Page 6 of Beneath the Devil’s Mask (The Hidden Hearts Collection #4)

The countess wagged her finger at him. “I dislike that gleam in your eye, my lord. You must form no designs upon my little sister. It would do her a world of good to take a lover. But you are far too wicked for her, I fear.”

“Do you know,” Mandell said pleasantly, “I have been warned away from the lady enough times, it is beginning to arouse the devil in me.”

Lily clucked her tongue at him and would have said more, but her attention was caught by the arrival of some other latecomers. She fluttered away to greet them like the distractible butterfly that she was.

That left Mandell free to wonder about Anne Fairhaven’s strange behavior. What had induced such a proper lady to roam the streets unescorted, weeping as though her heart would break? Mandell’s curiosity was aroused enough this time to pursue her—at least as far as the next room.

She had ducked into a small adjoining parlor set aside for those wishing for cards instead of dancing. When Mandell crossed the threshold, he found her standing near the hearth, observing the play at one table. Mandell saw nothing in this foursome to attract her interest.

The group consisted in part of a callow youth and Sir Lancelot Briggs.

Briggs gave Mandell a hopeful smile, but Mandell ignored him, more struck by the other two players.

One was the Lady Anne’s brother-in-law, Sir Lucien Fairhaven.

A large man with sun-streaked blond hair, his face was deeply carved with lines of dissipation.

But most surprising was the fourth man at the table, Mandell’s grandfather, the august duke of Windermere.

His Grace rarely tolerated the company of fools, so it was a mystery to Mandell why he would play at whist with any of these men.

His white hair swept back in a queue, his close-set eyes were shadowed beneath bushy brows.

He acknowledged Mandell’s presence with a curt nod.

Although Anne did not look Mandell’s way, she was obviously aware of his approach. She stiffened as he came up to her.

“How fortunate,” he said in low tones. “It would seem we meet again, my Lady Sorrow.”

“Don’t call me that,” she whispered, trying to sidle away. “I had hoped you would not recognize me.”

“I would have had to have been drunk not to. I liked your hair better down. It looked more golden in the moonlight.”

“Do go away,” she said. “I am trying to concentrate on the game.”

Mandell glanced idly at the table, when suddenly he realized what held her attention. Someone at the table was cheating and doing it badly. The card being dealt by the youth was scratched, a botched attempt to mark the deck. It must come to the notice of the entire table in a moment.

The question was who was responsible. Briggs?

No, the fellow lacked the wit to be other than honest. The spotted youth?

He had obviously been losing badly, trickles of sweat mingling with the blemishes on his brow.

As for the jaded Sir Lucien, he had accumulated an impressive pile of paper and coins in front of him.

Whoever was guilty, Mandell knew his grandfather would not take kindly to the discovery he was playing with a cheat.

Disgrace for one of these men was imminent.

The marked card had been shuffled his grandfather’s way.

The old man’s eyes were far too keen to miss it.

But just as the duke reached for the card, Anne overturned a glass of wine perched on the table.

The gesture was awkward, and Mandell could tell, quite deliberate.

The wine splattered in a splash of dark purple across the table and over the cards. Three of the men jerked back, only the duke remaining unperturbed.

Sir Lucien cursed, sopping at the mess with his handkerchief while one of Lily’s efficient footmen hastened over with a napkin.

“Anne!” Sir Lucien spluttered, giving her a vicious glare. “You clumsy little—”

Mandell felt something cold and lethal stir inside him. Sir Lucien had an ugly voice. Mandell did not think he quite liked the tone of it.

But before he could do or say anything, his grandfather stepped into the breach.

“It was not Lady Fairhaven’s fault,” the duke said. “I fear I jarred her hand. Certainly, there is no need for such an ill-bred display of temper, Sir Lucien. I think you should beg the lady’s pardon.”

The man had not been born whom the old duke could not browbeat. Sir Lucien flushed and looked like a sulky schoolboy, but he muttered, “I am sorry, Anne. But must you keep hovering there behind me? You are putting me off my game.”

The duke rose to his feet, making a bow to the flustered Lady Fairhaven. Mandell had to give the old devil his due. No one could behave in more courtly fashion to a woman.

“It must be very tedious here for you, my lady,” the duke said. “Allow me to provide you with some amusement. Here is my grandson. Mandell, take Lady Fairhaven in to dance.”

“Oh, no!” Anne protested, but Mandell stepped forward swiftly.

“With the greatest of pleasure.”

“Always so obedient,” the duke said with great irony. For a moment, his gaze locked on Mandell’s, their eyes clashing with old antagonisms. Then His Grace stepped back to permit Mandell to approach Anne.

She shrank away, turning in appeal to Sir Lucien, her expression akin to despair. “Forgive me, Lucien. But you know I have been hoping to speak with you. If you could spare me but a moment—”

“Later,” Sir Lucien snapped. He was already shuffling a new deck of cards.

Mandell observed this byplay between the two with interest and he wondered if Anne would yield. She had little choice. The incident had already focused every eye in the room upon them. After another hesitation, she permitted Mandell to take her arm.

As he led her toward the door, he bent down to speak softly in Anne’s ear. “I hope he appreciates it.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Whomever you just saved by that little accident.”

“Then you noticed—” She stopped, biting down upon her lip. “Of course. You would.”

“I saw the marked card, not who authored it. Sir Lucien perhaps?”

“No,” she made haste to disclaim. “It was the boy. He is far too young. He should not even be permitted to play.”

Mandell was not certain he believed her, but all he said was, “I trust your intervention will give the boy pause to reconsider the wisdom of his actions.”

“I hope so, too.”

When they passed into the drawing room, Anne tried to wriggle free. “Your grandfather was terribly kind, but of course, you are not obliged to dance with me.”

“Good. I hate dancing unless it is the waltz.”

“How unfortunate. The orchestra is playing a reel, my lord.” Her gaze skated back toward the card room.

Mandell wondered about the nature of her interest in Sir Lucien Fairhaven.

He usually had no difficulty in thinking the worst of people.

But the suspicion that Anne Fairhaven might be carrying on an intrigue with that underbred oaf was strangely unwelcome.

“There is little use lingering about here,” Mandell told her.

‘That card game will likely not break up for hours.”

“I know,” she said. She looked very tired. Signs of fatigue rendered most women rather hag-ridden. Anne only appeared younger, more vulnerable.

“Perhaps you had better let me take you in to supper,” Mandell said in a gentle tone he rarely used. “You appear as though you need some nourishment.”

“I am not at all hungry, my lord.” She pressed one hand to her brow. “It is only the heat and noise. I fear it is giving me a headache. I am sure I shall feel better if I step outside for a moment. Pray excuse me.”

She took a step toward the tall French doors that opened onto the terrace leading to the countess’s garden. She halted when Mandell moved to accompany her, casting him a look of dismay.

“There is not the least need for you to accompany me, my lord.”

“No?” Her wariness amused Mandell. “I begin to get the feeling, Lady Sorrow, you would as soon dispense with my company.”

“That I would. You are far too likely to plague me with a deal of questions I don’t wish to answer.”

“Then you may tell me to mind my own business. You have already done so once tonight.”

“But I don’t think it would be proper being alone with you in the garden. Not proper or—” She hesitated, biting down on her lip.

“Or?” he prompted.

“Or safe!”

Mandell’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. He raised her hand lightly to his lips, feeling her fingertips quiver at his caress. “Safe? Decidedly not. But do you truly wish to be?”

Giving her no chance to protest further, he slipped his arm about her shoulders. Gently, inexorably, he swept her through the doors and into the night.