Mistress

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE FOLLOWING MORNING BARCLAY WAS USHERED INTO THE library of Marcus's town house. He sat down with a weary sigh, fumbled his spectacles into place, and withdrew several sheets of paper from a leather case.

Marcus leaned back in his chair and tried to restrain his seething curiosity while Barclay consulted a page of notes.

"Well?" Marcus said after what seemed an interminable length of time but which, in reality, was scarcely two minutes.

Barclay cleared his throat portetit6usly and peered at Marcus over the gold wire frames of his spectacles. "To begin with, my lord, it appears that there never was a Mr. Bright. At least not one who was ever married to the current Mrs. Bright."

"I've already learned that much." The searing memory of the midnight tryst in the Temple of Vesta flashed through Marcus once again.

For the thousandth time he relived the glorious sensation of sinking himself into Iphiginia's hot, snug body. And for what must have been the thousandth time, he felt himself grow heavy with arousal.

He could almost feel the silken lushness of her inner thighs. The recollection of her exquisitely shaped breasts shimmered tantalizingly in his mind. Her nipples had been so fresh and ripe. They tasted like nothing he had ever known. Her beautifully rounded derriere reminded him of some exquisite, exotic fruit he had once grown in his conservatory. And the scent of her would linger in his mind forever.

Barclay's wiry brows connected in a solid line above his nose. "Begging your pardon, sir, but if you already knew that Mrs. Bright-I mean, Miss Bright is no widow, d'you mind telling me why you sent me haring off to Devon?" I

"I did not learn that particular fact until after you had left Town."

"How the devil did you discover it? I vow, no one here in Town knows."

Marcus worked to keep his answer vague. "I learned the truth about the nonexistent Mr. Bright by using the same scientific methods I employ to discover other sorts of facts."

Barclay looked confused. "You used a telescope or a microscope?"

"I used observation and deductive reasoning." Marcus sat forward and rested his elbows on his desk. He clasped his hands together and regarded Barclay with a combination of foreboding and anticipation. "What else did you learn?"

Barclay consulted his notes. "Miss Bright was born and reared in the village of Deepford. Very small place. Finding it gave me no end of trouble, I assure you."

"Nevertheless," Marcus said, "you did find it."

"Yes, m'lord." And if Barclay had discovered Deepford and the lack of a late Mr. Bright, others could do the same, Marcus thought. If someone else-a blackmailer, perhaps-grew curious enough to investigate her past, he would quickly learn that Iphiginia was no widow and therefore not immune to the rules Society imposed upon spinsters and innocents.

Marcus did not know which annoyed him the most, the fact that Iphiginia was so very vulnerable or her refusal to acknowledge her vulnerability.

"Continue, Barclay." "Her parents, both of whom appear to have been endowed with somewhat unconventional temperaments, were lost at sea when she was barely eighteen years of age. She undertook the raising of her younger sister, Corina-."

Just as I undertook the rearing of Bennet, Marcus thought. "How did she support herself and her sister? Was there a decent income from some inheritance?"

"No. Merely a bit from the sale of her mother's paintings and one or two pattern books that her father had produced."

Marcus picked up his wax seal and turned it in his fingers. "Not a great deal of money, then."

"No, m'lord, but Miss Bright appears to he rather enterprising in matters of finances."

Marcus got a chill in his gut. "What do you mean by that?"

"The first thing Miss Bright did after recovering from the shock of finding herself alone in the world with a young sister to support was to sell off the last of her mother's paintings and her father's pattern books. She used the money to open an academy for young ladies."

Marcus nearly dropped the seal on the desk. He stared at Barclay. "Miss Bright gave instruction to young ladies?"

"Yes, m'lord." "Deportment, manners, proper behavior? That sort of instruction?"

"Among other things. Apparently Miss Bright's academy had an excellent reputation. A number of respectable gentry families in the vicinity sent their young girls to her."

"Good God." Marcus was nearly overcome by a crazed desire to laugh out loud. The thought of Iphiginia — notorious, free-spirited, daring Iphiginia- making a living teaching Society's grim, straitlaced rules to young ladies was dazzling.

