Susan Carroll (39 page)

“But Lucien had nothing to do with that. Your
friend Sir Lancelot was set upon by the Hook, was he not?”

“Yes, the dread Hook, the brigand so
desperate for riches he kills and leaves his victims' gold watches
behind. I find something deuced odd about that, Anne, so much so
that I wonder if the authorities have been wrong to search for the
Hook amongst the alleys and slums of the east side; if they should
not be looking in more respectable quarters.”

“What do you mean?” Anne asked uneasily.

“I'm damned if I know myself. It is only a
parcel of vague suspicions that persist in tormenting me. Just
promise me that you will be careful, Anne, and I shall be
satisfied. I do not wish to waste our last moments together talking
about the Hook.”

Our last moments.

Anne bit down upon her lip to prevent its
trembling. “I promise,” she said. She held out her hand, adding
bravely, “Then this truly is farewell.”

“I fear that it is.” He raised her fingers to
his lips. The kiss he placed there was achingly tender, warm, and
lingering. “This time I can honestly wish you every happiness, my
dear. I do not believe in love or forever afters, but—”

He hesitated then added “But, by God, Anne,
you make me wish that I did.”

Mandell had never meant to say anything like
that. Having decided that it was right this relationship should
end, he had meant to say his good-byes with merciful swiftness. It
should not have been this difficult, this painful, bidding her
farewell. But nothing with Anne was ever as it should have
been.

Mandell clung to her hand until they were
interrupted by the approach of her sister, and he was obliged to
release her.

“Ah, there the two of you are.” The countess
raised an arched eyebrow. “My dear Anne, you must not keep Mandell
sitting in your pocket all evening. The loose tongues have enough
to wag about already.”

Not giving Anne a chance to reply, Lily
turned to Mandell. Rapping him playfully with her fan, she affected
a pout of displeasure. “I have a complaint to lodge against you, my
lord.”

“Indeed?” Mandell's voice yet sounded husky
and he struggled to regain his composure.

“I thought we were old friends. How could you
keep such a secret from me?”

Mandell saw a telltale flush mount in Anne's
cheeks and he moved instinctively to shield her.

“I don't know what you mean,” he said.

“There is no use pretending anymore. How is
your grandfather taking the tidings of the connection? Not well, I
daresay.”

Mandell had hoped that no one save himself
and Anne knew of that grim scene in the park.

“Well, I—” he began hesitantly.

“His Grace could not have been more stunned
than I was,” Lily rattled on. “I am certain we all thought your
cousin would end a crusty old bachelor. Drummond never seemed the
sort to do anything so wildly romantic as elope.”

“Drummond?” Mandell echoed. Lily's
conversation had often made him feel as though he were trying to
swim upstream. He had his first inkling that the countess was not
speaking of the thing that he had feared, the affair between him
and Anne. But what she did seem to be talking about was equally
confounding.

“Nick. Elope?” he said scornfully. “My dear
countess, wherever did you hear such nonsensical gossip?”

“The proof, my lord, stands yonder. When I
invited Drummond tonight, I never expected him to come with a new
bride in tow. I gather he wed her just yesterday morning by special
license, this mysterious beauty no one knows. You must tell me all
about her, Mandell, who her family is, where she is from. Then
perhaps I shall forgive you.”

With a sweeping gesture, Lily nodded toward
the cluster of people near the door. Mandell had been so absorbed
with Anne these past minutes, the drawing room had faded to
insignificance. They might well have been alone. But now he became
aware of the excited hubbub of voices, of Drummond's brightly
garbed figure surrounded by Lily's guests, his hand being pumped in
earnest congratulations. The other newcomer was less visible except
for the elegant train of her gown. All view of her face was blocked
by the waving fans and headdresses of the other females.

Mandell's brows drew together in a heavy
frown.

“My dear Mandell, you look positively
thunderstruck. Could it be you actually did not know of your
cousin's intent to wed, either?” Lily purred in delight. “I fear
this will quite put an end to your reputation for uncanny
perception. Never mind, sir. It shall be my privilege to be the
first to entertain the newlyweds and to introduce you to your own
cousin's bride.”

