Susan Carroll (14 page)

“You don't seem entirely surprised to see me,
Sorrow,” he remarked.

“I'm not. I'm beginning to believe you are an
evil genius set on earth for the sole purpose of tormenting me for
my sins.”

“Sins you have yet to commit, milady.”

Anne chose to ignore this suggestive remark.
“What are you doing here? I cannot believe it is merely chance this
time that—” She broke off, recollecting the number of times this
evening she had fancied herself being followed. It must have been
Mandell all along. He had witnessed her reunion with Norrie, that
private moment of tenderness and heartache, all played out before
Mandell's cynical gaze.

“Damn you!” she cried. “You have been spying
upon me ever since I left Lily's. How dare you!”

“Alas, you must forgive me, my dear. I am a
jealous fool. I never dreamed this midnight rendezvous of yours
would be with a child.”

Mandell jealous? Anne eyed him with
disbelief. He spoke lightly enough, but with an odd grimace. That
was the trouble with Mandell and his sardonic facade. One could
never be sure whether he was serious or not.

“How did you even know I would be meeting
anyone tonight?” Anne demanded.

Mandell groped beneath the folds of his
cloak. He produced a crumpled scrap of paper. You dropped this out
of your purse at the theatre. I pocketed it when 1 retrieved the
reticule for you. If you mean to engage in this sort of clandestine
adventure, you ought to get in the habit of destroying your notes
at once.”

“I would have done so, but I never had the
chance. No sooner had I received the message, then Lily—” Anne
broke off. Why was she troubling to explain anything to Mandell?
She continued angrily, “It makes no difference. You had no right
reading my messages or following me.”

“Someone must keep watch over you, if you
will persist in these midnight wanderings,” he said. “Who was the
pretty child that draws you out at such a perilous hour?”

His question caused Anne to realize
something. While he had been able to observe, he must not have been
able to hear any of the whisperings between herself and Norrie.

“The child's identity is none of your
concern,” she informed him loftily.

“I suppose I can always make inquiries of
your sister.”

“Not” Anne's hauteur dissolved in an instant.
“You must not say anything about this to Lily or to anyone. No one
must know that I have been here tonight. If Lucien ever found out
that I had seen Norrie, I would never be able to get near her
again. Please, my lord. If you have any decency at all, you will
keep silent.”

Mandell regarded her through half-lowered
lids. “My silence would have a price.” She might have known he
would say something like that.

“Very well.” Anne raised her head with all
the drama of a martyr about to meet her doom. “Take your payment
then.”

She pursed her lips and closed her eyes,
bracing herself to be assaulted as Mandell had done that night in
the garden, the blood drumming through her veins.

The moment dragged out and she felt nothing
but the wind ruffling her hair. When Mandell did kiss her, his
mouth just brushed hers, the contact warm and fleeting.

Anne's eyes fluttered open in surprise to
find Mandell's dark eyes glinting with amusement

“Very sweet,” he murmured. “But a kiss was
not what I had in mind, Sorrow.”

Anne's cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment.
“Then why did you take it?”

“How could I refuse what was so prettily
offered? But I fear I must demand payment of another sort. I want
to know what is going on. Who is this Norrie? I believe that is
what you called her?”

Anne compressed her mouth into a stubborn
line.

“We are not going anywhere until you answer
me, Sorrow. We will stay here all night if we have to. It will not
bother me. I have always been a nocturnal creature by habit.”

Mandell leaned back against the gate,
inspecting his nails, looking as disinterested as though he graced
some boring afternoon tea. Yet Anne knew he meant what he said. He
was fully capable of holding her prisoner by Lucien's gate until
dawn if need be. And despite the marquis's negligent posture, she
doubted she would get very far if she attempted to flee.

“All right,” she conceded. “I will tell you
whatever you want to know. But can we not continue this
conversation elsewhere? I have already risked enough by lingering
this long. If Lucien were to catch me, he can be so vindictive.”
Anne shivered, drawing the ends of her shawl tightly about her.
“Can we please leave this place?”