"Her cousin, Miss Farley, came to live with her a year after Miss Bright lost her parents. Miss Farley taught mathematics and natural history, I believe."

"You say the school's reputation was excellent?" "Yes, m'lord. As was the reputation of Miss Bright

herself. You may well believe that in a town the size of Deepford, any faults, transgressions, or lapses of propriety would have been duly noted and punished."

"A single lapse would have been enough to destroy her livelihood."

"More than enough. A teacher of young ladies must maintain the highest standards. She cannot afford even the appearance of improper conduct."

"Poor Iphiginia."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Never mind. What else did you learn?" "Let me see." Barclay shuffled some sheets of foolscap. "About three years ago, Miss Bright made another financial move which paid off rather handsomely."

"What sort of move?"

"It appears that she and her cousin formed a pool of investors. The pool was made up entirely of widows and spinsters, women who were in much the same position as themselves. They each contributed small amounts to a fund. The money was then loaned to a builder."

"A property speculation project?" "Yes, m'lord."

"Which property?"

"Morning Rose Square."

"Bloody hell." Marcus grinned appreciatively. "She must have made a packet."

"She did," Barclay said dryly. "She used some of her profits to provide her sister with a suitable portion."

"What about the sister? Where is she?"

"Still in Deepford. Last year she married one Richard Hampton, the only son of an established gentry family."

"I see. Presumably the Hamptons are blissfully unaware that Iphiginia is masquerading as a widow here in Town?

"Quite unaware. One can only imagine that the entire village would be horrified if the truth came out. Everyone back in Deepford, including the sister, believes that Miss Bright is still traipsing about Italy in the company of her cousin.»

"I wonder what the good people of Deepford thought of Miss Bright's decision to tour the Continent?"

"You may he certain that the journey was viewed with considerable disapproval."

"But it was not considered scandalous?"

"No, although there were any number of villagers who predicted that Miss Bright would come to a had end when she closed bet academy for young ladies and took off for the Continent."

"I'd wager there were." He got to his feet and went to stand at the window. "You have done an excellent job, Barclay."

"Thank you, sir, I do try."

"I know that I can rely upon your continued absolute discretion."

"Of course." Barclay sounded deeply grieved that Marcus even bothered to mention discretion. "Not a word will pass my lips."

"Thank you, Barclay."

Barclay hesitated. "There is one other small fact which may or may not he of interest to you, sir."

"What is that?"

"I mentioned that Miss Bright's sister, Corina, is married to Richard Hampton."

"What of it?"

"It seems that a couple of years ago there was talk of Mr. Hampton marrying the elder Miss Bright rather than Corina."

Marcus studied. "Indeed?"

"There appears to have been some confusion on the matter." Barclay paused. "Even the elder Miss Bright is said to have been, shall we say, surprised when Hampton made his interest in Corina known."

"Is that so?"

"The villagers concluded that the elder Miss Bright's heart was broken when Mr. Hampton made it plain that he preferred Miss Corina."

The news that Iphiginia had loved another man, might still be in love with him, went through Marcus like a knife.

Did be break your heart, Iphiginia? Was that why you cast off the shackles of propriety and chose to ignore the rules? Do you still love him? Was Richard Hampton the man you were thinking of last night when you held me in your arms and whispered that you loved me?

Marcus gazed out into the garden for a few minutes. A gentle rain was failing, muting the bright hues of the flowers and dampening the verdant green of the foliage. The day had turned unexpectedly bleak.

He turned back to face Barclay. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"No, m'lord, I believe that about sums up the results of my inquiries."

"Thank you for your hard work."

"Of course, sir." Barclay heaved himself to his feet. "it was a rather hectic journey. I look forward to going home and putting my feet up in front of my own hearth."

"There is one more thing." "Sir?"

"Tomorrow I would like you to make other inquiries for me."

"Concerning?"

"I would like you to find out who recently built an elaborate sepulchral monument to a Mrs. Elizabeth Eaton in Reeding Cemetery."

Barclay eyed him askance. "A sepulchral monument?"

"Yes, Barclay. A sort of grotto arrangement." Barclay looked resigned. "Very well, m'lord. I shall

see what I can discover. Will there be anything else?" "No, Barclay, you may go."

