Page 27 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
Forget Norrie? Mandell’s vow snapped Anne back to her senses as nothing else could. She reminded herself of exactly what he was, a callous, cynical seducer of women. Nothing more,
She yanked her hand away. “You are the last person on this earth that I would ever trust. A man like you! A libertine with no honor, no heart, no proper feelings! If you will not leave me alone, I shall go myself.”
“That will not be necessary.”
Whatever gentleness she had fancied in his face was shuttered away again. He presented the sardonic facade she found far more familiar. Idly, he rose to his feet, straightening his cuffs. “There is no need for you to run away again. Sorrow. I will leave if that is what you wish.”
He sauntered toward the door of the box, pausing only to glance back at her, his eyes as bright and hard as onyx.
“But my going changes nothing, Anne,” he said. “I want you. I will have you.”
He swept her a magnificent bow, then was gone, his soft-spoken threat seeming to linger in the air. Anne found she was trembling so badly, she had to grip the back of her chair.
I want you. I will have you.
Panic lashed through Anne, accompanied by a feeling of strange wild excitement. It was but one more reason to avoid Mandell.
One more reason to gather up her daughter as soon as possible and flee London forever.
Five
Sara Palmer unfurled the leaves of her ivory-handled fan and waved it before her, trying to enjoy the luxury of what might be her last night attending the theatre. The subscription on the box Mandell had hired for her was due to run out. Such an excellent location it had been, near the stage, rather private from the rest of the house.
If she came to the theatre again, it would have to be at the half-pay rate, coming in after the main bill was over, sitting in the pit. Just another one of the economies she would be forced to practice until she acquired a wealthy and noble lover, hopefully one more marriage-minded this time.
Sara sighed. Her prospects did not look good. She was a fool to have broken with Mandell before she had been assured of something better. The marquis had been most generous, and under his protection, Sara feared, she had learned to be extravagant. Only three days separated from him and she was already feeling the pinch. Mandell had finished paying for the lease on her apartment and the stabling fees for her horses, but there had been the dressmaker’s bill she had forgotten to have him settle, also one from the jeweler.
Sara did not know what had gotten into her. She was usually far more efficient and businesslike in her dealings with men. Her only excuse was that she had been distracted of late, and she did not have to look far for the source of it.
Frowning, she glanced at the tall figure of the young soldier who lounged in the chair behind her. With a yawn and a stretch, her brother rose and moved toward the door of the box.
“Where are you going, Gideon?” Sara asked sharply.
“Just thought I would step out a moment to get a breath of air.”
“There is plenty of air right here. Sit down. I didn’t ask for your company tonight merely to have you abandon me while you slip backstage to flirt with some actress.”
“Is that what you are afraid of, my dear sister? Or did you think I was going to nip out to the alley and carve someone else up with my hook? The intermission is almost over and it has been so long since my last murder.”
“Lower your voice!” Sara hissed with a nervous glance around her. “There are some here tonight who might not appreciate your dark sense of humor.”
“Like that fat magistrate who was sitting in the box next to us?”
“Yes!” Sara was relieved to see that the portly official had stepped from his seat during the intermission, especially since Gideon persisted in talking so recklessly. Her brother had that look in his eye that boded ill. Sara had known it since their childhood, that diamond-hard glitter. Sometimes it almost seemed as though Gideon was begging to have a noose placed around his neck.
She was not soothed, even when he stepped up behind her and began to massage the back of her neck with his large powerful hands.
“Sara, Sara,” he chided. “You have to relax about this Hook affair. The beaks in the city are too busy rounding up all the one-handed men to bother with me as a suspect. The only one ready to send me to the gallows is you. You wound my tender feelings. Positively, you do.”
“Your feelings couldn’t be wounded with a poleax.” Impatiently, Sara thrust her brother’s hands away from her. “If I still suspect you had something to do with that murder, I have good reason. You were always lurking about with Bertie Glossop and that other young idiot Dan Keeler. And I know how vile your temper can be when you have been drinking. As if that were not enough, you have been flashing around an inordinate amount of money lately.”
“It is only my pension, the grand reward our government bestows upon the noble warriors who shed blood for dear old England.” His mocking tone was underscored with bitterness as his hand crept to his face in an almost reflexive gesture. He stroked the jagged scar that bisected his chin like a flash of white lightning, the legacy of the French saber that had nearly cleft his jaw in twain.
“You’ve never seen a penny of recompense since you have been out of the army,” Sara said indignantly.
“I never saw a penny while I was in the army. All I have to show for my devoted service is this uniform.”
“Stolen off of some officer’s back!”
