Mistress

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"LADY SANDS, PLEASE, YOU MUSTN'T CARRY ON SO." Iphiginia pulled a hankie out of her little white satin reticule. She bent down and thrust it into Hannah's shaking fingers. "Everything will he fine."

"Thank you." Hannah blew her nose and risked an anguished look at her stony-faced spouse. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Bright. I never meant for this to happen. Marcus was right. I could not conceal the truth forever from my husband."

"What truth? What the devil is going on here?" Sands looked at Marcus, his face twisted with rage and pain. "And don't give me any more rubbish about taking one of Hardstaff's treatments, damn your eyes."

"Hannah is the only one who can tell you the truth," Marcus said. "I have given her my word that I would keep her secrets."

"What secrets do you share with my wife?" Sands exploded. "Did you trick her into coming here so that you could seduce her in that brothel bed over there?"

"No," Marcus said calmly. "Of course he did not do any such thing." Iphiginia straightened and glowered at Sands. "Really, sir, that is beyond anything. Masters would never seduce another man's wife."

Sands turned on her, his face still tight with fury. "How would you know?"

"Because I know him very, very well." Iphiginia patted Hannah's shoulder. "He is incapable of that sort of unprincipled behavior."

Marcus gazed at her with an unreadable expression. Sands eyed Iphiginia intently. "How do you come to be here tonight, Mrs. Bright?" "I received a note, just as you did, sir," Iphiginia said. "I arrived only moments before you and hid behind the curtain." She swept a hand out to indicate the erotic paintings, and the statuary. "Obviously, someone intended that I discover Masters together with Lady Sands in a compromising position. I suspect you were meant to do the same."

"Someone staged this entire affair?" Sands set his jaw. "Is that what you're saying?"

"It's the only logical assumption, is it not, Masters?" "Yes." Marcus regarded the small group thoughtfully.

"Hannah and I both received notes, too." "They could not have come from the blackmailer," Iphiginia said. "Mrs. Wycherly is dead. Besides, there was no demand for money in this night's work. Some other malicious person is behind this."

Sands stared at each of them in turn, more frustrated than ever. "What blackmailers

Hannah raised her head with sad dignity. "Someone blackmailed me, my lord. We believe it was Mrs. Wycherly from the Wycherly Agency. She also blackmailed an acquaintance of Mrs. Bright's. She was murdered by one of her other victims."

"That was our initial conclusion," Marcus said. "Good Lord," Sands whispered. He glanced at Marcus and then strode toward his wife. He pulled Hannah up into his arms. "Tell me everything, Hannah. For God's sake, the truth can he no worse than what I have been forced to imagine for the past fortnight."

Hannah's eyes Idled with tears. "You will turn from me in disgust."

"Never," Sands vowed. "Never, my love. You cannot have done anything that will give me a disgust of you. The only way in which you could break my heart would he to turn to another."

"Oh, Edward, I killed him." Hannah pressed her face into his shoulder. "I shot him dead. And I do not regret the murder. I only feared your discovery of it."

"Mo did you kill?" Sands moved his hand gently on her shivering back.

"Spalding," Hannah blurted. Sands frowned. "Your first husband?" "I killed him one night when he came home drunk and started to beat me. I could not endure any more of 6 rages." Hannah sobbed heavily. "I could not take the never-ending fear. The cruelty. I feared for the life of any child I might bear. Oh, Edward, I was always so afraid. Only Marcus discovered the truth."

Sands looked at Marcus over the top of Hannah's head. "Masters? How are you involved in this? The old rumors always labeled you as the killer."

"I walked in five minutes after she had shot him," Marcus said evenly. "I got rid of the body for her. Tossed it into the river. Made it appear as though he had hen killed by a footpad."

"That was the least of what he did." Hannah sniffed back tears. "He also bore the brunt of the suspicions and the gossip afterward. Everyone believed that Marcus profited from Spalding's death. But the truth was, my husband had cheated him and many others. The investment pool they had formed was on the verge of bankruptcy."

"I went to London that day to confront Spalding with the facts of his deceit, Marcus explained. "I arrived late in the evening and went straight to his house on Fulston Street. I discovered Hannah with the pistol still in her hand."

"I was in a state of near-collapse." Hannah looked at Sands. "Panic-stricken would be a better word. I was afraid that Spalding was dead but terrified of what would happen next. Masters took care of everything."

"I see." Sands gave Marcus a speculative look. "You kept quiet not only about Hannah's involvement in Spalding's death, but also about the financial state of the investment pool, did you not?"

