Page 3 of Good Duke Gone Far

“Scatter witted?”

“Yes!”

“Chuckleheaded?”

“Exactly! The woman has lost her God-given mind.”

“I wouldn’t tell her that, sir.”

“Like hell I would. Who knows what she would do to me.”

“Quite right, sir.”

“This trip will be the death of me.”

“You’ve survived worse, I’m sure.”

“Bosh. I don’t doubt it, but at this moment hell and gunfire don’t even compare to the idea of traipsing across the country to protect that mad, mouthy woman on a mission to confront some duke in Scotland. What the blazes is she thinking?”

“She’s not?” Darby suggested.

“That’s right. And now I have to run off and save her. If only Reggie–” Quinn cut himself off, mumbling, “Nevermind. He has his own business to worry about.”

“If I may sir, I have packed some additional blunt in the bottom of a pair of boots, as well as a few discreet weapons. Precautionary measures.”

“Against Kat?”

Darby raised his eyebrows, whether at the informal usage of her Christian name or the fact that Quinn was really and truly not thinking straight, no one knew.

Darby cleared his throat. “For the road, sir. Highwaymen, or otherwise.”

Quinn slicked his dark wavy hair back to gather at the back of his head. Normally he kept it cropped short, but recently he had let it grow out. “I guess there’s no time for a cut or a shave today. Time is of the essence.” Quinn stomped over to a drawer and threw a comb into his bag. “Bah!”

Darby flew a foot in the air at the angry outburst.

“I need to calm my mind. The woman already has me in an upheaval, and she must be miles away.” For at least the eighty-ninth time that morning, Quinn recalled the missive Reggie had sent him. It was to be delivered to his hands only. Upon opening it, Quinn understood Reggie’s reasoning. What he didn’t understand was his own reasoning. He could hardly hold one thought in his head, nevermind a list of what needed to be packed.

“What else do I need for this journey?” He turned to his valet. “If you think I need it, just pack it.” It should be a short trip, so he neglected to put any toiletries in his bag. Leaving behind his rosemary and citrus cologne was a conscious choice, albeit difficult.

“Shall I accompany you?”

“You’ve already asked. Twice. I’ll be faster without you. I’m going to race after her, talk some sense into her, and then bring her back to her sister. And not necessarily in that order.”

“Yes, sir. If anyone can do it, you can.”

“I guess that’s why Reggie asked me to do it.” Quinn assumed another grumble or two ought to put him to rights, alas they did not.

“I’m off, Darby. I need you here. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, sir.”

A coat was draped over his arm, and bags were held out to him as Quinn marched downstairs.

He flung open the front door, and instead of being greeted by the warm sunshine of a summer day, he was greeted by a burly mustached face and a raised fist. To the door, that is.

“Was just about to knock, sir,” a man in all black said.

“I can see that. I was just leaving.”

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