Lily linked her arm through Mandell's. He
glanced back for Anne only to discover she had quietly slipped
away. Mandell would have been grateful for the chance to do so as
well, but he was too stunned to do other than permit Lily to lead
him across the room, chattering as she did so.

“Actually Drummond's startling news has
proved a godsend. This party was getting excessively flat. Mr.
Shelley turned out to be such a disappointment. His poetry is
depressing enough to make one want to hang oneself. If only he
could be more like Lord Byron, so deliciously rude, dark, and
brooding. Mr. Shelley is a pleasant young man, but I fear he will
never take in society.”

Mandell scarce heeded one word in ten, his
mind still reeling. Drummond elope? Mandell could not credit it. He
had never known Nick to spare any female a second glance except for
that dour Quakeress he had once admired for starting schools for
the poor. But even the flighty countess would hardly describe Miss
Abdingham as a mysterious beauty.

Mandell eased out of Lily's grasp and elbowed
some of her guests aside, as both his curiosity and impatience
mounted. Drummond glanced up at his approach, his face flushed with
a strange mixture of happiness and defiance.

“Mandell, I hoped you would be here tonight.
There is someone I have to present to you.”

“So I gather,” Mandell said. “What the deuce
sort of mischief have you been about, Nick?”

“None I fear that you will approve.” Nick
flashed him a smile. It struck Mandell that Nick's gaiety was
forced, so bright as to be almost feverish.

“My dear come here.” Nick disengaged his
bride from the cluster of excited females, dragging her
forward.

For Mandell, all sound, all movement in the
room faded to a blur. He could focus on nothing but the face of the
dark-haired woman immediately before him, a face of sultry beauty
with bright eyes that had ever reflected his own cynicism.

Sara.

He inhaled sharply, feeling as though a heavy
blow had forced the breath from his lungs. Too shocked to say
anything for several seconds, he finally managed to growl, “Is this
some sort of a jest?”

“I would hardly jest about anything that
means so much to me.” Nick's hand tightened possessively on Sara's
arm as he said, “My love, allow me to introduce you to my cousin,
the marquis of Mandell. Mandell, this is my bride, Sara.”

“I believe the lady and I have already met,”
Mandell said through clenched teeth.

Sara waxed pale, but she was still brazen
enough to offer him her hand. “Ah, yes, we were introduced once at
Drury Lane Theatre, was it not? How have you been, my lord?'

She tipped her chin in a challenging manner
as though daring him to contradict her, to say anything more. She
knew full well that he could not, damn her. Not in front of a
roomful of curious eyes, not without shattering Nick
completely.

Mandell had suspected this day might come,
when he would meet his former mistress again, Sara triumphant, at
last breaching the doors of the society she had always craved,
leaning on the arm of some poor fool she had snared to realize her
ambition. Mandell had expected to derive great amusement from the
moment. But he did not feel in the least like laughing.

Sara and Nick. How was it possible? How could
they even have met? With Nick always so buried in his Parliamentary
doings, Sara would have had to have arranged it, have deliberately
sought Nick out, knowing him to be Mandell's cousin.

The silence stretched out. Mandell was aware
of Nick's burning gaze upon him. He was forced to take Sara's hand.
Bending over it, he murmured for her ears alone.

“You bitch.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she muttered back, her
teeth gritted in a smile. “That was exactly the sort of
felicitation I expected from you.”

Sara slipped her hand from his grasp, only to
be swept off by Lily to be introduced to the rest of the pack of
cooing females. Mandell seized Nick by the arm and pulled him
roughly to one side.

“You young idiot. What the devil have you
done?”

“Fallen in love and gotten married, Mandell.
Some men do, you know.”

“Not with some—some—”

“Take care,” Nick warned, his eyes
blazing.

“Some female.” Mandell amended the epithet he
had been about to apply to Sara. “Some woman that you cannot have
known for very long. Can you possibly have any idea of who she is,
what her background might be?”

“I know Sara far better than you could ever
imagine.”

