Mistress

CHAPTER TWO

I EXPECT YOU HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS, MY LORD.

"Several, as a matter of fact." Marcus settled into his scat. He watched Iphiginia sit briskly upright, straighten a white plume in her hair, and shake out her skirts.

"Only to be expected and I shall he pleased to answer them," she said. "But first I want to thank you for not giving away the game a moment ago. I am well aware that you must have found the entire performance a bit awkward."

"Not in the least, Mrs. Bright. I assure you, I found it quite fascinating."

She gave him a glorious smile. Marcus was momentarily transfixed. He suddenly realized how she had managed to captivate the majority of his acquaintances.

"I knew you would play along with me until you discovered precisely what was afoot." Iphiginia's vivid hazel eyes held more than a hint of satisfaction. "I was certain of it. I knew you would he too clever, too perceptive, too coolheaded, too intelligent to do anything rash until you had investigated the matter thoroughly."

"I appreciate your confidence in me, I assure you, however, that I also possess enough wit not to he completely distracted from the matter at hand by your very charming flattery."

She blinked in surprise. "But I was not flattering you, sir. I meant every word. I have made an intense study of your nature and I have concluded that you have a very fine brain."

Marcus gazed at her, briefly at a loss for words. "You admire my brain?"

"Yes, indeed," she said with what was, to all appearances, genuine enthusiasm. "I have read all of your papers in The Technical and Scientific Repository and I was most impressed. The one on the potential of the steam engine was particularly inspiring. Not that your proposal for a mechanical threshing machine was not also extremely exciting."

"Bloody hell." She blushed. "I confess I am not well versed in technical and mechanical matters. Personally, I am a student of classical antiquities. Most of my time has been spent in that field."

"See." "But I am pleased to say that I was able to comprehend most of the mechanical principles you discussed in your articles. You write quite clearly, my lord."

"Thank you." He had spoken too quickly when he had told her that he possessed too much wit to fall victim to flattery, Marcus thought wryly. He was momentarily enthralled. He had never had a woman compliment him on his scientific and technical writings, let alone on his intelligence.

"You also wrote a quite instructive piece on budding construction techniques which was of considerable interest to me," Iphiginia continued. She launched into a recital of the significant points of the article.

Marcus listened with a sense of dazed wonder. He lounged back into the corner of the black velvet scat cushion, crossed his arms, and studied Iphiginia's face in the glow of the carriage lamp.

Whatever it was he had expected to find when he finally cornered his new «mistress» in the Fenwicks' ballroom, he reflected, Iphiginia Bright was not it.

Charles Trescott had been wrong when he'd implied that the adventurous widow made a mockery of chastity and purity with her choice of virginal white attire.

Iphiginia Bright somehow managed to give the impression of being the real thing, a lady of pristine, unstained virtue. It was really quite astonishing.

The effect was not achieved solely by her angelic white gown, gloves, and shoes. It seemed to emanate from the very depths of the woman herself. There was something about her clear, intelligent, forthright gaze, arresting nose, and soft, gentle mouth that spoke of virtue. Her hair was the color of dark honey. She was striking in some ways, subtle in others. Although she was no great beauty, she was the most interesting female Marcus had ever encountered.

There was also an alluring air of very feminine sensuality about her, yet she had not chosen to emphasize it with her clothing. The cut of her gown was surprisingly demure. Another clever touch, Marcus conceded privately. A man's imagination was a powerful tool and she knew how to employ it.

The curves of Iphiginia's small, high, delicately rounded breasts did not overflow the bodice of her dress. They were discreetly covered by white silk ruffles. Such breasts were not meant to he crudely fondled, Marcus thought. They had been fashioned for a connoisseur of fine things, a lover endowed with an artist's slender, sensitive fingers.

He absently flexed his own sturdy, callused fingers. The fact that he possessed the hands of a farmer did not mean that he did not enjoy touching fine, soft things.

Iphiginia was small and slender. The skirts of her high-waisted gown drifted airily down over what was clearly a very narrow waist. The wispy silk barely hinted at the enticing shape of womanly hips and rounded thighs.

No wonder she had captured the fancy of the ton, Marcus thought. She certainly had his full attention.

