Page 54 of Beneath the Devil’s Mask (The Hidden Hearts Collection #4)

If only she had not also learned to love the man himself, difficult, forever distant, locked away behind that wall of reserve she doubted he would ever permit anyone to breach.

Those brief moments she had spent in the park with his grandfather had served to clarify for her the enigma that was Mandell.

She could see it all now, how it must have been for the frightened child who had endured the horror of his mother’s death and the pain of his father’s defection, only to be thrust into a strange land, placed in the care of a stern and embittered old man.

The duke of Windermere had obviously taken great pains with his grandson’s education, fashioning a sensitive boy into the haughty marquis, the cynical nobleman who believed in nothing, not even himself.

It was ironic, Anne thought. Never had she been able to understand Mandell so well as she did at this moment and never had they been further apart.

Fearful lest her face betray her thoughts, she moved closer to the window.

She sensed a movement of his hands as though he meant to rest them upon her shoulders. But his touch never came.

“You will take care of yourself and young Eleanor?” he said.

Anne nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“If you should ever need me for anything, you know you have only to send for me. If Lucien should return to torment you—”

“I don’t believe that he will.”

“But if he should— Norrie made an odd remark to me in the park today. She said she thought she saw her uncle peering at her from the window of his house.”

“She told me that, too, and I sent one of the footmen to check. The house is all closed. There is no one there.” Anne felt composed enough to face him again. “You must not worry about any more danger from Lucien, my lord.”

“I would not if you gave me your promise never to receive him again, never to be alone with him. I have felt uneasy ever since I learned of his abrupt departure from London. I found it rather odd coming so soon after the attack on Briggs.”

“But Lucien had nothing to do with that. Your friend Sir Lancelot was set upon by the Hook, was he not?”

“Yes, the dread Hook, the brigand so desperate for riches he kills and leaves his victims’ gold watches behind.

I find something deuced odd about that, Anne, so much so that I wonder if the authorities have been wrong to search for the Hook amongst the alleys and slums of the east side; if they should not be looking in more respectable quarters. ”

“What do you mean?” Anne asked uneasily.

“I’m damned if I know myself. It is only a parcel of vague suspicions that persist in tormenting me. Just promise me that you will be careful, Anne, and I shall be satisfied. I do not wish to waste our last moments together talking about the Hook.”

Our last moments.

Anne bit down upon her lip to prevent its trembling. “I promise,” she said. She held out her hand, adding bravely, “Then this truly is farewell.”

“I fear that it is.” He raised her fingers to his lips. The kiss he placed there was achingly tender, warm, and lingering. “This time I can honestly wish you every happiness, my dear. I do not believe in love or forever after, but—”

He hesitated then added “But, by God, Anne, you make me wish that I did.”

Mandell had never meant to say anything like that.

Having decided that it was right this relationship should end, he had meant to say his good-byes with merciful swiftness.

It should not have been this difficult, this painful, bidding her farewell.

But nothing with Anne was ever as it should have been.

Mandell clung to her hand until they were interrupted by the approach of her sister, and he was obliged to release her.

“Ah, there the two of you are.” The countess raised an arched eyebrow. “My dear Anne, you must not keep Mandell sitting in your pocket all evening. The loose tongues have enough to wag about already.”

Not giving Anne a chance to reply, Lily turned to Mandell. Rapping him playfully with her fan, she affected a pout of displeasure. “I have a complaint to lodge against you, my lord.”

“Indeed?” Mandell’s voice yet sounded husky and he struggled to regain his composure.

“I thought we were old friends. How could you keep such a secret from me?”

Mandell saw a telltale flush mount in Anne’s cheeks and he moved instinctively to shield her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“There is no use pretending anymore. How is your grandfather taking the tidings of the connection? Not well, I daresay.”

Mandell had hoped that no one save himself and Anne knew of that grim scene in the park.

“Well, I—” he began hesitantly.

“His Grace could not have been more stunned than I was,” Lily rattled on. “I am certain we all thought your cousin would end a crusty old bachelor. Drummond never seemed the sort to do anything so wildly romantic as elope.”