Mandell came slowly away from the gate. He
undid his cloak, sweeping it from his shoulders. Before she could
guess his intent, he draped it about her, engulfing her in the
heavy black folds.

“Oh, n-no,” she stammered, finding the
contact of the fabric, warm from his body, redolent with his musky
scent, disturbingly intimate,

Mandell ignored her protest, fastening the
cloak about her neck. “I want no confessions from a woman with
chattering teeth. Let this be another lesson to you. Don't attend a
midnight revel so scantily clad.”

Anne started to inform him she was not in the
least chilled, but until Mandell had gathered her up in the warmth
of his cloak, she had not realized exactly how cold she was. The
garment, which came only to his knees, swirled to her ankles,
nearly dragging the ground, enveloping her from neck to toe.

She should have refused to allow this. She
wanted nothing from this man. But she was too tired to argue with
him, too glad of the cloak's sheltering folds.

“Thank you,” she said grudgingly.

“The pleasure is mine, milady.” Mandell
steered her away from Lucien's house. They crossed the narrow
street. At the end of the block, she could make out the lights of
Clarion Way, and hear the clatter of carriage wheels, the distant
strains of a waltz, the revelry that never seemed to end in
London's Mayfair district.

Mandell kept her to the side street, for
which Anne was grateful. The night shadows no longer seemed so
formidable with Mandell at her side, the darkness almost welcoming.
They walked slowly in silence until they were a good distance from
Lucien's before Mandell demanded again, “Who is Norrie, Anne?”

“Eleanor,” Anne corrected. “Eleanor Rose
Fairhaven. She is my daughter, my only child.” She pronounced the
last words with a deal of pride, a deal of sorrow.

At Mandell's prodding, she told him
everything, from the very beginning of Lucien's youthful
infatuation for her, a strange passion that had turned to hate. She
described the death of her husband and Gerald's infamous will.

“Gerald always saw me as a helpless little
fool. Although he disliked his brother, he left Lucien in charge of
everything. My house, my fortune, even my daughter.”

Anne sighed. “It was all right at first.
Lucien was too preoccupied with assuming Gerald's title to do more
than harass me in small ways—withholding funds, dismissing all my
servants, replacing them with his own.”

“Small ways!” Mandell echoed. “Most of the
ladies I know would be ready to kill if deprived of their favorite
abigail.”

A sad laugh escaped Anne. “Even that was
bearable. It was not until Lucien discovered he could distress me
the most by threatening to take Norrie away that—”

Anne came to an abrupt halt on the pavement,
shaking her head. “I cannot believe this wretched tale can hold any
interest for you, my lord.”

“Go on,” Mandell insisted.

Anne moistened her lips. “I suppose I never
believed Lucien would go that far, but one day last autumn ...” Her
words trailed away, the glow of the street lamps blurring before
her eyes. The memory still had the power to devastate her.

“I was out visiting in the neighborhood. One
of Gerald's tenants had taken ill. Since he had become lord of the
manor, Lucien always neglected such things. When I finally returned
to the house, I knew at once something was wrong.”

Anne's voice cracked. “The house was so
still, the way a house often seems when someone has died. None of
Lucien's servants would meet my eyes. They all avoided speaking to
me. But I did not have to ask. Somehow I just knew. I went tearing
up to the nursery.

“The place looked like it had been ransacked
by a thief. All the drawers hung open. Norrie's clothes were gone,
her books, even her doll. I remember screaming for Norrie, calling
her name. Oh, God. I thought I would lose my mind.”

She could not go on. Hot tears coursed down
her cheeks and she was mortified to put on such a display of grief
before Mandell. But when she glanced up at him, she was surprised
to find his expression not unsympathetic.

“My regrets, Sorrow,” he said. “But I never
seem to have a handkerchief about me.”

He caught her face between his hands,
brushing away her tears with the tips of his fingers. Anne tried to
regain control.

“I was crying that first night you met me.
What a perfect fool you must think I am.”

“This is neither the time nor the place for
me to show you what I think of you.”

His husky words and the feel of his hands
upon her skin sent a tingle of heat through her veins. Nervously,
Anne put his hands away from her, continuing with her tale.

