Page 42 of Beneath the Devil’s Mask (The Hidden Hearts Collection #4)

“A drunken whim, I suppose.” He snapped the locket closed. “If you are worried that it is another attempt to get you in my debt, don’t be. I don’t expect any repayment.”

“I did not think that you did.”

She thought she saw a flash of gratitude in his eyes.

He tucked the locket back inside the lace collar of her gown allowing it to slip beneath her bodice.

As he did so, his fingers brushed against the column of her throat, lingering.

She waited breathlessly for what he might do next, but he allowed his hand to drop away, his thick lashes drifting down, hooding his expression.

“You look exhausted,” he said. “I recall enough to know that you took the time to bandage my hand. I hope you did not feel obliged to hover over me while I raved my way through some drunken delirium?”

The question sounded casual, but she was aware how intently he studied her from beneath his lowered lids.

She understood what he was seeking to discover.

Mandell had suffered enough humiliation from this episode.

She had best take care with her answer or she knew with certainty she would never see him again.

She knew with even more astonishing certainty she did not want that to happen.

“I did stay long enough to bandage your hand,” she hedged. “But when I left you, you were sleeping like the dead.” She had never been good at lying, and she was not certain Mandell would be put off by this half-truth.

But he appeared satisfied, if not relieved. “When I first arrived here, was I alone?” he inquired.

”Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

“No particular reason.” Mandell frowned. “Only that somehow I managed to misplace Sir Lancelot Briggs. No easy feat, I assure you. I daresay he will turn up again. He always does.”

Reaching for her hand, he bowed over it and made one final attempt to apologize for his conduct.

Anne realized he was preparing to take his leave.

Why should that dismay her so? Surely everything that needed saying had been said.

What more was she waiting, hoping for? She didn’t know, but she found herself attempting to delay him.

“Your bandage looks a little soiled,” she remarked. “Perhaps you should allow me to redo it with clean linen.”

“No, thank you. My hand feels much better. I can probably dispense with the bandage altogether.” As he undid the wrapping, his knuckles still looked raw, but the swelling had gone down.

Mandell flexed the fingers, but his gaze seemed fixed on some distant point.

He compressed his lips as though he debated something with himself.

“There is one more thing that happened last night,” he said reluctantly. “I should tell you about it before you hear about it from someone else. That fool Briggs has difficulty keeping his mouth shut.”

Mandell held up his hand for her inspection. “You must have wondered how my knuckles came to be in such a disreputable state.”

“You planted someone a facer?”

Mandell’s eyes widened in such surprise, Anne smiled.

“I had a young male cousin who was very much into blood sports. Am I correct? Did you mill someone down?”

“Yes, I did, as you so aptly put it, plant someone a facer. The face in this incidence might be of some concern to you. It belonged to your brother-in-law.”

“Lucien?” Anne’s smile vanished as she felt the beginnings of dread coil inside her. “You were fighting with Lucien? Why?”

“My dear Anne, two drunken fools at a tavern do not need a reason.”

But Anne was not about to be put off with this glib explanation.

“It was because of me,” she said. “Lucien vowed he would have his vengeance because he had been forced to return Norrie. I hoped he would come to his senses and simply forget all that had passed. I should have known better. I will not tolerate his making any more trouble for you. I will have to speak to him.”

“You won’t go anywhere near that bastard.” Something dangerous flashed in Mandell’s eyes, but Anne refused to be intimidated.

“Lucien’s quarrel is with me, not you. I know how foolish men can be when their tempers are roused. The next thing I shall hear is that the two of you are meeting to fight a duel.”

“You confuse me with my cousin Drummond. I don’t fight duels.”

When Anne shot him an incredulous look, he winced. “So even you have heard about the Constable affair. Is that to haunt me for the rest of my life? I was nothing but a green youth.”

Anne did not think he would deign to tell her any more.

She was surprised when he continued, “Cecily Constable, despite her spinsterhood, was a lady of vast experience, and she took great pleasure in sharing that experience with me, initiating me into the rites of—ah, er—” Mandell broke off with an irritated gesture.

“I was silly enough to fancy myself smitten with her, that is until the afternoon I discovered her also playing tutor to the stable boy. I was angry, my pride wounded enough to make some imprudent remarks about the lady’s virtue in her brother’s hearing.

