Page 53 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
“But servants will gossip and?—”
“Mine don’t. Especially not the one I sent to fetch you. I acquired John Hastings reluctantly at the insistence of my cousin Drummond. He has turned out to possess the two traits I value most in my servants, obedience and silence.
“But I have kept you standing in this drafty hall long enough.” Mandell draped his arm about her shoulders. “My house possesses far warmer rooms.”
Like his bedchamber, Anne thought with a sinking heart, her mind filling inevitably with that Turkish sultan’s den she had once imagined, rife with shameful secrets and satin sheets.
She allowed Mandell to guide her toward a door at the end of the corridor. He pushed it open, urging her across the threshold. Holding her breath, Anne stepped inside and blinked.
The room was normal, almost sedate, a sitting room of undeniably masculine influence, the glow of oil lamps reflecting off rich paneled walls. A small but comfortable forest green settee was drawn up near the hearth where a cozy fire crackled, a book of Dryden’s poetry left carelessly open upon a tripod table nearby. Busts of Mozart and Beethoven peered down from atop the mantel.
Somewhat reassured, Anne crept farther into the room only to draw up short at the sight of the arch which led into the adjoining chamber. She could make out the shape of an enormous four-poster bed, the coverlets already turned down.
Shrinking back, Anne collided against Mandell’s hard frame. She gasped as he reached for her, but he was only seeking to brush back her hood.
“Come out of hiding, Sorrow,” he said. “Your presence has been noticeably absent this past week. I wondered if you were seeking to avoid me, if you intended to cheat me out of my promised reward.”
Anne felt a telltale flush spread over her cheeks. “Of course not. But it was not the sort of debt I could repay by posting you a bank draft through the mail. You could have sent for me sooner. I would have come.”
“Would you have, indeed?”
Anne could not meet his eyes. He placed his fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look up. “I tried to give you a little time to make up your mind to come to me. You disappointed me, Anne, and my patience finally wore thin.”
“And if I had tried to cheat you, what would you have done?” she asked anxiously. “Would you have sought to undo your part of the bargain?”
“There are many things I am interested in undoing, my lady.” Mandell reached for the fastenings of her cloak. “But our bargain is not one of them.”
His long, graceful fingers deftly unbuttoned the braided froggings. Anne exhaled, telling herself she must try to relax. He was only taking off her cloak ... thus far.
Mandell swept away the garment, draping it over a leather armchair. As he took in the details of her very proper attire, his teeth flashed in a smile of genuine amusement.
“By God, madam, you could be on your way to church. Have you brought your prayer book as well?”
“No, but perhaps I should have,” Anne retorted “No doubt you could use a few prayers said for your soul.”
“Alas, milady, it is far too late for that.”
Anne flushed under his sardonic regard. “I told everyone I would be visiting my elderly godmother this evening. I had to dress accordingly.”
“Your godmother finds you quite charming, but far too pale as usual. Come, let me offer you some food and drink.” He waved her toward the window, where the heavy velvet draperies had been drawn, shutting out the night. Anne saw that covers for two had been laid out upon a small table, some silver-covered chafing dishes being kept warm on a sideboard.
“You intend for us to dine first?” Anne asked incredulously,
“Would you have me seduce you on an empty stomach?”
Her stomach was tensed into a thousand knots. How could he possibly expect her to eat? When Mandell began to draw back her chair, Anne shook her head.
“I am not hungry.”
“Let me at least offer you a little wine then.” He picked up a glass of delicate crystal and reached for a dust-covered bottle, a rare vintage that must have graced his cellars for some time.
“If you insist, my lord. But I should warn you it takes very little wine to make me fall asleep.”
Mandell paused with the bottle suspended in midair, that expressive brow of his arching upward. “Then perhaps I had better send down to the kitchen for some lemonade.”
“I am not thirsty, either,” Anne snapped. She did not sound very gracious, but she had never felt more nervous or out of her depth in her entire life. Not even on that dreadful night she had made her debut at Almack’s.
“All this politeness is not necessary, my lord. Whatever you want to do with me, I wish you would just do it and get it over with.”