Marcus waited until he was alone in the library. Then he walked slowly back to his desk and picked up the message he had received from Hannah an hour ago.

M: Must see you. Urgent. Entrance to Dollanger Gardens. Two o'clock.

Yrs. H.

Marcus crumpled the small sheet of paper in one hand. He was afraid he could guess why Hannah was so anxious to risk seeing him again.

At two o'clock that afternoon, Marcus got into the nondescript hackney coach that halted on the street outside Dollanger Gardens.

Hannah, heavily veiled and dressed in an unremarkable brown carriage gown, waited inside. She had closed the curtains on the windows. The interior of the coach was drenched in shadows.

She confirmed his unpleasant hypothesis immediately. "I received another blackmail demand while you were out of town, Marcus. Another five thousand pounds." Hannah's normally soft voice was harsh with anxiety. "I was forced to pawn a lovely bracelet that Sands gave to me on my last birthday. I fear that I shall never be able to buy it back. I live in dread of the day he asks me why I never wear it."

"Where were you instructed to leave the money?" Marcus asked.

"The instructions were the same as last time. I left the money in a hackney coach in Pall Mall. Marcus, this cannot go on. I cannot continue to pawn my jewelry. Sooner or later Sands will notice."

"I suppose that it would be useless for me to try once more to convince you to tell Sands the truth."

"You know that I cannot do such a thing." Hannah raised her veil, revealing her desperate expression. "He will turn from me in disgust, I know he will."

"He is a reasonable man. Give him a chance, Hannah."

"I love him too much to take the risk. I do not expect you to comprehend my fear, Marcus. You have never been afraid of anything or anyone in your life. And it's obvious that you have never loved a woman the way I love my husband. If you had ever experienced such great depth of feeling, you would understand."

Marcus wondered if Iphiginia had loved her Richard Hampton with as much intensity and fervor as Hannah loved Sands. He pushed the notion aside. "I shall give you the five thousand pounds, Hannah. Fetch the bracelet from the jeweler's before he resells it."

She sagged back against the seat in relief. "Thank you, Marcus. You are a good friend. I shall pay you back,

swear it." "There is no need. We both know that I shall not miss the money."

She smiled wistfully. "No, but that is hardly the point, is it? There are many people as wealthy as yourself who would not advance a friend so much as a penny."

Marcus paid no attention. "This bloody blackmailer is getting bolder. He must he stopped."

"Have you made any progress toward discovering his identity?"

"Some, not much." Marcus regarded her through narrowed eyes. "I have a question, to ask you."

"What is it?" "I seem to recall that at the time of Spalding's death you had a young woman in your employ. I met her only once or twice, but I believe she had red hair."

"Caroline Baylor." Hannah grimaced in disgust. "What do you know of her?"

"Very little. Spalding would not allow me to go anywhere alone, not even to see my family in Hampshire. He claimed he was protecting me, but the truth was, he suspected that I would run away from him. He feared the scandal."

"Bastard." "When I complained of being confined to the house, he hired Caroline Baylor as a companion for me. I never did care for her. She was very sly. She came from a very respectable agency and had all sorts of references, but to this day, I believe she was actually Spalding's mistress."

It would have been typical of Spalding to install his mistress in his wife's household, Marcus reflected. "Do you know what became of her?"

"She disappeared the morning after I-" Hannah's hands tightened on her reticule. "The morning after I killed Spalding. But she was not in the house that night, Marcus' She had gone out. You know that. You walked in right after I had pulled the trigger. I was alone with Spalding. "

"You said that she came from a respectable agency. Do you recall which one?"

"The Wycherley Agency. It's considered the finest in London."

"Perhaps the owner of the agency will know what became of her."

Hannah's eyes widened. "Surely you do not believe that Caroline Baylor is the blackmailer?"

"Where do you think she went that night?" "I have no notion." Hannah's mouth twisted. "Caroline Baylor was not the usual sort of companion. She came and went as she pleased. Why are you suddenly concerned with finding her?"

It was not easy to juggle so many secrets. Marcus chose his words carefully. "I have formed a theory that the blackmailer may he a paid companion. Someone who would have once been in a position to know the secrets of both your household and that of the other victim."

