No matter what Mandell might say, she felt responsible for his quarrel with his grandfather. Going to him, she laid her hand gently upon Mandell's arm, seeking to mend some of the damage she had inadvertently caused. “My lord, I am sure the duke meant no harm. Your grandfather has been hearing rumors about the illicit nature of our relationship, and it worried him.”
“His Grace has never fretted over much about my lack of morals before.”
“He seems to perceive some difference in our affair.”
“And so it is different.” Mandell gave a harsh bark of laughter, pulling away from her. “I don’t know what I am about myself these days. Meandering through the park, stopping by to take tea with you, bringing dolls to your daughter instead of diamonds to adorn your neck. This is not exactly my customary procedure with a mistress, Anne.”
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 part right. Even in the midst of 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 many me.”
“Wh-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.”
Mandell glared at her. “Did you not understand me? I just asked you to marry me.”
“Demanded that I do so.”
“Did you want me to go down on one knee, flatter you with some flowery speech of devotion?”
“It would make no difference. Not while your motive for doing so remained the same.”
“What would you know of my motives?”
“I can read them in your face.” Anne brushed one finger upon his temple near the darkness roiling in his eyes. “Here, I see defiance of your grandfather.” She trailed down to touch upon the implacable line of his jaw. “And here, I see the stubborn determination to offer me and Norrie the protection of your name.”
“Rubbish. We both know I am not afflicted with such noble impulses. I already told you I consider myself obliged to marry one day, and contrary to His Grace's opinions, I have decided you would make me a suitable bride.”
“You also told me your conception of marriage. The bartering of lands and title to beget an heir. A very cold bargain, Mandell.”
“But not very different from the contract you willingly entered with your first husband,” he sharply reminded her.
“I was younger then and a great deal more foolish. And at least with Gerald, I started out with the illusion of love.”
“Is that what you are looking for, illusions?” He sneered. “So much for all your bold talk about being content with a few moments of passion. What was it you were really hoping for, Anne? That I would eventually fall in love with you, that your dragon would turn into a prince and carry you off to his castle to live happily ever after?”
Anne flinched at his acid tone.
“I don't believe in such romantic folly,” he continued. “You knew that at the outset. The search for eternal love is nothing but some idiot's dream that can only lead to pain and sometimes ...” He swallowed hard. “Sometimes even death.”
“It would be better to risk both than to go about with your heart encased in ice, afraid to ever feel anything,” Anne cried. “To spend your life as though you were still trapped in some dark closet—”
She broke off, horri
fied at what she had been betrayed into saying, But it was already too late. Mandell fixed her with an accusing stare, his face gone white.
“What the devil do you know of dark closets'?” he asked.
“Nothing. I—”
“You merely chanced to overhear me sobbing in my sleep like some frightened child? When, Anne?”
When she did not answer him, he gripped her wrist. “When?”
Seeing that it was pointless to attempt to deny it, she confessed, “The night that you collapsed at Lily's, when I had you put to bed in the guest room. You were delirious, caught in the throes of some hideous nightmare.”
“You told me you heard nothing that night. You lied to me. Why?”
“Because I feared you would not have wanted me to have seen you when you were so devastated.”
“You are quite right about that.” He released her, stalking a few steps away. His reaction to her knowing of his most secret pain was all she had ever feared it would be. His eyes darkened with the haunted expression of a proud man suddenly stripped of all his defenses, left brutally exposed.
She wanted to touch him, draw him into the comfort of her arms, but she knew she did not dare.
“Mandell,” she said softly. “It is nothing to be ashamed of that you should still feel grief and pain over what happened to your mother. You cannot simply forget such a terrible thing. Being vulnerable is no disgrace.”
“That is where you are mistaken. Being vulnerable is the worst sin a man can commit.” His jaw hardened. “It only leaves one open to the ridicule of the world and the misplaced compassion of tenderhearted fools such as you. Don't waste your pity upon me, simply because you saw me plagued by a nightmare.
“I may not be able to control my dreams, but I assure you I have always been in command of my waking hours, never allowing them to be cluttered by the sort of useless sentimentality that torments lesser men.”
“Then it was quite wrong for you to propose marriage to me,” Anne said. “A tenderhearted fool would never make you a good marchioness.”
“There seems nothing more to be said. I suppose at this juncture I am expected to utter some noble rot about wishing you every future happiness, but I am not that generous.'
His bitter words stung her like a lash. She had thought his reaction to her refusal would be his usual shrug of indifference or even relief. What she had not expected was the depth of his anger and a flash of hurt in his eyes.
Pivoting on his heel, he strode to where his gelding was tied, undid the reins, and vaulted into the saddle. Anne pressed her fist to her mouth, swallowing the urge to call him back. She had to remind herself that if she had wounded anything, it had been his pride and not his heart.
As to the condition of her own heart, it was something she did not care to examine just now. She watched him wheel the black gelding about and thunder off through the park.