"I had little choice," Marcus admitted. "There was too much at stake."

Hannah pushed a strand of hair back behind her ears. "If word of the instability of the pool had gotten out, there would have been panic. The investors would have sold their shares at a terrible loss. So many people would have been ruined." She smiled wistfully. "Marcus took charge of the investment pool and salvaged everything."

"And got very rich in the process," Sands observed neutrally.

Marcus shrugged but offered no further explanation. "Oh, Edward, I am so dreadfully sorry that you had

to learn the truth this way," Hannah whispered. "Marcus insisted I should tell, all. He claimed it was the only way to remove the venom from the blackmailer's fangs, but I was afraid to confide the truth to you. I loved you too much to risk turning you against me."

"I always suspected what sort of man Spalding was." Sands gripped her arms gently and pulled her against him. "I heard the rumors. But you know how such things are ignored by Polite Society."

"I know," Hannah mumbled. "Listen to me, Hannah. I am glad that you shot him. Do you hear me? I only wish that I had had the privilege of doing so myself. If I had been acquainted with you then, I would have done so."

"Edward." Hannah held him more tightly. "I told you, Hannah, there is nothing on the face of this earth that could turn me away from you except to learn that you loved another."

"Never," Hannah vowed. "You are the only man I have ever loved. The only one I will ever love."

Sands touched her hair. "Then from now on, will you also trust me?"

"Yes." Relief and joy were mingled in Hannah's voice. "I am so sorry that I did not tell you everything long ago."

Sands looked at Marcus. "It would appear that I am in your debt, sir. Not only for helping Hannah that night, but for shielding her from all the questions and suspicions that ensued."

Marcus shrugged. "It was nothing."

Iphiginia smiled proudly. "That is Masters for you, Lord Sands. A gentleman to his fingertips."

"It was Hannah who made me into a gentleman." Marcus thrust his legs out in front of him and leaned back against the scat of his coach. He stared out the window into the night and thought about the past. "She taught me everything I needed to know so that I could move confidently in Society.»

"One cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's car," Iphiginia said. "Lady Sands may have given you a polite polish, but the truth is, you must have been born with the proper instincts for noble behavior."

Marcus glanced at her, amused. "I was born a farmer, Iphiginia."

She dismissed that with an airy wave of her gloved hand. "What has that got to do with it? You would be a true nobleman if you fished for a living or sold vegetables out of the back of a cart."

He was touched by her naive faith in him. He tried to hide it behind a blandly derisive expression. "How very democratic of you. You sound like an American."

"As far as I am concerned, the title of gentleman belongs to those who cam it, not to those who happen to be born into the right families."

"That is not a commonly held view."

Her mouth curved in the shadows. "I rarely hold common views."

Marcus grinned briefly. "I am well aware of that. It is one of your more endearing qualities."

"Only a man who also holds uncommon views would appreciate such a quality in a female."

"No doubt." Marcus went back to his brooding contemplation of the night. It was a relief to be freed from the burden of Hannah's secret, he thought. Normally such things did not bother him, but he had not Red having to keep the truth from Iphiginia. She was the first woman with whom he had ever wanted to be completely open.

Having a confidante was a new experience for him. It was a simple pleasure but a profound one.

"Marcus?" ggyes?I5

"What are we going to do now? Mrs. Withered is dead. She could' not have sent those notes tonight. Who is behind this new trouble?"

Marcus brought his thoughts back to the issue at hand. "I don't know yet, but I have a theory that whoever killed Mrs. Wycherly may have found her list of blackmail victims."

"And that person has decided to carry on where she left off," Iphiginia asked.

"It's possible."

Iphiginia frowned in concentration. "It makes no sense. By forcing the four of us into a confrontation tonight, he risked ruining the scheme. Hannah revealed her secrets to her husband. She can no longer be blackmailed."

"Both you and Sands saw Hannah and me in a thoroughly compromising situation tonight, Iphiginia."

"Yes, but I knew immediately that you were not guilty of seducing Hannah, And Sands did not believe it for very long, either."

"No one," Marcus said very deliberately, "least of A the kind of person who is willing to pick up where a blackmailer left off, could have predicted that outcome."

Iphiginia stared at him in surprise. "Whatever do you mean? Oh." She wrinkled her nose. "You think that the villain assumed Lord Sands and I would believe the worst?"

"Yes." "Well, he was quite mistaken, was he not?" "It was an assumption that most people would make," Marcus said softly.

"Nonsense. Only those who do not comprehend connections based on mutual respect, intellectual affinity, and true love would he so idiotic."