"And who is now blackmailing her former employers? Good Lord, I never thought of that." Hannah frowned. "I can certainly envision Caroline resorting to blackmail. But why would she wait so long to do it?"

"We do not even know if she is the one behind this. But it's a place to start." Marcus pulled his watch out of his pocket and glanced at the time. It was two-thirty. He had a three o'clock appointment with Iphiginia. "I must be on my way, Hannah. I shall see that you get the five thousand pounds as soon as possible. My man of affairs can arrange to deliver it."

"It is very kind of you to help me again after all these years," Hannah whispered. "I do not know what I would do without you."

"We are friends. There is no need to thank me." Marcus reached out to open the carriage door.

"Marcus, wait." Hannah touched his arm. "Forgive me for asking, but are you on your way to meet Mrs. Bright?"

Marcus paused. "Why do you ask?" "Speaking as your friend, I must tell you that I have been bearing the oddest rumors. Are they true?"

"The rumors concerning me are always odd, Hannah, you know that."

"Yes, but these are different. I have heard that your new mistress is really quite extraordinary."

Marcus fought back a violent desire to tell her that Iphiginia was not his mistress, that she occupied a far more important role in his life. But there was nothing he could say at this point, not even to Hannah.

He retreated behind one of his well-known rules. Never explain.

"Hannah, you know that I never discuss such matters." He smiled humorlessly. "As the one who taught me how to conduct myself in Society, you would he the first to condemn me for ungentlemanly behavior were I to make any comment at all on the subject of my association with Mrs. Bright."

Hannah quickly withdrew her gloved hand from his sleeve. "I taught you how to eat with the proper fork and how to dance the waltz, but I certainly did not teach you how to become a figure of legend. You managed that on your own with your famous rules and your enigmatic ways.

"Do not concern yourself with my affairs, Hannah. I shall take care of myself."

"Yes, of course. I am sorry. I did not mean to pry. You are the best friend I have, Marcus, I cannot help but worry about you."

"It is your husband who should he your best friend now, not I." Marcus opened the door and got out of the carriage.

Adam Manwaring set his papers down, on Iphiginia's library desk and took a scat. He looked intently at Amelia. "Before I give you the results of my inquiries concerning Lady Guthrie's old companion, I should first tell you that I have talked to Mr. Dodgson."

Amelia tensed. "I trust that you informed him that he is not welcome to join the investment pool?"

"I did." Adam's expression was surprisingly grim. "And I told him why."

"Excellent," Iphiginia said. She glanced at Amelia and thought she saw a brief flicker of satisfaction in her cousin's eyes.

"I informed Dodgson that the investment pool is composed primarily of widows and spinsters, many of whom have worked as governesses and companions," Adam said. "I told him he no doubt understood why such ladies would not wish to do business with a man of his unfortunate reputation."

"What did he say?" Iphiginia asked. Adam shrugged. "I-le was incensed naturally. Claimed he had been grossly insulted and insisted on a meeting with the principals so that he could explain the misunderstanding."

Amelia looked down at her folded hands. "What did you tell him?"

"Simply that the principals had no intention of meeting with him," Adam said. "He then said that he had no recollection of any improper incident involving a young female employee in his or anyone else's household."

"Did he say that?" Amelia asked softly. Adam raised his brows. "He then proceeded to undermine his entire defense by flying into an apoplectic rage. He said everyone knew that the sort of females who became governesses were all bent on seducing the gentlemen in the households in which they were employed. He said that they were not to he trusted."

Amelia exchanged a sharp glance with Iphiginia., "He specifically mentioned governesses?"

"Yes," Adam said. "He did." "Then he most certainly does remember," Amelia whispered.

"Obviously." Iphiginia hurried to change the topic. "So much for that issue. Let us get on to the matter of Aunt Zoe's companion."

Adam reluctantly returned his attention to his papers. "As to that, I'm afraid I discovered very little information of a useful nature. Miss Todd died some five years ago."

"She's dead?" Iphiginia sat forward abruptly. She was so intent on Adam's announcement that she barely noticed the sound of a carriage in the street.

Adam glanced up from his notes with a quizzical frown. "She was nearly seventy. Did you know the lady?"

