Page 94 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
He quoted the words with a harsh mockery that tore at Anne’s already raw nerves.
“Please don’t, Mandell,” she begged, casting a nervous glance around, relieved that Lily’s other guests were out of earshot.
“Don’t what, my dear? Sigh over Mr. Shelley’s words? I thought such behavior would be expected of me. I am not certain how one plays the role of rejected suitor.”
“I wish you would be honest enough not to do so at all.” Anne met his gaze with a look of quiet reproach.
He scowled at her. She thought he meant to pivot on his heel and stalk away’. After a brief hesitation, the hard line of his mouth relaxed. His dark lashes drifted down, veiling the intensity of his eyes.
“You are right, Anne,” he said at last. “I am sorry. I don’t know what madness came over me today. I fear you unmanned me when you confessed to knowing about the nightmares. It was generous of you to have spared my pride for so long, pretending to have witnessed nothing, and I behaved like a perfect cad about the whole thing.”
“It was natural that you were distressed. I was too blunt when I blurted out the truth, and I should have refused your offer of marriage with more tact.”
“You mean by thanking me in the conventional manner for the great honor I had done you, saying you felt compelled to refuse me with deepest regrets?” he asked. “No, Sorrow, I am glad one of us retained their integrity and common sense this afternoon.”
Anne wished she deserved the praise. But she did not feel very sensible with Mandell so near. He set down the coffee cup. Bending over her, he started to reach for her hand, but likeherself, he was forced to remember they were not alone. He drew back as several ladies bustled up, clamoring for tea.
After Anne had served them and they had drifted away again, Mandell complained, “Is it necessary for you to attend to this? The countess has enough servants milling about doing nothing. I would like you to walk out with me onto the terrace.”
Anne stole a glance toward the French doors and thought of losing herself with Mandell in the whispering darkness of Lily’s garden. She steeled herself to resist the temptation.
“It would be too chilly.”
“It is a deal warmer than the first night you allowed me to lure you into the gardens.”
“I fear a night as warm as that one will never come again, my lord.”
Mandell vented an impatient sigh. “Then at least take a turn about the room with me. I need to speak to you, Anne.”
Before she could protest further, he summoned one of the footmen to take Anne’s place behind the tea urn. Most of the other guests were gathering about the pianoforte where Lady Mortlake swept back her train with a flourish and sat down to delight the company with a few selections.
The dowager played competently enough, but without Mandell’s soul and fire. As he escorted Anne away from the tea table, she saw him flinch. He led her to the far end of the drawing room, to the shadowed recess of one of the tall, curtained windows. Anne affected to admire the view of Lily’s gardens, but all she saw was Mandell hovering behind her, his reflection shimmering phantomlike in the night-darkened panes.
He sought again to apologize for his conduct. “I am astonished you can forgive me for my surly behavior, abandoning you like that at the park.”
“You will have more to do to appease Norrie,” Anne said. “She was disappointed when you left so soon. She has grown to be very fond of you.”
“You must convey to her my deepest regrets.”
“You do not intend to come and see her again yourself?” Anne asked, although she already knew the answer.
“No, I think it best that I do not.” Although he smiled, the lines about his mouth were deep, carved with weariness and resignation. “We appear to have reached an impasse in our relationship, my dear. You do not make me a very conformable mistress and it is obvious I will never make you a worthy husband.”
“I think you could make a worthy husband someday,” Anne said wistfully. “If only you would learn to set more value upon your heart than your estate and title.”
“And to think I once said you demanded too little, Sorrow. You ask far too much.”
”No, Mandell. I never expected that our time together would last forever.”
“You told me you were seeking only a few memories. Have I given you that much, milady?”
“Oh, yes! I spent so much of my life being afraid of the dark. I will always remember you as the man who taught me to love the power and beauty of night.”
If only she had not also learned to love the man himself, difficult, forever distant, locked away behind that wall of reserve she doubted he would ever permit anyone to breach. Those brief moments she had spent in the park with his grandfather had served to clarify for her the enigma that was Mandell. She could see it all now, how it must have been for the frightened child who had endured the horror of his mother’s death and the pain of his father’s defection, only to be thrust into a strange land, placed in the care of a stern and embittered old man.The duke of Windermere had obviously taken great pains with his grandson’s education, fashioning a sensitive boy into the haughty marquis, the cynical nobleman who believed in nothing, not even himself.
It was ironic, Anne thought. Never had she been able to understand Mandell so well as she did at this moment and never had they been further apart. Fearful lest her face betray her thoughts, she moved closer to the window. She sensed a movement of his hands as though he meant to rest them upon her shoulders. But his touch never came.
“You will take care of yourself and young Eleanor?” he said.