"This may come as a surprise to you my dear, but I would venture to guess that ninety-nine percent of the populace in general, and one hundred percent of the ton in particular, fails to consider that such connections between men and women are even remotely possible."

"Is that so?" Iphiginia's gaze was startlingly direct. "How would you have reacted if you had walked into that chamber tonight and discovered me attempting to conceal the fact that a man was hiding behind the stage door?"

"I would have been bloody furious." "But would you have believed me if I had told you that I was innocent?"

Marcus thought about it. It came as something of a shock to realize that he would no doubt believe even the wildest explanation rather than face the possibility that Iphiginia had betrayed him. "Yes."

Iphiginia smiled with smug satisfaction. "I knew it. You do trust me, sir, do you not?"

"Yes, but I still would have been bloody furious. Pray, do not take a notion to put the matter to the test."

"I still do not understand what the villain hoped to achieve by throwing us all together tonight. Any way you look at it, he was putting his future income at risk."

Marcus was silent for a moment while he examined the conclusion he had reached earlier. "Perhaps we are now dealing with someone who gets a thrill out of malicious mischief. Whoever it is may not need the money he could make by blackmailing Mrs. Wycherley's victims."

"But he may enjoy exposing their secrets?"

"It's possible. Society breeds too many dangerously bored people, any number of which might find it titillating to use the information from Mrs. Wycherley's files to wreak havoc in the ton."

"Good heavens. What a terrible notion."

"Not a pleasant one, I'll grant you that." Marcus had no intention of explaining the rest of his hypothesis.

What really worried him was that he had sensed a personal element about the mischief that had been produced tonight. It was almost as though someone had wanted vengeance.

Iphiginia's eyes widened suddenly. "Aunt Zoe's secret may be at risk again. This villain may choose to expose her past in order to create a furor."

"It's possible," Marcus agreed. "I must warn her."

"There is nothing we can do now to stop the revelations, if that is what the villain intends."

"Yes, I know, but poor Aunt Zoe. She will be devastated if her secret is revealed."

"We shall see if we can locate her tonight and tell her what has happened. But it's entirely possible the villain will take no further action for a whole," Marcus said. "He may wait to see if he achieved the desired effect from tonight's little scene before he goes to the trouble of planning another such elaborate production."

"Tonight's work did take planning, did it not?"

"A considerable amount of it, I should think. Iphiginia, I'm beginning to have a few doubts about our An hour and a half later, shortly before two-thirty in the morning, Marcus walked into his laboratory, poured himself a glass of brandy, and settled into the chair behind his worktable.

He surveyed the chamber by the light of the single lamp that he had lit. He needed to think and he always. did his best thinking in this room.

He propped his boots on the table, leaned back, and took a sip of the brandy. It was his habit to let his thoughts drift aimlessly for a few minutes before he began to concentrate. The technique helped him to focus his attention.

He reflected briefly on the conversation in the Crandais' garden an hour ago. He knew Iphiginia was anxious about her aunt's situation, but Otis had seemed quietly satisfied with events. Marcus thought he understood. After eighteen years of being forced to play the role of a doting friend, Otis would now he able to claim his daughter.

By the end of the discussion, Zoe had seemed resigned to the inevitable, perhaps even relieved that the secret was about to come out.

It remained to he seen how Maryanne would respond to the news that Otis was her real father. Her wedding Plans were unquestionably in jeopardy, but who knew how it would all fall out? Marcus thought. Sheffield was an independent-minded young man with a will of his own. If he really loved Maryanne, he might not give a bloody damn about the gossip.

If he really loved Maryanne? "Bloody hell." Marcus's mouth turned down in disgust. He was starting to think like one of those idiot romantic poets. Obviously he had been' spending too much time in the company of his brother and Iphiginia. Their distorted, overly romanticized views of the relations between men and women were having an insidious effect on him. He would have to take care that he did not allow them to influence him unduly. He was a man of reason, not a Poet.

He had learned his lessons the hard way, formulated his rules so as to protect himself from the pitfalls of romantic inclinations.

A knock on the door of the laboratory interrupted Marcus before he could refocus his thoughts.

"Enter."

"Marcus?" Bennet walked into the room. Marcus glanced at him. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Bennet hesitated. "Lovelace said you were in here. I was on my way upstairs to bed. Thought I'd say good night."

"I came in here to do some thinking." Marcus looked down at the glass in his hand. "Have a brandy with me?"

"Thanks." Bennet seemed relieved by the invitation. He crossed the room to the brandy table and poured himself a measure.