He was intrigued by the mysterious Mrs. Bright, more so than he had been with any other woman for longer than he cared to. recall.

He was also half-aroused, he realized abruptly. He could feel the dull ache of awakening desire in his loins. Perhaps it was not so surprising. It had been four months since he had last been intimate with a woman and Iphiginia had been on his mind constantly for the past two days. He had speculated on nothing else except his unknown paramour during the entire journey back to London.

It occurred to Marcus that if he had deliberately set,out to find an interesting new mistress, he could not have done better than Iphiginia Bright.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Iphiginia said, obviously embarrassed by her lengthy commentary on his journal article. "I expect I am boring you. It is not as though you are not perfectly familiar with your own theories on the use of timber pilings in foundations."

"Perhaps we should get back to the main topic," Marcus said smoothly. "But first you must give me your address so that I can convey it to my coachman."

Iphiginia cleared her throat. "My address?" "It would he useful, considering the fact that I am attempting to escort You home at the moment."

"You are?" "Given the role you have led everyone to believe that I play in your life," Marcus said, "it is only natural that I take you home after the ball."

"But-" "It is expected," Marcus emphasized. "People will wonder if I do not claim the privilege."

"You're quite certain that is the normal thing to do?" "Quite certain."

"Oh." Iphiginia caught her soft lower lip between her very white teeth, apparently contemplating the matter.

She came to a decision. "Very well. I have a town house in Morning Rose Square. Number Five."

Marcus was briefly interested in that bit of news. "Morning Rose Square was only recently completed, was it not? The architect did a superb job of combining classical elements with a design that is comfortable and suited to the English climate. The houses were well constructed and sold quickly, as I recall."

Iphiginia looked surprised. "You seem to know a great deal about it."

"The project aroused my curiosity because it made money." Marcus rose and knocked on the trapdoor of the carriage. "A great many speculation investments of that sort do not. I have known any number of people involved in such financial arrangements to go bankrupt."

The trapdoor opened. "Aye, m'lord?" the coachman called.

"Morning Rose Square, Dinks. Number Five." "Very good, m'lord." Dinks allowed the trap to fall back into place.

Marcus dropped back into his scat. "Perhaps we should get on with your explanations, Mrs. Bright."

"Yes, of course." Iphiginia straightened her shoulders. "Where to begin? First, let me tell you how excessively relieved I am to discover that you are alive, my lord."

He considered her through half-closed eyes. "You mentioned something to that effect back in the Fenwicks' ballroom. There was some doubt in your mind?"

"Oh, yes. A great deal of doubt. We assumed you had been murdered, you see."

"Murdered?" He wondered if he had gotten involved with a madwoman.

"Yes, my lord, murdered. It was the reason why I decided to take the desperate measure of masquerading as your mistress."

"And just who did you believe was responsible for my demise?" Marcus asked coldly. "One of your other intimate friends?"

She gave him a shocked look. "Of course not, my lord. Oh, dear, this is all so complicated. I assure you that I do not have the sort of friends who would even dream of resorting to murder."

"I am relieved to hear that."

"Aunt Zoe is a bit theatrical by nature and my cousin Amelia can be rather grim at times, but I believe that I can safely say neither of them would ever murder anyone."

"I shall take your word for it, Mrs. Bright."

She sighed. "I realize that this must all he extremely confusing to you."

"I shall do my best to muddle through. Perhaps my excellent brain will assist me."

She gave him a glowing smile of approval. "You are doing very well under the circumstances, my lord."

"I had come to the same conclusion."

She winced at the sarcasm. "Ah, yes. Yes, indeed. Well, then, to get on with it. We thought the blackmailer had done you in, you see."

"Blackmailer? This grows more absurd by the moment. What blackmailer?"

That gave Iphiginia pause. "You mean to say that you are not being blackmailed, sir?"

The question irritated him. "Do I appear to he the sort of man who would pay blackmail, Mrs. Bright?"

"No, my lord. And that is precisely why we believed you had been murdered. Because you refused to pay, you see.

"Continue, Mrs. Bright," Marcus ordered evenly. "You have a long way to go before any of this becomes clear."

