irritation with him.

“Take a damper, Mandy girl,” her brother shot at her and pulled a face. “Whatever is wrong with you? Must find her, you know that.”

“Yes, but if someone saw you…”

“Look at him, Miss Sherborne,” the duke stuck in. “Was anyone likely to recognize him with a mustache and his hair blackened with soot?”

Mandy heard the formal use of her name with a sinking heart. He appeared to be just as angry with her as she was with him. But why?

She glanced at her brother and suddenly realized he was in disguise and all the tension was released as she burst out laughing and then reached for the mustache on his face and pulled.

He yelped, “Are you daft, girl…
that hurt
!” he returned but he was as usual grinning.

“Oh…oh, my Ned…you looked so funny. Don’t ever grow one of those, and it is a dark mustache…it doesn’t match your blond hair!” This made her peel off laughing once more.

“Are ye two finished with yer prattle and giggles?” Chauncey asked on a long and weary sigh. “Because if ye are, mayhap we can tell the duke what Ned and I have discovered.”

All eyes turned to Chauncey while Ned rubbed the red raw spot the mustache pulling had left over his upper lip.

“As it happens, we owe the duke a measure of gratitude, we do, coz if we hadn’t piked over to Teeside, we wouldn’t a learnt about Hawkins!”

Mandy and the duke said as one voice, “Hawkins?” And Mandy added, “Who the deuce is Hawkins?”

“If you would but be quiet missy, I will tell ye,” Chauncey said eyeing her dampeningly.

Mandy sat on a large flat rock and folded her arms across her middle. She was surrounded by men who were as far as she was concerned, lording it over her. Her question was reasonable. What was wrong with her question?

“As you were saying,” encouraged the duke. “You discovered something about Hawkins?”

“Aye, and a thousand pities we couldn’t a stayed a mite longer and prigged this ‘ere Hawkins’ direction, Yer Grace. But had this need to shake our shambles out of the Red Hart Inn…real sudden-like.”

“Something in the Red Hart make you fidgety?” the duke encouraged, one brow arched.

Ned laughed out loud and slapped Chauncey on the back. “Lord, no, duke, don’t let Chauncey bamboozle you. He enjoyed every minute of it
. Certes…”
he turned to his sister, “Mandy, wait till you hear.”

“Oh, am I allowed in all this male togetherness, then?” she asked still miffed with them.

He ignored her and said, “We hobnobbed with a redbreast,” Ned declared, grinning broadly.
“A Bow Street Runner
…from London…a runner, Mandy!”

Mandy was not amused. “What?” she shrieked.

“Famous good sport,” added her brother, lest she think he had not enjoyed the encounter.

“Oh no, Neddy, no, but how? Why?” Mandy asked her face and tone full with dismay.

“Indeed, I should like to know that as well,” stuck in the duke solemnly. “But first, shall we return to the beginning. You were about to inform us, who Hawkins may be and what he has to do with Elly Bonner.”

“
But a runner?
Your Grace…they were stopped by a runner!” Mandy stuck in much disturbed by this.

“No, if you had but listened more closely, you would have heard that they had a conversation with the illustrious fellow. I am quite certain we shall hear all about it in good time, but for now, we shall forego this particular treat and return to the issue at hand
—Hawkins
if you please.” He eyed both Chauncey and Ned alike.

“Right then, Hawkins,” Ned grinned unabashedly. “As to that, I’m not sure why Chauncey is so dashed pleased about…”

Chauncey gave Ned a scathing look and was about to follow this up with (no one doubted) a scathing remark, but the duke hastily stuck in, “Nevertheless, young man, you will do me the honor of imparting your information to me and then I’ll be the judge as to its value.”

Mandy couldn’t help but smile to see her brother blush, but as she turned she found herself locked in a gaze with the duke.

Once again, she was struck by the depth of expression and intelligence in his deep blues. She couldn’t look away as she tried to fathom his thoughts and couldn’t.

“Yes, gamine?” he said softly. “Is there something you needed to ask me?”

“
Me
? Ask? No…not at all,” she returned feeling as hot as Ned had looked a moment ago.

“Right, so off we went to find this friend of Chauncey’s at the Red Hart. Turns out that although he doesn’t know Elly, he knows this Hawkins fellow, but he doesn’t know where Hawkins is precisely,” Ned said on a heavy sigh.

Impatiently, the duke dismissed Ned and turned to Chauncey, “Perhaps my man, you may be able to tell me
who the devil Hawkins is!”

“Aye, that I can and be glad to do it,” returned Chauncey gruffly. He brushed his hands free of the crumbs of bread left from the last piece he had just devoured and said, “He be Elly Bonner’s man!”

Mandy’s hand went to her mouth. A sudden sure hope filled her. This was more than they had hitherto been able to find out. A sure dawning lit in her brain. This was due to the fact that it was the duke who had helped them by sending them off to Teeside. This was such wondrous news that she clapped her hands together and said, “This is such brilliant good news.”

The duke eyed her quietly for a moment and feeling his gaze resting on her she looked at him inquiringly. “Isn’t it good news?”

Ned stuck in sourly at that moment, “Don’t see that. What is good about it? Useless if you ask me. Now there are two of them missing that we can’t find.”

The duke held up his hand, at that and said, “Perhaps not as useless as you think, Ned. What we need now is a description of this Hawkins fellow and his habits, his haunts. He may be keeping Elly Bonner hidden, but I’ll wager he is walking about freely, thinking no one is looking for him.”

“Have it he is a big covey,” stuck in Chauncey. “A sight larger than me, square-set, thick-jawed and mean. A vulgar make bait by all accounts and wot’s more, ‘tis said he don’t pound deal.”

Mandy leaned in toward her brother and whispered, “Pound-deal?”

“Honest work, sis,” her brother supplied with a grin, evidently pleased to have one up on her.

“Thought so, just wanted to be sure,” she said and returned her attention to the duke’s face. He looked so very serious.

“Also,” put in Chauncey pulling at his lower lip, “I wasn’t outright told, but had the notion that this Hawkins covey rides the high toby a bit.”

“And does he frequent the Red Hart?” the duke asked.

“Aye, but he hasn’t been seen there in a few weeks.”

“And what about Elly?” Mandy stuck in. “Were you able to learn anything about her whereabouts?”

“More’s the pity, missy. Not a word on the chit,” Chauncey replied sighing sadly. “M’friend says he always thought her a prime mort, not up to the bobbery of ‘er covey, this Hawkins bloke. But there, no telling wot fetch a mort will take in her noddle when her heart be in it,” Chauncey pronounced.

“And what about this Bow Street Runner?” Mandy asked casting an accusing eye at the duke. She wasn’t being fair, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to control her wild and fluctuating emotions where he was concerned, and it was his fault, putting on such a superior air as though he were the only one who knew anything about everything.

“Yes,” the duke said softly, a smile curving his lips as she scowled at him. “I too would like to hear about your encounter with the runner.”