Page 9 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
“What a damned crush this is,” Mandell said. “Is there anyone interesting present tonight?”
‘The Prince Regent is here, and your grandfather.”
“I said interesting.”
“Oh, you mean ladies,” Nick chuckled. “Well, the Beaufort heiress is here and the Countess Sumner’s sister is back in town, having set aside her mourning at last,”
“And who might she be?”
“You remember. Lady Anne Fairhaven, Sir Gerald’s widow.”
”Oh, yes, the deadly proper Sir Gerald Fairhaven. I did not even know that he was dead, but given how dull he was, it would have been difficult to tell.”
“You knew his brother Lucien had inherited the baronetcy. How did you think he got it if Sir Gerald was still alive?”
“I did not give the matter much consideration. Sir Lucien is not exactly one of my bosom companions. None of the Fairhavens have ever interested me much. As I recall, the lady Anne seemed not much livelier than her late husband.”
“Lady Fairhaven is certainly quiet, but I never thought her dull,” Nick said. “In fact, there is something quite appealing about her. She has the most remarkable sad eyes.”
“I wouldn’t know. The lady never let me get close enough to her to find out. I rather think she has a strong disapproval of men with libertine propensities.”
“Certainly, Lady Fairhaven is a woman of great virtue.”
“Indeed? I suppose that could be an amusing way to spend an evening, trying to discover exactly how unassailable that virtue might be.”
“Leave Lady Fairhaven alone, Mandell. She does not need you tormenting her. I hear she has come through a bad time of it since her husband died.”
“All the more reason she might welcome a little diversion,” Mandell said. “Perhaps I shall seek her out, unless, of course, you’ve a mind to try your own luck with the lady.”
“No! You know I am not in the market for a wife.”
“Neither am I.”
“That is exactly my objection,” Nick said hotly. “Lady Fairhaven may no longer be a debutante, but I don’t think she knows much of the world, certainly nothing of the sort of sport you seek. There is still an innocence about her.”
“Ah, but that is the trouble with innocence,” Mandell mocked. “For most of us, it is such a temporary state.”
Not giving his cousin a chance to retort, Mandell sauntered off, leaving Nick glowering after him. But far from harboring any thoughts of seduction, Mandell intended only to pay his respects to his hostess, then escape this den of heat and noise as soon as possible.
Skirting the edge of the gallery in his search for the countess, Mandell collided with the corpulent form of the Prince Regent. His Majesty’s frock coat glittered, overdecorated with the jeweled ribbons of far too many orders. He stared at Mandell, the prince’s florid features turning even redder.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Mandell murmured. He stepped back a pace and sketched a bow that was correct but still lacking in deference.
The prince’s jowls quivered and he stared straight through Mandell. He ambled past without a word of acknowledgment. The cut was unmistakable, but Mandell’s lips creased into a smile. He knew that he had never been a favorite with the Prince of Wales, not since the time George had been named regent due to his father’s madness. So many others had crowded around thevain prince, flattering, and offering their congratulations, that Mandell had been unable to resist expressing his condolences instead, along with a wish for the old king’s speedy recovery. Amid his triumph, George had been obliged to look a little ashamed of rejoicing over his father’s misfortune. The prince had never forgiven Mandell for that.
The greeting Mandell received from Lily, the Countess Sumner, was far warmer. Traversing the length of the room, Mandell spotted her, hovering over some young woman seated on a silk-covered chair.
At the sight of Mandell, Lily closed the distance between them with outstretched hands. A fading beauty, she made far too free use of the paint pots, but her figure retained a voluptuous charm.
“Mandell,” she cried. “You came after all. I vow you are a most welcome sight.”
“Am I? I had begun to wonder.” He carried her fingertips to his lips.
She laughed. “Oh, you mean your reception from the Prince Regent. Aye, I saw it all. You must not mind His Grace. The poor man is sadly put out. He was the focus of attention amongst the ladies until you walked in. You must have a dance with me later. I have all manner of interesting gossip to share with you.”
“Not about Bert Glossop, I trust. I have heard more than enough on that score.”
“Oh, no, something far more interesting.” She leaned forward to whisper behind her painted chicken-skin fan. “The Prince Regent has left off wearing his stays.”
