Page 64 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
Mandell’s smile faded to an expression more grim. “I intend to seek my comfort tonight in far different regions.”
Twelve
The storm abated long before the one that raged within Mandell’s soul. The night was still young when he swept down the steps of White’s where he had taken his supper alone, his forbidding scowl for once keeping even Lancelot Briggs at a distance.
Mandell had eaten too little and drunk far too much, but he was sober enough to keep a steady pace as he stalked along the rain-wet pavement. The amount of brandy he had consumed had done nothing to dull the pain of old memories. It only gave a sharper edge to the tension coiling inside him.
The storm had kept many a more prudent person from venturing abroad tonight. The usually bustling St. James was thin of traffic. The wind tugged at the flaps of his greatcoat and disheveled his hair. Mandell shoved back the straying locks and stepped off the pavement. He was looking to summon a hackney cab when he heard someone hailing him by name.
He turned to see Lancelot Briggs hastening down the steps of White’s. Mandell’s lip curled with disgust. Briggs’s plump frame appeared ridiculous swathed in a cloak with several capes. It was an exact imitation of the one Mandell had swirled about Anne’s shoulders that night that now seemed too long ago.
Thoughts of the lady only drove the ache inside Mandell deeper. He awaited Briggs’s approach, fixing an expression on his face black enough to keep Briggs from bounding up in his usual exuberant manner.
“Excuse me, my lord,” Briggs said timidly as he held out a high-crowned beaver hat. “But you forgot this. It’s your hat. You left it back there. At White’s, remember? Where you had supper.”
Mandell yanked the hat from his grasp.
“My lord is making an early evening of it. You are going home?”
“No!” Turning on his heel, Mandell walked away. To his irritation Briggs followed. It was difficult for Briggs to keep pace with Mandell’s long legs, but he managed.
“You have another engagement? You are going somewhere else, my lord? I would be pleased to accompany you.”
Mandell came to an abrupt halt. “I am going to the devil.”
“Oh.” Briggs looked a little daunted. But he forced a smile. “What a coincidence,” he jested weakly. “I was just going there myself.”
“It is not a journey that requires company, especially not that of a spy.”
“A spy, my lord?”
“That is what you are, is it not? Forever hovering near me, watching what I do, only to go bruiting my affairs about half the city.”
“No, my lord. I assure you. I never speak of anything that you do.”
‘The incident between myself and Sir Lucien,” Mandell reminded him. Even in the darkened street, he could detect Briggs’s guilty flush.
“Oh, that. Perhaps I did tell just a few. It is only that it was such a noble thing you did, forcing Sir Lucien to return LadyAnne’s daughter. You are too modest to ever speak of it yourself, so I could not help doing so myself.” Briggs squirmed beneath Mandell’s glare. “I am sorry, my lord. I am a rattle pated fool,”
“So you are. And a dead bore besides. Good night, sir.” Mandell set off again. He was annoyed past bearing to discover Briggs still dogging his steps. He drew in a sharp breath, but was forestalled by Briggs saying, “It will do you no good, my lord. You may insult me as you please. But I shan’t leave you.”
“Indeed?” Mandell said with a dangerous softness.
Briggs looked a little frightened, but he held his ground. “I have been observing you. You do not seem yourself this evening. I would not be any kind of a friend if I let you go off alone in this state.”
“You are not my friend, you encroaching idiot. I don’t want your damned friendship.”
“I know that, my lord,” Briggs said quietly. “But the choice is not yours. I would not presume to ask what is troubling you?—”
“How very wise of you.”
“But I do not think you should be wandering the streets this way when you are so distracted. It is not safe. The Hook was seen abroad again last night. He robbed two men near the Temple Bar.”
“And you mean to protect me from him and other such brigands. How touching.”
“I would do my best, my lord.”
“Go back to your club, Briggs, or go home or anywhere else you damn well choose. Just get the devil away from me.”