"No. No, I did not." Iphiginia recovered her aplomb. "But an acquaintance of mine is under the impression that she is still very much alive. This news will certainly come as a surprise. Did you learn anything else?"

Adam looked at his notes. "Miss Todd died a spinster. She was horn in a small village in Sussex and worked as a governess or companion most of her life."

"A dead end," Iphiginia murmured. "I told him so." Adam looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's not important," Iphiginia said. "Is that all of it?" "Yes, other than the fact that she spent most of her career with the-"

A crisp knock on the library door interrupted Adam before he could complete his sentence.

Iphiginia glanced at the clock. One minute until three. She glanced out the window and saw the black phaeton that had halted in front of her door. Her pulse quickened. Anticipation heightened all of her senses.

his was madness, she thought. She could not allow Marcus to affect her so acutely. She struggled to infuse her voice with an appropriately unconcerned tone.

The library door opened. Mrs. Shaw appeared. "Yes, Mrs. Shaw?" Iphiginia inquired.

"The Earl of Masters is here to see you, madam. Are you home?"

"Of course she's home. Any idiot can see that." Marcus strode into the library without waiting for the housekeeper to finish announcing him in a proper fashion. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Bright. Miss Farley."

"My lord," Iphiginia said very coolly. "You're early." "By one minute. I trust you will forgive me." Marcus walked toward the desk, took her hand, and brought it to his mouth. Amusement gleamed in his eyes, as though he was well aware of the chaotic condition of Iphiginia's senses.

"Allow me to introduce my man of affairs, Mr. Manwaring," Iphiginia said.

Marcus gave Adam a narrow look. "Manwaring." "Sir." Adam rose politely. "I was just leaving."

"Were you?" Marcus asked in an encouraging tone. "Do not allow me to delay you."

Adam flushed.

Iphiginia scowled at the ill-concealed rudeness. "Mr. Mainwaring has not quite finished his business, have you, Mr. Manwaring?"

Adam gathered up his notes. "As I said, there isn't anything else to add, except that Miss Todd was associated with the Wycherly Agency throughout most of her professional career."

"Damn," Marcus said very quietly.

Iphiginia looked at him, surprised by his reaction. "Is something wrong, my lord?"

"No." Marcus wandered over to the window, "Something just occurred to me, that's all."

Iphiginia turned back to Adam. "Thank you very much, Mr. Manwaring. You've been most helpful, as always. That will be all for today."

Marcus spoke without turning around. "A moment, Manwaring."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Did you inquire after Miss Todd at the Wycherly Agency?"

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact," Adam said. "I spoke with Mrs. Wycherly herself yesterday. She has owned and operated the agency for over twenty years. She was the one who informed me that Miss Todd had-died five years ago."

"I see."

Iphiginia glared at Marcus's broad back. Adam was her man of affairs, not his. "Would you see Mr. Manwaring out, Amelia?"

Amelia rose quickly. "Yes, of course."

Adam blushed. "It's not necessary. I can see myself out, Miss Farley."

"I shall be happy to escort you to the door, Mr. Manwaring," Amelia said.

"If you insist."

Iphiginia waited until the library door had closed behind the pair. Then she chuckled with satisfaction. "Those two were made for each other, you know."

"Which two?" "my cousin and Mr. Manwaring. I have every hope that they will soon realize that they are an ideal couple. They have so much in common in terms of personality and intellect."

"What utter nonsense." Marcus swung around with an impatient air. "Do you fancy yourself a matchmaker?"

"You'll see," Iphiginia said in a very superior tone. "I have an instinct for these things."

"Rubbish. You have an instinct for creating trouble." She glowered. "What is wrong with you today, sir?

"Are you still brooding about what happened at the Pettigrews? I told you, nothing has changed. All will be well."

"No, damn it, I am not brooding about that situation. There is nothing to brood about. What's done is done."

"Then what is affecting your temper?" He lowered his large frame onto a claw-footed chair and regarded Iphiginia with a meditative expression. "Do you believe in coincidence?"

Iphiginia gave a small shrug. "Strange things do happen. Why do you ask?"

"Because a rather interesting coincidence has just turned up with regard to our blackmail problem."