"My aunt received a note from the villain informing us that you had been dispatched as a lesson to others who refused to pay. The note implied that it was only a matter of time before Society realized you were not spending the month at one of your estates, but had, instead, disappeared for good." "Good Lord." "You must admit that you had vanished from Society at the height of the Season, sir. Most unusual."

I was at my estate in Yorkshire," Marcus retorted. "Not in a shallow, unmarked grave. Madam, this is ridiculous. I have had enough of this game. I want the truth and I want it before we reach Morning Rose Square."

She frowned. "I am attempting to relate the truth, sir. There is no call to be rude. Now, kindly cease interrupting me. As I said, my aunt had every reason to believe that you had been murdered and that if she did not meet the blackmailer's demands, she would he next."

"She paid the blackmail?" Marcus demanded. "Naturally. She was quite frightened. I learned all this the day after she had paid. I had just arrived here in London after a year on the Continent. My cousin Amelia was with me. We called upon Aunt Zoe and discovered her dire straits. I immediately devised a plan to find the blackmailer."

Marcus was beyond amazement now. "You hoped to find him by pretending to be my mistress?"

"Exactly." Iphiginia gave him another bright, approving smile. "At the time, I believed that I was hunting not only a blackmailer but a great villain who was capable of murder. You can imagine my concern."

"I am not dead, Mrs. Bright." "Yes, I can see that," she said patiently. "It does confuse the issue, does it not?"

"Not unduly, I trust." "I became your mistress in the eyes of the world so that I could mingle with your associates and acquaintances. My plan was to make discreet inquiries of them in an effort to decide who might have murdered you."

"Very thoughtful of you to try to hunt down the villain who had murdered me."

"I must admit that I did not undertake the deception in order to avenge you, my lord."

"I'm crushed." Iphiginia's eyes widened with dismay. "I do not mean to sound uncharitable or unfeeling, sir, but you must recall that when I first learned of this villainy, I did not even know you. I had not yet had a chance to study your nature."

"That would explain your lack of feeling, I suppose." "But I didn't lack feeling, sir," she said quickly. "On the contrary. I assure you, I was exceedingly sorry that you had come to such a dreadful end." She hesitated and then added in a small burst of honesty, "In a rather general way, if you see what I mean."

He restrained a smile with effort. "I'm grateful for whatever compassion you were able to spare. There are those who would not have been the least bit sorry to learn of my demise, not even in a rather general way."

"Nonsense. I'm quite certain that once Society had learned that you had been murdered, everyone would have been properly horrified."

"I'd advise you not to place any large wagers on that. What the devil did you think you'd learn as my mistress?"

Iphiginia leaned forward. She was bubbling over with enthusiasm now. "I reasoned that the blackmailer had to be someone close to you, my lord. Someone who knew a secret so dreadful that he expected you to pay blackmail rather than allow it to he revealed."

Marcus raised one brow. "And that same person would also have to he privy to some grave secret of your aunt's. Is that what you thought?"

"How very perceptive of you, sir. That is precisely what I concluded. But I went one step further. I realized that whoever knew such intimate secrets about both your past and my aunt's also had to know of your plans to he out of Town this month." Iphiginia paused meaningfully. "The last blackmail note arrived the very day you disappeared, you see."

Marcus felt the old, familiar twist of curiosity. It temporarily swamped common sense in a way that he would never have allowed physical passion to do. "You reasoned that there could not be too many people who would have links to both me and your aunt, is that it?"

"Precisely." Iphiginia gave him an unabashed look of admiration. "You are, indeed, very quick, my lord, just as I had suspected."

This time Marcus flatly refused to he seduced by her glowing respect for his brain. He stuck to the issue at hand. "So you posed as my mistress in order to gain entree to my circle of acquaintances."

"It seemed the only thing to do under the circumstances, although I admit that I was somewhat daunted by the task I had set myself."

"I find that hard to believe, Mrs. Bright,". Marcus said dryly. "I cannot conceive of you being daunted by anything or anyone."

"In most cases, you would he correct," she agreed without a trace of humility. — "But in this instance, I knew that I could not possibly hope to live up to the expectations people would have of me."

"Expectations?" "You know very well what I mean, sir. From what I could gather, your previous mistresses have been remarkably lovely widows who possessed a certain, shall we say, flair?" A wistful expression appeared in Iphiginia's eyes. "They were all very dashing, everyone said."

