Page 12 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
“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.
Three
Lily’s garden looked different by moonlight. By day, it was a place of serenity, sunlit walks, a springtime wilderness of budding flowers. By night, it was a place of seclusion, seductive fragrances, and threatening shadows that seemed to echo Mandell’s words.
Safe? Decidedly not. But do you truly wish to be?
Anne Fairhaven shivered. Yes, she wanted to cry out. That was exactly what she longed for, to be safe back in Norfolk, her little daughter Norrie cradled in her arms, to return to the security that had vanished when Gerald had died.
Only dire necessity had forced her back to London, amidst the glittering society she had always hated, thrusting herself into scenes and situations where she did not belong. Never had she dared steal away from the bright lights of a ballroom to take a midnight stroll. But she found herself doing many things she had never done these past few months, reckless things, frightening things. Desperation did that to one.
But she was still mistress of herself enough to know she did not want to be in a moonlit garden with any man, especially one as dangerous as the marquis of Mandell. She had hardly exchanged a word with him before tonight, but she knew himwell by his reputation, winning fortunes at the gaming tables, winning ladies to his bed, appearing to place no value on either prize. A hard, cruel man, he was reputed to have crippled another man in a duel when Mandell was but sixteen.
He stood out at any assemblage he attended, his eyes often dark with contempt as he regarded the company. Yet Anne had noted he was always welcome, especially by the foolish women. They clustered in groups, whispering.
“Mandell. Handsome as ever.”
“Aye, and never showing a sign of his age. You know, he must be past thirty-five and not a hint of grey in that glossy hair. I swear he must be in league with the devil.”
“My dear, he is the devil.”
And though she had never taken any part in this gossip, Anne thought so, too. What was she doing out here alone with him? She was not the sort of woman to draw upon herself the attention of such a libertine and she could only marvel that she had done so now. Let this be a lesson to her to take greater care in future whose gate she wept upon.
The ridiculous notion almost caused her to smile, and God knows she had had little enough to smile about since Gerald had died. She rarely entertained such frivolous thoughts and decided Mandell must be to blame.
The man made her so nervous with his silken voice. His presence seemed to fill the night, dark, overpowering, and undeniably male. She was relieved that he had at least taken his hand away from her shoulder. Yet she still felt his touch, as caressing as the breeze tickling her hair.
Rubbing her arms, she announced in what she hoped was a firm tone, “There. I am feeling better now. That was all I needed, just a few breaths of air.”
“Indeed? I had the impression that you have scarce drawn breath since we came out here.”
Anne was annoyed to realize he was right. She was holding her breath even now as he stalked closer. She expelled it in a long sigh.
“Small wonder if I am a little edgy,” she said. “All this talk of the Hook and murder. One does not feel safe venturing into one’s own garden.”
“You prefer wandering through the streets instead?”
“I did not know you were going to be there,” she retorted without thinking, then stammered, “I am sorry. I did not mean?—”
“Don’t apologize. I enjoy a woman who is honest. Now if I could only persuade you to be equally as truthful about why I found you wailing by my gate.”
“I was distressed because I had become lost in the dark. I ended up at your doorstep by mistake and now I wish you would simply forget you ever saw me there. I assure you, I was doing nothing wrong.”
“I never supposed that you were, Lady Sorrow.”
