Gypsy Lady by Shirlee Busbee

door as soon as it is decently possible tomorrow morning. I wish
you joy of them."
    Jason grinned. "At
least this time we won't be letting a monkey loose at the headmaster's farewell
dinner."
    The duke shuddered.
"Please do not remind me. How could you have done such a thing? No, don't
tell me. Let that memory die peacefully along with several more that I would
prefer to forget. Good night, Jason, I shall see you in the morning."
    As his uncle had
anticipated, Barrymore and Harris arrived promptly at ten o'clock in the
morning requesting to see Jason. Jason had already spent a busy few hours,
making arrangements with his uncle's very efficient head groom for the
temporary stabling and care of the horses he intended to buy and ship to New
Orleans, as well as writing a note to be hand delivered within the hour to
Rufus King, the American minister in England requesting to see him at the
earliest possible moment. So he was quite ready to relax and enjoy himself. And
nowhere could he have found two companions more eager and willing to assist him
in this endeavor.
    Frederick Barrymore, heir
to a barony, was almost as tall as Jason but built on deceptively willowy
lines, with blond wavy hair and bright blue eyes. Possessing an exuberant
personality, he was like a happy, restless butterfly. Tom Harris, with sad brown
eyes and the freckles that usually went with hair as carrot
red as that which grew in abundance on his round head, was on the short
side and inclined toward plumpness. Harris was quiet, amiably slow-witted, and
followed happily wherever the volatile Barrymore led.
    It was Barrymore, his blue
eyes lighting with pleasure as he shook Jason's outthrust hand who
enthusiastically cried, "By God, Savage, it is good to see you again! And
except for that brief trip of yours here a few years back, it must be almost
ten years since our harum scarum days at Harrow."
    Grinning, Jason
acknowledged that time did indeed have a way of slipping past one unnoticed.
    Harrison, less articulate
than the restless Barrymore, merely beamed. Clasping Jason's hand he said
simply, "Pleasure!"
    The three spent an
enjoyable few hours in Jason's room at his uncle's house renewing their
friendship and reminiscing. And when Jason disclosed that he was in England to
buy horses, Barrymore and Harris instantly demanded the privilege of escorting
him to Tattersalls, renowned for its horse sales. And of course, when business
was behind him, well then. . . .
    Relaxing and smiling
ruefully to himself, Jason listened as his friends cheerfully filled every
moment of the duration of his stay. Feeling they were getting too far away
from his objective of buying horses, he skillfully brought the conversation
from the charms to be seen of certain opera dancers at the theaters near Covent
Garden back to Tattersalls.
    Although Jason had arrived
too late for the early January sales in which the best of the yearling
thoroughbreds had been sold, he was not dismayed. He was after breeding stock,
not racing animals. And as he intended to remain in England some four or five
months, he was certain he would be able to find horses that would satisfy him.
    Barrymore and Harris both
bemoaned the fact that he had not arrived earlier, but then dismissed it.
Feeling that enough time had been spent on business, Barrymore asked,
"Will you accompany us this afternoon to a cockfight at Bartholomew Fair?
There's a splendid red crossbreed that I predict will win every match. Come
with us. You will enjoy seeing the creature in action."
    With his note to Rufus King
in mind, Jason demurred, much to Barrymore's disgust.
    "Oh, come now, Jason,
don't fob us off with such a sorry excuse as you've just arrived! I know you
haven't seen your uncle in some time, but you're staying with him, ain't you?
He'll see enough of you before you leave to become sick of the sight of your
face."
    Jason smiled and remarked,
"True, mon ami, but I do not intend to remain under my uncle's
roof for my entire stay. I