Page 91 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
Anne regarded him sadly. “Would it have been better if you could have set me up in an establishment, bought me carriages and expensive presents? Would you have preferred our relationship to be more common?”
He stared at her for a long hard moment. “No,” he said at last, his eyes softening a little. “It has all been perfect just as it was.”
Was. Anne tried not to allow that single word to sink too deep into her heart,
“Exactly what did my grandfather say to you?” Mandell demanded. “How badly did he insult you? I suppose he took great pains pointing out how unsuitable he finds you as a candidate for a marchioness.”
“No, there was no need for him to do so. There has never been any question of marriage between us, Mandell, and so I told him.” Anne attempted to suppress the wistfulness in her voice. “His Grace spoke only of the improprieties of a liaison such as ours. He expressed a great concern for you.”
“For me or for the precious family honor?”
“At first, I did believe His Grace only worried about the possibility of scandal, but after you walked back with him to the carriage, Norrie said something most strange.” Anne cast Mandell a half-embarrassed glance. “Lily always laughs at me for paying such heed to the notions of a child. But Norrie’s perceptions often astonish me, my lord. When you and His Grace had gone, I attempted to soothe her, thinking the duke’s gruff manner might have frightened her. But she just shook her head in that quaint serious little way she has and said, the duke is such a sad old gentleman, Mama. He looks at Lord Man like you look at me sometimes when you are afraid you might lose me again.’”
Mandell gave an impatient frown, half raised his hand as though he wanted to brush Norrie’s words aside as nonsense but could not manage to do so. He shrugged. “The child may be partright. Even amid our quarrels, I sometimes feel a stab of pity for the old man. You must have heard about what happened to my mother. She was his favorite child, likely the only person he ever loved. He never recovered from her death. It poisoned his life.”
“And yours?”
Mandell chose to ignore the question, retreating behind his familiar wall of reserve. “We stray from the subject, Anne,” he said. “You are trying to paint for me this picture of the duke of Windermere as the doting grandparent, warning you most kindly about engaging in improper behavior. Pardon me if I do not quite believe it, my dear.”
“I never said your grandfather was kind to me. But he was civil.”
“Civil as a duelist, observing all the niceties of the code, while circling with his foil, striking unerringly at your most vulnerable spot.”
When Anne could not suppress a betraying flinch, Mandell gave a hard smile. “You see how well I know him, Sorrow. Did he find your vulnerability? It took far more than a scolding about being a naughty girl to drive the color from your cheeks. What else did he say to you? Tell me.”
Anne admitted reluctantly, “He did mention something that I had foolishly and selfishly not considered, a possible repercussion of an indiscretion such as ours.”
“Repercussion?”
“He said that I was not only risking my own reputation, but that if any scandal attached to me, it would eventually attach itself to Norrie and ruin her future as well.”
“Damn him! Damn him for using such a weapon against you.” Mandell compressed his lips, then added, “And damn him for being right.”
“Then you agree with him that the gossip about us might grow bad enough to do her harm. Oh, Mandell, I could not bear that.”
“Neither could I. I could not endure bringing harm to either of you.”
“It all seems so unfair,” Anne said with a hollow laugh. “Lily has had scores of lovers, as have half the married women of the ton, I daresay. I stray once from the path of virtue and I am threatened with the direst of consequences.”
“That is because you do not understand the rules of the game, my dear. Virtue is not as important as the appearance of it.”
“Then we must learn to be more discreet, to greet each other in public as if we were strangers.”
“It is far too late for such measures now. I see only one solution to the difficulties His Grace of Windermere has so graciously presented to us.”
“You mean we must stop seeing each other altogether,” Anne said in a voice of quiet misery.
“No.” Mandell drew himself up to his full height, his dark brows crashing together. Anne thought he had never looked so formidable. “You will have to marry me.”
“What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated fiercely.
His words stunned Anne to silence. She could feel her heart go still with a hope she dared not acknowledge. She raised her head, earnestly searching his face, delving into the black depths of his eyes. She found anger, pain, confusion, but not the emotion she sought. The hope died inside her, stillborn.
She eased her hands from his grasp and found the courage to utter the most difficult word she had ever spoken in her life.
“No.”