"Everyone?" "My Aunt Zoe is up on all the latest gossip. It was not difficult to unearth a considerable number of details concerning your previous paramours."

"That is the sort of news that could keep a man awake nights."

Iphiginia gave him an embarrassed look. "I was not certain that I could compete, if you see what I mean."

He surveyed her pristine white attire. There was no need to inform her that gossip had — always exaggerated both the number of his affairs and the exotic qualities of his mistresses. "So you set out to create an illusion that would take Society by surprise and thereby create an entirely new set of expectations."

"I wanted to create an image that was so outrageous it would cause your friends and acquaintances to use their imagination to turn me into a far more mysterious and dashing creature than I actually am."

"My compliments, Mrs. Bright. It appears you were successful."

"Thus far, my little deception has worked rather well," Iphiginia admitted with obvious pride.

If she was exerting any effort at all to appear modest, she was failing spectacularly, Marcus decided. "I'm certainly impressed. Even awestruck."

Iphiginia must have beard the cool amusement in his tone. Her brief flash of pride dissolved at once into a disgruntled look. "I realize that, in your eyes, I am a complete failure in my role as your new paramour."

"I wouldn't say that." She glanced down at her demure white silk gown. Red stained her elegantly sculpted cheekbones. "I know that I do not appear to he at all the sort of woman with whom you usually consort."

"My dear Mrs. Bright, as anyone will tell you, I have never favored the usual. I much prefer the unusual."

"You're certain that you should be taking me home like, this?" Iphiginia asked with another uneasy glance out into the night.

"You know very well that it is quite the thing for a gentleman to escort his paramour home after an evening's round of social affairs. In our particular situation, it would he considered strange if I did not."

"I suppose so." "Now, if you were an unmarried young lady in the market for a husband, it would be quite a different matter, of course." He watched her face closely. "But you are an unattached widow, are you not?"

"Don't be ridiculous, sir." She concentrated on the view of the night-darkened streets. "What else would I be?"

"Exactly." No innocent or respectable spinster intent on guarding her reputation would have dared undertake such an astounding masquerade, Marcus thought. "Even if you were not already posing as my mistress, there would be nothing to stop me from escorting you home tonight."

"No, but-" "The widows of the ton are the most privileged of ladies, are they not? Financially independent, free of the encumbrance of a jealous husband, they may form whatever liaisons they wish, so long as they are reasonably discreet."

"I realize that a widow has a great deal more freedom than an unmarried female, sir. Indeed, I am not arguing that point. But the thing is-" "Yes? What is the thing?" She turned to face him once more with a resolute expression. "The thing is, I have put a great deal of effort into creating an image, if you will. Part of the illusion consists of a certain air of elusiveness."

"So I have been told." "My lord, until tonight I have not allowed any gentleman to see me home."

"Ah." He wondered why he was so pleased to learn that small fact. "A nice touch."

"I have kept to that habit during the entire time that I have been posing as your mistress."

"Lady Starlight." She scowled. "I beg your pardon?" "I am told that they call you the untouchable and unobtainable Lady Starlight. You are seen as a glittering midnight star who lures and entices but remains just out of reach while she searches for a replacement for me in her bed."

Iphiginia opened her mouth, closed it again, and then opened it once more. Her voice, when she finally spoke, sounded breathless, as though she had been running a great distance. "You know how Society is when it comes to sticking labels on people, sir. Calling me Lady Starlight was a bit much, I'll grant you. Nevertheless-"

"Nevertheless, in this case the appellation is apparently quite appropriate."

She looked briefly disconcerted. "It is?" Marcus realized that he was enjoying himself. They were playing a cat-and-mouse game and he got to be the cat. "Definitely. Furthermore, you are in luck. As it happens, I have recently made a study of elusive, untouchable stars. There are ways to capture the light. If a man is very clever, he can hold it in the palm of his hand."

"I do not understand, sir." "No, I don't suppose you do yet. But you soon will. In the meantime, you must allow me to retain some air of mystery, Mrs. Bright. I am known for it, you see."

She eyed him speculatively. "You are going to be difficult, aren't you?"

"We shall see." "I was afraid of this. Would you mind telling me if you are truly very angry about my impersonation, my lord?"