He had just vanished from view when Norrie cantered toward Anne on her pony. The child had coaxed James into allowing her to ride without his guiding hand upon the leading reins, but Anne felt too drained to remonstrate.
Norrie reined the pony to a halt, crying out in dismay, “Mama, where is Lord Man going? He did not even say good-bye to me and I wanted to show him how I can ride Pegasus all by myself.”
Anne felt unequal to dealing with her daughter's disappointment, but she managed to reply, “Lord Mandell recollected something important he had forgotten to do. We cannot take up all of his lordship's afternoon, babe.”
“Do you think he'll remember about Aunt Lily's party tonight? Can I wait up to tell him about Pegasus then?”
Anne winced. She had forgotten about the cursed soiree herself, and she had promised to help Lily hostess.
“No, Norrie,” Anne said dully. “I don't believe we shall be seeing Lord Mandell at Aunt Lily's tonight.”
Or ever again.
But that thought was too bleak for Anne to acknowledge to herself let alone to her sad-eyed little girl.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The party was what Lily termed a quiet evening, a little supper and cards for a select gathering of forty or fifty of the countess's most intimate acquaintances. She wished to introduce to her friends a passionate young poet she had met who promised to be as scandalous and infamous as Lord Byron.
Anne found Mr. Percy Shelley a little alarming, with his views that encompassed everything from atheism to the banishment of the monarchy. After dinner, when the gentleman was coaxed to recite some of his poetry, Anne was content to retreat behind the rosewood table in the drawing mom, helping to serve the tea and coffee. She felt out of place amongst such brilliant company, but it seemed preferable to the solitude of her room this evening. She knew she would have done nothing but stare out the window into the gathering gloom, listen to the mournful sough of the wind through the trees, and think too much about Mandell, wondering what she would say to Norrie when he did not come to join them in the park tomorrow, wondering what consolation she could whisper to herself when he never came again.
Any distraction was better than such torment, though she wished Lily's party was livelier. The drawing room had become oppressively solemn, with the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the earnest cadence of Mr. Shelley's voice reciting a sonnet he had been working on of late.
Lift not the painted veil which those who live Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there, And it but mimic all we would believe with colors idly spread
From the fidgeting of many of the guests, Anne wondered if they comprehended Mr. Shelley any better than she. Only one listened with rapt attention, a latecomer who stood apart from the others, barely inside the threshold of the room.
Anne's heart gave a jarring thud. Mandell. She had so convinced herself that he would not come tonight, she had ceased to look for him. She had no idea at what juncture he had slipped inside the drawing room, joining the other guests.
The sight of him occasioned her as much pain as joy. The unrelenting set of his shoulders reminded her of his behavior when they had first met, proud, sardonic, aloof. She saw no trace of the man who could be so laughing and tender with her little daughter, nor the lover who had wooed Anne with such gentle passion, nor even the man who had been vulnerable enough to tear out of the park in a rage of hurt and anger. He was the marquis tonight, garbed in that style of severe elegance, the contrast of black and white that became him so well. His dark fall of hair was swept back from his forehead, candlelight flickering over the plane of his high cheekbones.
When Mr. Shelley finished his recitation, the company broke into a polite smattering of applause. Mandell strolled away from the doorway and glanced about the room. It was then that his eyes met Anne's. She saw at once that it was more than the length of the chamber that separated them. The distance was in his eyes tonight.
Her heart sank. So he had not forgiven her for slighting his proposal of marriage. Then why had he come? She could not believe it was to hear Mr. Shelley declaim his poetry.
As Mandell approached her refuge behind the tea table, Anne busied herself with rearranging the spoons and helping the dowager Lady Mortlake to coffee. With the duke of Windermere's words of warning about scandal still ringing in her ears, Anne fancied a dozen pair of critical eyes upon her and the marquis.
When the dowager moved away to chatter and whisper with some of her acquaintances, Mandell took Lady Mortlake's place in front of the table. As he towered over her, Anne was too much aware of the silk-sheathed contours of his hard masculine figure. She strove to maintain a calm outward facade.
“Good evening, Lord Mandell.” It was difficult greeting him as a mere acquaintance, but if she did not look up at him, she found she could succeed. “Such a surprise to see you here this evening”
“Where did you think I would be?” he murmured low enough so that only she could hear. “Languishing at home with a broken heart'?”
The cold sneer in his words cut her deeply. It had been so long since he had used that t
one with her.
“No, you are looking very fit,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “May I pour you some coffee?”
Her fingers trembled so badly when she offered him the cup, Mandell was obliged to steady her hand with his own. The contact was warm and all too fleeting.
“You appear to be a little overcome this evening, my lady,” he drawled. “Perhaps it is owing to the force of Mr. Shelley's poetry.”
“I scarcely understand it and what I do comprehend saddens me, all this talk of raising painted veils and discovering only fear and disillusionment beneath.”
“I found his little sonnet most amusing and quite apt. How did that one part go? Ah, yes. 'He sought, for his lost heart was tender, things to love, But found them not, alas!' “
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.”
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