Page 11 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
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.”