Marcus waited.

Bennet cradled the brandy glass and looked down into its depths. "I saw you with Mrs. Bright an hour ago."

"At the Crandais'?" "Yes."

"I didn't see you."

"It was an awful crush," Bennet said. "The ballroom was packed."

"Yes, it was."

Bennet cleared his throat. "Have you made plans for your wedding yet?"

"Mrs. Bright has not yet consented to he my bride." Bennet's head came up swiftly, his expression one of amazement. "What did you say?"

"She is not precisely leaping at the opportunity to become my wife." Marcus smiled ruefully. "She claims that although she is rather, ah, fond of me, she is not terribly keen on the notion of marrying me."

Bennet choked on his brandy. "She must be mad." In spite of his opinion on the subject, it was obvious that he was affronted by the news.

"I shall take that as a compliment," Marcus said. "But in truth she is far from mad. She is spirited, proud, independent, and very much an Original, but she is not mad."

"How could she not want to marry you? You're an earl, for God's sake. And wealthy into the bargain. Any woman in her position would kill to marry you."

"Mrs. Bright is quite comfortably well off, thanks to her own judicious investments. Nor does she seem overly impressed with my title." Marcus smiled faintly. "She has a remarkably egalitarian notion of what constitutes a gentleman. I believe she has read a bit too much of Locke, Rousseau, and, very likely, Jefferson."

Bennet was incensed. "She has not questioned your right to the title, has she?"

"No." "I should hope not." Bennet scowled. "Are you telling me that she might actually refuse your offer?"

"I am telling you that I shall have to put forth considerable effort in order to convince her that I would make her a suitable husband."

"Hellfire." Bennet breathed. "This is amazing. I do not know whether to he cheered by the news or insulted by her nerve."

Marcus turned the glass in his hand and watched the lamplight dance in the crystal. "It was Mrs. Bright who convinced me to withdraw my objections to your plans to become engaged to Juliana Dorchester."

Bennet glowered at him. "I don't believe that. Why would Mrs. Bright get involved in my affairs? Why should she give a damn whom I marry?"

"She cares about a great many odd things. And a number of people."

"Marcus, do you actually mean to say that you changed your mind about my marriage plans because of something your good friend Mrs. Bright had to say on the subject?"

Marcus smiled ruefully. "Does that surprise you?" "It astounds me."

"I confess, you aren't the only one. I was somewhat taken aback myself."

"I cannot imagine you allowing anyone, least of all one of your paramours-" Bennet broke off abruptly when Marcus narrowed his eyes in warning. "I mean, one of your female acquaintances to influence you. Devil take it, I've never known you to alter your views on a subject once you've made up your mind."

"That's not entirely true. I've been known to change my mind when new facts are introduced which warrant a new conclusion."

"Bah. That almost never happens because you almost never make up your mind before you have investigated all aspects of a matter quite thoroughly."

"Suffice it to say that Mrs. Bright succeeded in causing me to alter my decision regarding your plans." Marcus took a swallow of his brandy.

"Damnation." "It concerns you that I have allowed her to influence me?"

"Yes." Bennet's mouth tightened ominously. "Yes, it does, even though in this instance I have been the beneficiary of her interference, This is not like you, Marcus."

"No, it's not." Marcus studied the clockwork man in the corner. "I have always made it a point to order my life along a few simple, straightforward principles."

"You certainly have done so since I was a boy," Bennet agreed sourly.

"Mrs. Bright has caused me to bend, and in some cases break, several of my own rules. Barring the possibility that I have, myself, gone mad, what do you suppose it all signifies?"

"No offense, brother, but it strikes me that you have allowed your passions to rule your head."

"I once accused you of the same thing."

"Yes, you did." Bennet looked bleak. "You really do intend to marry her, do you not?"

"Yes."

Bennet sighed. "Would you mind telling me why you feel you must marry this particular female, Marcus?"

Marcus gazed broodingly at the clockwork man. "When I am with her I do not feel as though I am made of gears and springs."

Barclay examined the notes he had just finished making. I-le pushed his spectacles more firmly onto his nose and considered Marcus through them. "What, precisely, do you hope to discover, sir?"

"I am looking for some sort of link between the Hardstaff museum operation and the person who is constructing the sepulchral monument."

"I don't understand. What possible connection could there be?"

Marcus smiled thinly. "That is what I am paying you to learn, Barclay."

"Yes, my lord." Barclay groaned as he heaved himself I out of the chair. "I shall get to work on it at once."