Page 48 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
“I have always been a woman of action, Mr. Drummond. Now if you will excuse me, it is waxing late and I must find myself a hackney to?—”
Sara broke off, recollecting her stolen purse. She bit her lip in vexation, realizing she would have to return to the flat and borrow back some of the money she had given to Chastity.
Mr. Drummond apparently realized her predicament at the same moment for he said, “Look, Mrs. Palmer. I hope you will not think this too forward or misinterpret my offer, but I have my own carriage near here. I would be only too happy to escort you home.”
Too forward? His offer came as a great relief. It would save her bothering her mother and get her safely home. Even if Mr. Drummond’s intentions were not what they should be, Sara would know how to handle that.
But she was a shrewd judge of men, and as she stared into those steadfast grey eyes, she was certain that Mr. Drummond was a gentleman. She doubted he had ever harbored a wicked thought toward any woman in his life. Naive, idealistic, a dreamer and a fool, he appeared to be exactly the sort of nobleman that Sara had always told Mandell she meant to find one day.
Sara caught her breath at the thought. Mandell’s own cousin? No, she would never dare. She should not consider such a thing, even in passing. Yet she caught herself looking at Nick Drummond, speculating and trying to remember anything Mandell had ever let slip about this cousin—the state of Drummond’s fortune, if he stood to inherit a title.
“Now I am beginning to think I am the one with a smudge on my nose,” Nick complained good-naturedly. At the same time, he looked endearingly self-conscious.
Sara forced her eyes down, trying to summon a blush. It came naturally for once. She affected a maidenly hesitation before saying, “Thank you so much for your chivalrous offer to take me home, Mr. Drummond. I fear I am obliged to accept.”
Drummond seemed quite pleased. When he linked his arm through hers, Sara’s heart pounded. She must be quite mad.
Sara knew full well the marquis’s opinion of any of his noble family marrying the likes of her. If his lordship ever suspected that she might be courting his cousin ... She shuddered, being quite familiar with Mandell’s icy temper. But she was only accepting a carriage ride from Drummond. He might prove an unlikely prospect for her schemes.
As Nick escorted her down the street, she risked another glance at him. He was not a handsome man. But when he looked at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners that way, he possessed a charming smile.
And Sara found herself smiling back.
The devil fly away with Mandell if he had not done so already.
Nine
The black cloak pooled like a shadow in the bottom of Anne’s wardrobe. As she bent down, touching the garment, the folds of silk rustled in her fingers, whispering of night breezes, the heat of a kiss, a vow made with passionate desperation.
I would sell my soul to the devil if I had to.
Careful, Sorrow. The devil just might take you up on that offer.
The pact she had made with Mandell seemed fantastic in the daytime, sunlight spilling through the latticed windows, past the lacy curtains and over the elegant satinwood furniture of Anne’s room at Lily’s. The bedchamber was thoroughly feminine. No place could have been further removed from Mandell’s aura of powerful masculinity, from midnight wanderings and reckless promises.
If not for the cloak she clutched in her hands, Anne could have believed that their tryst had been nothing more than a haunting dream.
Yet the child napping in the little room just above Anne’s own was no dream. For the past week since Norrie’s return, Anne had feared she would awaken and find it so. She had kept the littlegirl with her almost constantly. Even when Norrie slept, Anne stole from her own bed, creeping down to the nursery to tuck the blankets more snugly around Norrie, to stroke a curl back from her cheek, just to touch the child, and reassure herself that Norrie would not disappear with the morning light.
But during that same week, Anne had had the leisure to wonder how she was ever going to keep her promise to Mandell to go to his bed. She tried to reassure herself. She was no shrinking virgin. She had been a married woman, for mercy’s sake; had borne children.
Yet Gerald had always been what he termed “a gentleman” in bed. He had eased up her nightgown, mumbling apologies for violating her chastity, taking her with merciful swiftness. Anne knew that what would take place between Mandell’s sheets would be nothing like that mundane wifely ritual. She had already had a taste of the difference in Mandell’s arms, his lips so hot upon her own.
He would want her naked in his bed and without any blushes of maidenly modesty. He would never be satisfied with the tame submission she had shown her late husband. Mandell would take relentlessly, demand with his mouth, with his hands, with his lean hard body. He might stir in her those passions she had learned to keep locked away, desires that often kept her awake nights, a fine sheen of perspiration bathing her flesh.
When he had done, Mandell would rise from the bed, offer her clothes with a mocking bow, and go coolly on his way. But Anne was very much afraid that she would never be the same woman again.
She pushed the cloak away from her, stuffing it to the very back of the wardrobe. She could not go through with it. She was not the sort of female who could offer herself up casually to a man. And such a man! A rake who had known dozens before her, women far more beautiful and sophisticated. What could she beto him but one more conquest, another night’s amusement, and a disappointing one at that?
But she had promised, and Anne had never broken a promise in her life. She bit ruefully down upon her thumbnail. She had pledged Mandell one night in his bed. Yet their bargain had not been a fair one, she argued. He had taken shameless advantage of her desperation, hadn’t he?
Anne’s conscience would not allow of that excuse, either. Who was it who had flung out such a reckless offer that could not help but tempt a man like Mandell? She owed him something. He had kept his word. She had her little girl back again. And yet how much had Mandell had to do with that? She did not know for sure. Of a certainty, he must have talked to Lucien, applied some little pressure. But she might have gotten Norrie back some other way even if Mandell had not intervened. Perhaps Lucien had been planning to return Norrie all along.
Anne groaned softly, resting her head against the wardrobe door. Who was she attempting to fool? She would never forget Lucien’s hate-filled look as her brother-in-law had thrust Norrie back into her arms. Lucien had never meant to return Norrie, and whatever Mandell had done to him, it had been far more than talk.
But his lordship had made no effort to contact her once this entire week. True, she had kept close to the house, but he had never called or even sent round a note. Perhaps, Anne thought hopefully, moving on to nibble the nail of her forefinger, perhaps Mandell had simply forgotten all about redeeming the pledge she had made.
But this comforting reflection did not last long. She could not block out the memory of his intense gaze, his warning,I do not deal kindly with those who break faith with me.