Derek knew what a trollop she was, but for the sake of the family honor, he challenged me to a duel.

For the same reason, my grandfather insisted that I accept.

“So, there we were, two young idiots squaring off with pistols at the break of dawn, quaking in our boots. I was certain my hour had come, but when the smoke cleared, by some miracle I was left standing and Constable was on the ground, clutching his leg. I had shattered his kneecap.”

Mandell looked as though the memory still sickened him and he rushed to finish his tale.

“Eventually the leg had to be amputated below the knee, but the strange thing was, Constable did not seem unduly upset. He had defended his sister’s nonexistent virtue.

He was satisfied. Cecily was satisfied. My grandfather was satisfied.

The only one who didn’t find the conclusion satisfactory was me. ”

His face was raw with the bitterness and disillusion of youth. But he was quick to take refuge behind his mask of cynicism.

“I suppose it was a valuable lesson. I learned that it is not honor so much that matters as the appearance of it. Ever since then I have had the good sense to eschew dueling.”

“But you nearly challenged Lucien at Brooks’s,” Anne could not help reminding him.

“That was different.”

“How so?”

“Damn it, I don’t know. It just was. Perhaps Nick was right. Perhaps for once in my life I had found something worth fighting for.”

“To have me, a prize you did not even fully claim? Tell me, Mandell. Why did you choose to let me leave your bed that night?”

He could not seem to meet the directness of her gaze. He turned away, saying impatiently, “I already told you. My conscience finally caught up with me.”

“Was that really the reason? Or did you simply realize that you made a mistake—that I was not quite so attractive after all?”

“No!” He spun around, his eyes blazing. “I have only ever made one noble gesture and I’ll be damned if I’ll have it misinterpreted. I wanted you so much that I ached with the longing. God help me, I still do.”

Stepping closer, he ran his fingers through the tangle of her hair, holding up the golden strands to catch the sunlight. The hunger was in his gaze, stronger than ever, causing her to tremble, but no longer with fear.

“You are a beautiful, desirable woman,” he said.

“Obviously, your esteemed late husband never made you aware of that fact. Do you want to hear something truly absurd, Sorrow? The rest of your jewels are still in that pawnshop. I remember the owner pointing them out to me. But I chose to leave them because I didn’t want you to have anything back that Fairhaven had given you. ”

“Those other jewels meant nothing to me. You have returned to me everything that I ever held precious.”

“Did you love Sir Gerald?” Mandell demanded. “Whatever induced you to marry a self-righteous prig like that?”

With Mandell standing so close, his fingers rippling through her hair in that slow, seductive fashion, Anne had difficulty remembering.

“Gerald was handsome and he could be charming when he wished. That first night at Almack’s when I looked up and saw him bending over me, he seemed like some prince out of a fairy story.

I thought I fell madly in love with him, but sometimes I have wondered if I was merely afraid there would never be anyone else interested in me. ”

”I wish I could turn back time to that night,” he said. “I wish I had been there.”

Anne smiled sadly. “You would have never noticed a poor little mouse like me. There were many more dashing belles present.”

“We would have to turn the clock back for me as well, to a time before I had too many Cecily Constables in my life.” His dark eyes were wistful. “Back to when I was a more tender fellow. Is such a thing possible, Anne? Are you any good at pretending?”

“It would not be too difficult. I can remember exactly what I did that first evening.” Pulling away from Mandell, she sat down in one of Lily’s chairs, primly folded her hands, and stared at the tiles. “I spent the entire time studying a crack in the floor that resembled the outline of Ireland.”

“Would you have looked up if I had approached you?” Mandell stepped in front of her.

Anne regarded the tips of his Hessians. “I would have contented myself to admire your shoes.”

“What if I summoned one of the hostesses, Lady Jersey perhaps, to introduce me? `Miss Wendham, may I present to you the marquis of Mandell as a very desirable dancing partner.’”

Anne laughed. It was all nonsense, but her pulse fluttered and she felt absurdly shy. “Then I suppose I would have been obliged to look up.” Anne raised her head slowly.

She had no difficulty imagining how Mandell would have appeared in a candlelit ballroom, the soft light bringing out the sheen in his waves of ebony hair, the white folds of his cravat only serving to accent the lean masculine line of his jaw.