"What coincidence is that?" "My friend, the other victim, had a companion in her employ at the time the events for which she is now being blackmailed occurred."

"Stop right there." Iphiginia held up a triumphant hand. "If you're going to tell me that the companion's name was Miss Todd and that you think she is the blackmailer, you may as well save your breath. Miss Todd has been dead for five years."

"My friend's companion was named Caroline Baylor," Marcus said evenly. "The interesting coincidence is that she was also connected to the Wycherley Agency."

Iphiginia considered that carefully. "It is not such a great coincidence, is it? After A, the Wycherley Agency has been around for years. At one time or another it has no doubt sent governesses or companions into many of the best families."

"Nevertheless, it's a connection." Marcus glanced at the clock. "It's only a bit after three. I intend to speak to Mrs. Wycherly myself this afternoon."

"But Miss Todd is dead and you said your friend's companion has disappeared. What do you hope to learn from the owner of the agency?"

"I am not certain yet, but I intend to ask a few questions concerning both Miss Todd and Miss Baylor."

Iphiginia was intrigued. "I shall come with you to see Mrs. Wycherly."

"There is no need," Marcus said easily. "I shall report any information that I discover in the course of the interview."

"On the contrary, my lord." Iphiginia fixed him with a determined look. "We are partners in this venture, if you will recall."

Marcus contemplated her for a moment. "Very well. I suppose you'll only call on her by yourself if I do not take you with me."

"You suppose correct." Iphiginia was pleased by the small victory. She picked up her teacup and took a sip. The trick to handling Marcus, she told herself, was to demonstrate firm resolve. He was the sort of man who naturally assumed command of a situation. -A woman of weak spirit would be soft clay in his powerful hands.

"We shall deal with Mrs. Wycherly together in a while, then," Marcus said. "But first there are a few other matters I wish to discuss with you."

"What matters are those?" Iphiginia started to put her teacup down onto the saucer.

"The lack of a late Mr. Bright is the first item on the agenda."

The delicate teacup slipped from Iphiginia's grasp. It crashed against the edge of the saucer, tipped over, and spilled tea onto the polished mahogany desk.

"Good heavens." Iphiginia jumped to her feet snatched a gossamer white lace hankie from her pocket: and began to dab ineffectually at the spilled tea. I thought we had already disposed of that subject, sir."

"We certainly disposed of something in connection with the topic, but it wasn't the late, unlamented Mr. Bright."

Iphiginia tried desperately to control the blush that she knew must be turning her face a bright pink. "Really, Marcus."

"Yes, ready, Iphiginia." Marcus withdrew a large, sturdy linen handkerchief from his pocket, got to his feet with leisurely grace, and blotted up the tea in a single swipe. "Furthermore, having delved into the subject at some depth, so to speak, I find there is a great deal more to it than was apparent at first."

Iphiginia was seized with a sense of panic. "Such as?" Marcus's amber eyes gleamed. "Such as a certain academy for young ladies, a village called Deepford, and a sister who is married to the son of the most important family in the neighborhood. In short, Iphiginia, I know everything."

She felt as though she'd had the wind knocked out of her. She sank slowly back down into her chair. "How did you discover so much about me?"

"That is not important. What is important is that if I was able to learn the truth, others can and no doubt will eventually discover it, also."

Iphiginia was dazed by his blunt revelations. He had learned so much in such a short period of time. It was unnerving. "Sir, I believe you are telling me this because you are about to present me with a choice of two options.»

He cocked a brow. "Two?"

"Yes." She raised her chin. "You are going to tell me that I must either leave Town immediately before anyone else stumbles onto the truth or else I shad have to consider an offer of marriage from you. Is that not right?"

"You are wrong, Iphiginia."

She looked at him with renewed hope. "I am?" "Under the circumstances, there is only one option, not two. That option is marriage."

"Never," Iphiginia said loudly, resolutely, and so forcefully that she knew Marcus could not possibly guess that her heart was breaking. "Absolutely impossible. Out of the question. The entire notion cannot even be considered."

Marcus smiled grimly. "One of the most interesting things I have learned in the course of my scientific studies is that there are very few things which are impossible."