Mandy by Claudy Conn Page A

to it. He will paint it black for Ned.”
    “Be quiet for a moment—let me think,” Skip returned as he paced.
    “You have to stop them from taking Ned! You have to!”
    “Mandy, there was nothing for it. He had to go in to Harrowgate,” Skip said walking away from her. “I must do something…and it can’t wait, so be seated and calm yourself.”
    “What? What are you doing?”
    “Writing your guardian,” Skip said as he sat at his desk.
    “That old thing? What can he do?” Mandy frowned.
    “Old?” the viscount returned with some surprise. The Duke of Margate was one of his closest cronies and scarcely a year older than himself. He had never thought of him as an old thing . “He isn’t old and he is a most powerful figure. He could do something—if I can bestir him to it.”
    “He hasn’t bothered with us in this entire year—why should he now?” Mandy chewed her bottom lip nervously.
    “Well, he is a bit of a rogue and didn’t think he needed to bother with you two as Ned was off to school and you aren’t a child, Mandy…and he said your aunt was in residence. But this changes everything. He won’t like the scandal either.”
    “Indeed, he sounds a most selfish creature.”
    “Aren’t we all at bottom,” Skippy remarked and waved her off with a flick of his wrist, “Now be quiet, girl and let me get to the letter. I have to word it just so.” He sighed, “I am very fond of him and won’t dispute that he is a notorious rake, but he wouldn’t like anyone falsely accused, especially when he is listed as the guardian.”
    Now it was Mandy’s turn to pace and she did so while the viscount scribbled, sealed his letter and hastily got to his feet and rang for his man, saying, “The duke will come and he will know the way out of this muddle, see if he don’t!”
    * * *
    The duke in question was unaware of the trouble his two ‘wards’ were presently suffering as he tooled his high stepping black gelding through the London hubbub with deft skill. A cart filled with vegetables had lost a wheel, spilling both owner and contents onto the road which caused havoc with the traffic.
    Curses born of frustration were being hurled at the hapless merchant farmer who shook his dirty fists at one and all and did what he could to repair his day.
    The duke felt for the man and his situation, but he had suffered a long hot ride from just outside of town and wanted to get his horse to its stables so the animal could be watered, fed and rested.
    Seeing the farmer’s predicament would take a long time to rectify, he stood about and contemplated his options. The traffic was quite impenetrable. And with a scan of his surroundings he saw he had but one choice left to him.
    There was nothing for it and with as much skill as determination, he urged his horse up the curbing, ignored the protests of pedestrians and circumvented the fuss in the street.
    A few moments later, having handed his favorite horse to his groom, he walked the short distance from his stables to his fashionable town house at the corner of Berkley Square.
    He brushed the dust and dirt from his exquisite riding coat just as his butler opened the door wide. The duke smiled, thinking his man must have been on the look out for him and momentarily wondered at it. He dropped his riding coat, hat and gloves into his man’s extended hands and greeted him warmly.
    “Hello Graves, hot enough for you?” he remarked as he started forward.
    “Indeed yes, Your Grace. I hope you did not find your ride too tiring,” answered the elderly retainer. “And I do apologize for coming at you as soon as you have arrived, but there is a note from the Viscount Skippendon marked urgent, that I thought you might wish to have immediately.”
    “Indeed!” the duke was surprised. Skip was not given to melodrama. He saw the note on silver salver on the wall table and took it up, slapped it across his hand and after thanking his man, retired with the epistle to his