“For a long time, I did not even know where
Lucien had taken Norrie. Finally, I traced her to London. That
night by your gate I was looking for Lucien's house. This evening
was the first time I had seen Norrie in months.”

“And so you have found your daughter at last.
Now what?”

It astonished Anne that he could even ask
such a question.

“I shall take her back from Lucien, of
course,” Anne said fiercely.

“How?”

“I have a plan. I have already pawned all my
jewels at this little shop in Chancery Street.”

“What! Are you quite insane?” he asked. “That
is in Bethnal Green, one of the worst slums in London.”

“I had no choice. I told you Lucien controls
all my funds and there are no pawnshops in Mayfair. I had to sell
off all my jewelry, even the locket with Norrie's picture. I
thought it wouldn't matter because I expected to have her back with
me soon and—”

Anne swallowed hard, steeling herself. She
was not going to start blubbering again. Her plan for recovering
Norrie had once seemed so clear, so possible, but as she tried to
explain it to Mandell, she realized how ridiculous it sounded, how
hopeless.

“So you bribed this maidservant, and were
going to find a way to singlehandedly storm the gates and steal
away a sleeping child?” he asked with an incredulous lift of his
brow. “All the while holding an entire household at bay with a
weapon which, with the way you had loaded it, would be incapable of
killing anyone, except perhaps yourself”

“I didn't want to kill anyone. I didn't even
want anyone to be hurt. I just want my daughter back.”

“Did it never occur to you that you might get
hurt making such an attempt?”

“I don't care,” Anne cried. “Oh, why should I
expect you to comprehend? No one else does. I love my daughter. I
would willingly die for her. Is that so hard to understand?”

“No. But you must take my word for this. Your
daughter would far rather you live.”

This remark was as strange as the expression
that passed across Mandell's features, the lines of his face for
once vulnerable. But as quickly as the look had come, Mandell
shuttered it away again.

“Did it never occur to you, milady,” he
asked, “that you needed someone to help you in such a desperate
undertaking?”

“Who would help me? Lucien has the law on his
side. I could not imagine any honorable gentleman of my
acquaintance deigning to interfere.”

“You don't need an honorable gentleman. You
need me.”

“You!”

“Yes. I believe I could devise a better way
of recovering your daughter than wandering through the streets at
midnight with a half-loaded pistol.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“Your pardon, Lady Fairhaven, but your skills
at intrigue leave a little to be desired. You had best leave the
details to me.”

Anne gaped at him. Either he had run mad or
she had “You are really planning to help me?”

“Yes.” Mandell gave her a slightly bemused
smile. “I rather believe that I am.”

“You astonish me, sir.”

“I astonish myself, madam.”

Wild unreasoning hope stirred to life inside
of Anne, but she fought to quell it. She still regarded Mandell's
offer with suspicion. “And what would you ask in return for your
services?'

Her question seemed to give him pause. “In
return?” he repeated softly. “Oh, yes, of course, I could hardly be
expected to act merely out of the goodness of my heart.” Whether he
mocked her or himself Anne could not tell.

She wrung her hands together beneath the
cloak, saying with a passionate desperation, “I would give
anything, do anything to get my daughter back. I would sell my soul
to the devil if I had to.”

“Careful, Sorrow. The devil just might take
you up on that offer”

The look he fired her way made his meaning
clear. “Name your price.”

“We both know what I want from you.”

For one dizzying moment, it was like standing
on the brink of some cliff, dark and fathomless. Anne stared deep
into Mandell's eyes and plunged.

“Done!” she said, holding out her hand. “You
get Norrie back for me and I pledge that I will come to your
bed.”

Mandell glanced down at her hand. “This
strikes me as an odd sort of bargain to be sealed with nothing but
a handshake.” His lips curved into a sultry smile which should have
warned her.

He seized the ends of the cloak. He dragged
her toward him, his mouth closing over hers, hot and hungry.

A faint protest escaped her, but was lost in
the fierce sensations his kiss aroused. Her lips parted before the
fury of his embrace, his tongue delving into her mouth, sending a
rush of heat through her veins that left her weak and shivering by
the time he released her.