Did you know she had once been my mistress?
Mandell had to bite his tongue. It would be unthinkable to blurt
such a thing aloud, unthinkable and cruel. For all his hard
defiance, a hint of vulnerability lurked about the corners of
Nick's mouth, the trust of an idealistic dreamer. Small wonder that
Sara had found him such easy prey.

“Why, Nick?” he asked. “Why could you not
have come and talked to me first before you did anything so rash as
to elope?”

“Oh, yes, cousin, you are just the sort of
tenderhearted fellow I would have sought to confide in about Sara.
You would have told me to go take a cold bath or—or something
worse.” There has been so much I have wanted to discuss with you,
but you have never taken me seriously. No one ever has.”

He gave a shaky laugh. “Now it is too late.
Everything seems to have spun out of my control. We just came from
calling upon grandfather. He has cut me off completely and I don't
give a damn. As if I would ever want anything from him.”

Nick pronounced these last words with a
savage vehemence that astonished Mandell. “I love Sara, Mandell.
She is the only thing I have to cling to in a world gone mad. So if
you have any insulting remarks to make about her, you had best be
prepared to meet me with pistols at dawn. You always did say if we
ever fought, it would have to be over a woman.”

“But not this one,” Mandell said. As he
looked deep into Nick's stormy grey eyes, he could see how well and
truly Drummond was caught in Sara's toils. He raised his hand in a
gesture rife with frustration and hopelessness and started to stalk
away. He was stayed by Nick's hand on his sleeve.

“Damn it, Mandell,” Nick pleaded. “Even if
you do not approve, can you not at least wish me well? That is all
I am asking.”

Mandell shook him off.

“Congratulations,” he muttered. Unable to
meet Nick's eyes any longer, Mandell forced his way past the throng
of Lily's guests and strode out of the room.

Huddled on the stone bench in Lily's garden,
Anne stared at the lights that blazed in her sister's drawing room.
But the silhouettes that passed before the windows seemed to grow
fewer and fewer. Most of Lily's guests must have gone home.

How long had she been sitting out here? Hours
perhaps. Anne was not sure. After Mandell had bidden her good-bye,
she had felt the need to escape before she was overcome by her
emotions and disgraced them both. Lily's interruption had been
fortuitous. While her sister had distracted Mandell, Anne had been
able to slip out through the French doors unnoticed.

Seeking the veil of darkness, the trees
whispering about her like sheltering arms, Anne had sunk down upon
a stone bench. A moonlit garden was such a perfect place for a
stolen kiss or to sit in solitude and allow one's heart to quietly
break.

But strangely, the urge to weep had left her.
She remained dry-eyed, her heart numb. The unbearable ache of loss
would strike later, but for now she sat perfectly still, feeling
nothing but the cool night air upon her cheeks, listening to the
rustling of the newly minted spring leaves, the distant clatter of
carriages passing in the street beyond the garden wall.

Lily's flowers had begun to bloom in earnest,
but they would not reach their full exotic glory until early June.
Lily would have closed up the house by then, preparing to join the
fashionable crowd flocking to Brighton. She had invited Anne and
Norrie to join her and Anne supposed that they would. Norrie would
so love the sea. It would give the child something to look forward
to when Anne told her that Mandell would no longer be visiting
them.

No. She could not think about that just now.
Anne shifted upon the bench, wrapping her arms more tightly about
herself, trying to concentrate on the more distant future. After
Brighton, she would retire with Norrie to the country and find some
way to resume the placid life Anne had once known. Given enough
time, she could surely find a measure of contentment, could she
not? After all, she still had her daughter, and Lily, for all her
flightiness, was a most affectionate sister.

But who would Mandell have? It was him she
grieved for more than herself. No doubt he would resume his
rakehell lifestyle, likely find another mistress who would be ...
what was the word he had used? Conformable. Maybe he would even
acquire that wife he had spoken of, the elegant, ambitious lady who
would want nothing more from him than his name.

But he would be alone as he always had been.
His nightmares would still come, with no one to soothe him as he
slept, no one to understand.

Anne thought she would never forget the
anguish in his eyes when he had said,
I do not believe in love
or forever afters, but by God, Anne, you make me wish that I
did.