Page 22 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
Behind him, Mandell heard Nick groan. “Oh, no, Mandell! You are not still bent upon tormenting Anne Fairhaven. I hoped that after what happened at the Countess Sumner’s ball you would leave her alone.”
“And what would you know of that?” Mandell turned to state at his cousin. “Have you been spying upon me?”
Nick looked a little uncomfortable. “No, but I did see you escort her into the garden. I don’t know what you did to upset her, but when she returned, she was flustered and blushing.”
“The woman needs to blush occasionally. She is far too pale.”
Nick swore softly. “Mandell, you’ve got that look in your eye. I know it well. You have set your sights upon seducing Anne Fairhaven. Why, Mandell? Out of all the willing trollops in London, why must you meddle with a lady like her? Sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”
“That is hardly surprising. I rarely understand myself.” Plucking a piece of lint from his sleeve, he said casually, “By the by, I am indebted to you for drawing my attention to the lady that night at Lily’s. I might not have noticed her otherwise. You were quite right about the lady’s eyes. They are a most haunting blue.”
Nick’s eyes flashed with the beginnings of his infamous temper. “Curse you, Mandell. The lady is obviously already suffering from some sort of heartbreak.”
“Women’s hearts rarely break. The gentler sex is far more resilient than you would suppose. I will admit there is something troubling Anne, but I daresay it will prove to be quite mundane. She will recover in my arms.”
“You are damned confident, but there is the possibility the lady will have none of you. I despise gossip, but there has been talk that there may be something between Lady Fairhaven and her brother-in-law Lucien.”
Mandell’s jaw tightened for a moment, even the suggestion of such a thing enough to send a strange feeling coursing through his veins that was both ice and fire. He forced himself to shrug. “And so? I have ousted far better rivals than Sir Lucien.”
“And what if I were to appoint myself the lady’s champion?”
“Oh, I don’t believe you would do that. You have more entertaining causes to fight for than a lady’s virtue.”
Nick jerked to his feet, his hands clenching into fists. Mandell remained as he was, leaning indolently back in his chair. His eyes held Nick’s steadily until the young man looked away.
Nick slowly relaxed his hands and drew in a cleansing breath. “Damn it, Mandell, why do you do this to me? You know my lamentable temper. I would never want us to come to blows.”
“We won’t. At least not over a lady’s honor. Your choice of waistcoats perhaps, but never anything so insignificant as a woman.”
Nick shook his head darkly. “Talking to you is as much a waste of time as addressing Parliament.” He bent to retrieve his hat.
“Leaving so soon?” Mandell inquired amicably. “Ah, I forgot. Your distaste for murder, and I fear Macbeth is only getting started.”
Nick sketched him a tight-lipped bow. “Your servant, sir,” he said, and stalked out of the box just as the next act was about to begin.
Mandell experienced a flicker of regret. If he valued any man’s good opinion, it was Nick’s. Some ten years his junior, his cousin was like the brother he had never had and perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend. But Nick’s head was stuffed full of ideals; a belief in the possibility of a perfect world, that eventually reason would triumph and all men attain a level of goodness, even Mandell. Mandell could not allow his cousin to entertain such mistaken notions.
It was astonishing that Nick did not resent him. Mandell would not have blamed Nick if he had, and for reasons other than Mandell’s penchant for goading him. If not for Mandell, Nick would have become the next Duke of Windermere.
Of course, when his grandfather had rescued Mandell from France, Nick had not even been born. But the fact remained. Mandell’s arrival in England had cut Nick out of a considerable inheritance. Nick had never shown any sign that he minded. Despite his hot temper, he really was a good-natured fellow.
It surprised Mandell that Nick should wax so fierce in Lady Fairhaven’s defense. He had never known his cousin to take notice of any woman before. But if there ever was a lady calculated to rouse a man’s protective instincts, it was Anne. There was something about the lady that even stirred some noble feelings within him.
But not very many, Mandell conceded. The second act was well in progress, but once again all the drama he desired came from the box opposite.
Anne kept her gaze forward, but Mandell sensed she was taking in no more of the performance than he. Her hands fluttered from her lap to her pearls and back again. She appeared almost frightened.
Of what? Mandell did not have to look far to seek the cause. He wished he were seated beside her now, to still her hand and raise it to his lips, tell her there was no need for that much distress. He wanted to inspire many emotions within her, but fear was not one of them. He could remain content just to hold her, until she was soothed and reassured.
Mandell abruptly checked these peculiar thoughts. He had to stop and remind himself of just who he was. Certainly not the romantic hero of this farce. No, never the hero, always the villain.
While Macbeth schemed to make himself king, Anne Fairhaven’s mind reeled with plots of her own. The sounds of the players’ voices and the murmurs of the audience all faded to nothing. She was conscious of little more than the unsteady beating of her own pulse and the pistol tucked inside her reticule.
She clutched the silk purse against the folds of her gown, the concealed weapon a disturbing weight upon her lap. The pistolhad been purchased only that afternoon when she had pawned her jewels in a little shop in Bethnal Green.
Hiring a coach to escape from London, bribing servants, and buying the weapon all required a deal of money. With Lucien controlling the purse strings of her inheritance from Gerald, Anne had had no choice but to part with her jewelry. While the old pawnbroker had pawed over her treasures with his gnarled fingers, Anne had examined the array of pistols he had laid out for her inspection upon the dusty countertop.
The weapons had all terrified her, but at last she had dared pick up the smallest one with the pearl handle.