"You cannot determine that for yourself "No, actually, I cannot. They say you are a deep one. I begin to understand what everyone means by that. Even after my extensive study of your nature, I still find there is much I do not know about you."

"I suppose I should be grateful for that small favor," he muttered.

"There is no need for sarcasm," she said with an injured air.

In the golden glow cast by the coach lamps, Marcus could tell that, although she was putting a remarkably good face on the situation, she was really quite anxious. Iphiginia sat very stiffly. Her huge, shadowed, sea green eyes flickered frequently to the coach window. Marcus had a hunch that she was surreptitiously checking their location in order to verify that she was, indeed, being driven straight home. She had a death grip on her white fan.

Marcus was satisfied that Iphiginia was not nearly cool and composed as she tried to appear. He refused to feel any sympathy for her. Considering what she had put,him through earlier this evening and what was yet to come, she deserved to suffer a bit. She had made certain that the pair of them would he the choicest morsel of conversation at every breakfast table tomorrow morning and in every club in St. James tomorrow afternoon.

I congratulate you again, Mrs. Bright." Marcus inclined his head in a small gesture of mocking respect. "It is not every woman who could have duped Society into thinking she was my latest paramour."

She bit her lip. "Thank you." "Quite a fascinating accomplishment, actually." He would never forget his first glimpse of her in the Fenwicks' ballroom. In his view, Iphiginia had succeeded in making every other woman in the room appear either overdressed, underdressed, or gaudy. Marcus could not put his finger on why she looked so right, but he had been in the world long enough to recognize a woman with an intuitive artistic sense of style. It had nothing to do with her gowns or her accessories. It had everything to do with how she wore them.

"The choice of virginal white for your attire was a brilliant notion," Marcus continued. "Outrageous, but brilliant."

She hesitated, as if uncertain whether he was mocking her. Then she smiled tremulously. "One of the reasons I chose to go about in white is because you are said to favor black in your own attire and in many of your personal possessions." With her gloved hand she indicated the elegant black carriage with its ebony fittings. "The rumors were accurate, I see."

"Were you working on the hypothesis that I would he attracted to my opposite?"

Iphiginia considered that very seriously. "I do not subscribe to that particular theory myself. I believe likeminded people are drawn together, not true opposites. But I knew Society would jump to the wrong conclusion. Most people think that those of opposing natures are attracted to each other."

"And it was Society that needed to be convinced." "Aunt Zoe feared my plan would not work, but I assured her that it was our only hope."

"Ah yes. Your little scheme to catch a blackmailer. I had almost forgotten about it."

She glowered at him. "You do not believe a word I,have said, do you, sir? I knew that you were very intelligent and everyone said you were quite arrogant about the fact, but I had not realized that you would he so stubborn."

He chose to ignore the observation. "Tell me about your Aunt Zoe."

"What do you wish to know?" "There are a number of Zoes in Society. Which one is your aunt?"

Iphiginia's brows snapped together. "She is Lady Guthrie. I must warn you that she and I have kept our family connection a secret, however. I felt it would be easier to carry but the masquerade if no one knew the truth. If people knew that I was her niece, it might give rise to too many questions about me, you see."

"Of course," Marcus murmured. "It was essential that you remain a mystery to the Polite World."

"Extremely essential, sir. One question would soon lead to another and I might have been unmasked before I had accomplished my goal. At the very least the blackmailer might have realized that I was not your mistress."

"I see." "Society believes Zoe and I to be friends, but nothing more. That explanation provides an excuse for us to he seen together rather frequently."

Marcus mentally ran through a list of the people who moved in his world. His memory was excellent. He was quite certain he had never met Zoe, Lady Guthrie. "I seem to recall that a certain Lord Guthrie belonged to one or two of my clubs. I believe he died a year ago."

"Aunt Zoe is Guthrie's widow."

"I do not believe that I have had the pleasure of meeting her."

"No. That is the curious thing about all this," Iphiginia said quickly. "Aunt Zoe told me that the two of you had never been introduced. She has seen you from a distance at parties and balls and Guthrie had mentioned your name in a casual way, but that was all."

"Yet your blackmailer claimed that we were both on his list of victims?"

"Yes. Rather odd, don't you think?"