“Drummond?” Mandell echoed. Lily’s conversation had often made him feel as though he were trying to swim upstream.

He had his first inkling that the countess was not speaking of the thing that he had feared, the affair between him and Anne.

But what she did seem to be talking about was equally confounding.

“Nick. Elope?” he said scornfully. “My dear countess, wherever did you hear such nonsensical gossip?”

“The proof, my lord, stands yonder. When I invited Drummond tonight, I never expected him to come with a new bride in tow. I gather he wed her just yesterday morning by special license, this mysterious beauty no one knows. You must tell me all about her, Mandell, who her family is, where she is from. Then perhaps I shall forgive you.”

With a sweeping gesture, Lily nodded toward the cluster of people near the door.

Mandell had been so absorbed with Anne these past minutes, the drawing room had faded to insignificance.

They might well have been alone. But now he became aware of the excited hubbub of voices, of Drummond’s brightly garbed figure surrounded by Lily’s guests, his hand being pumped in earnest congratulations.

The other newcomer was less visible except for the elegant train of her gown.

All view of her face was blocked by the waving fans and headdresses of the other females.

Mandell’s brows drew together in a heavy frown.

“My dear Mandell, you look positively thunderstruck. Could it be you actually did not know of your cousin’s intent to wed, either?

” Lily purred in delight. “I fear this will quite put an end to your reputation for uncanny perception. Never mind, sir. It shall be my privilege to be the first to entertain the newlyweds and to introduce you to your own cousin’s bride. ”

Lily linked her arm through Mandell’s. He glanced back for Anne only to discover she had quietly slipped away. Mandell would have been grateful for the chance to do so as well, but he was too stunned to do other than permit Lily to lead him across the room, chattering as she did so.

“Actually, Drummond’s startling news has proved a godsend.

This party was getting excessively flat.

Mr. Shelley turned out to be such a disappointment.

His poetry is depressing enough to make one want to hang oneself.

If only he could be more like Lord Byron, so deliciously rude, dark, and brooding.

Mr. Shelley is a pleasant young man, but I fear he will never take in society. ”

Mandell scarce heeded one word in ten, his mind still reeling.

Drummond elope? Mandell could not credit it.

He had never known Nick to spare any female a second glance except for that dour Quakeress he had once admired for starting schools for the poor.

But even the flighty countess would hardly describe Miss Abdingham as a mysterious beauty.

Mandell eased out of Lily’s grasp and elbowed some of her guests aside, as both his curiosity and impatience mounted. Drummond glanced up at his approach, his face flushed with a strange mixture of happiness and defiance.

“Mandell, I hoped you would be here tonight. There is someone I have to present to you.”

“So I gather,” Mandell said. “What the deuce sort of mischief have you been about, Nick?”

“None I fear that you will approve.” Nick flashed him a smile. It struck Mandell that Nick’s gaiety was forced, so bright as to be almost feverish.

“My dear come here.” Nick disengaged his bride from the cluster of excited females, dragging her forward.

For Mandell, all sound, all movement in the room faded to a blur. He could focus on nothing but the face of the dark-haired woman immediately before him, a face of sultry beauty with bright eyes that had ever reflected his own cynicism.

Sara.

He inhaled sharply, feeling as though a heavy blow had forced the breath from his lungs. Too shocked to say anything for several seconds, he finally managed to growl, “Is this some sort of a jest?”

“I would hardly jest about anything that means so much to me.” Nick’s hand tightened possessively on Sara’s arm as he said, “My love, allow me to introduce you to my cousin, the marquis of Mandell. Mandell, this is my bride, Sara.”

“I believe the lady and I have already met,” Mandell said through clenched teeth.

Sara waxed pale, but she was still brazen enough to offer him her hand. “Ah, yes, we were introduced once at Drury Lane Theatre, was it not? How have you been, my lord?”

She tipped her chin in a challenging manner as though daring him to contradict her, to say anything more. She knew full well that he could not, damn her. Not in front of a roomful of curious eyes, not without shattering Nick completely.