"I find this entire situation rather odd."

"My lord, I swear to you, this is not a joke or a game. There really is a blackmailer out there somewhere and he is threatening my aunt. I concluded that there must be some connection between your circle of acquaintances and that of my aunt's."

"You're forgetting one thing here, Mrs. Bright," Marcus said calmly. "I am not being blackmailed."

She scowled. "You're quite certain of that, my lord?" "It is not the sort thing that would slip one's mind." Iphiginia's soft mouth firmed. "No, I suppose not.

But why would the blackmailer make reference to you when he threatened my aunt?"

Marcus glanced out into the busy night streets. "The reference, if it was made, was obviously a ruse designed to terrify your aunt and convince her to pay the extortion money.

"The reference was indeed made, sir," Iphiginia insisted.

"Tell me, just how far did you get in your investigation?"

"Well, as to that, I was making considerable progress," she said eagerly. "I have already succeeded in searching Mr. Darrow's and Lord Judson's studies."

"You what?" She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical glance. "I said I have had opportunities to search Darrow's and Judson's studies. I took advantage of invitations that I received to soirees that were held in their homes. I managed to slip into their studies in the course of the evening and search their desks."

She was serious, he realized. "Damnation, woman, are you mad? I don't believe this. Why would you want to search their studies in the first place? What did you hope to discover?"

"Black wax and a seal engraved with a phoenix," she said succinctly. "Both were used to seal the blackmail notes that Aunt Zoe received."

"Bloody hell." Marcus was too stunned by her audacity to think clearly for a few seconds. He finally collected his thoughts. "Black scaling wax is not uncommon. I use it myself."

"I know, but you are unusual in that you use it for your routine correspondence, my lord. Most people employ black wax only for mourning. And you must admit that a phoenix seal is uncommon. In fact, the use of a seal, any sort of seal, is, in itself, distinctive. One would think that the average blackmailer would use a simple wafer to seal his letters."

"Is there such a thing as an average blackmailer?" "I am serious, sir. Black wax and a seal engraved with a phoenix would constitute strong evidence against the blackmailer."

"So you went looking for both?" It was simply too outrageous to he believed. The lady was surely lying, which he had suspected from the start. That was the only explanation, Marcus concluded.

And he had thought he was an inventor of some talent, he thought wryly. Iphiginia Bright could give him lessons.

"Unfortunately, I have not yet had a chance to search the studies or libraries of the others."

"Which others?" "The men with whom you frequently play cards, of course."

"You intend to search the libraries or studies of every man with whom I have played cards?" Marcus was curious to see how elaborate her tangle of lies would prove to be.

"No, only those who were also in the habit of playing cards with Lord Guthrie when he was alive," Iphiginia said crisply. She held up a hand and ticked off familiar names. "Lartmore, Darrow, Pettigrew, and Judson. They are the four men who link your household and that of my aunt's."

"Because they were known to play cards at one time or another with both me and Guthrie?"

Iphiginia sighed. "It was the only link I could discover between your circle and that of my aunt's. I concluded that someone who knew Lord Guthrie had somehow learned Aunt Zoe's secret. Perhaps from a servant. That same person also knew a great deal about you."

"But not a secret worthy of blackmail," Marcus pointed out. "I told you, I am not being blackmailed."

"Perhaps not, my lord, but the blackmailer was sufficiently well acquainted with you to know that you intended to he out of Town for a considerable length of time."

"That was not a secret, either." "No?" Iphiginia gave him a challenging look. "Virtually everything you do is a secret to most people, sir. Think back. How many people actually knew your plans to go to your estate for a month?"

"Any number of people," Marcus replied easily. "My man of affairs, for example. My servants."

"And the men with whom you played whist shortly before you left London?" Iphiginia asked blandly.

"Hell and damnation." Marcus experienced a grudging sense of admiration. The lady was clever, indeed. "You really did make a thorough study of me, did you not?"

"Yes, sir, I did. I am very good at research. Among the things I discovered almost immediately was that-you had played cards with Lartmore, Darrow, Pettigrew, and Judson at one of your clubs the day before you left London."

"And Lady Guthrie confirmed that they had also played a few hands with her late husband."

"Not only that," Iphiginia said with great satisfaction, "but they had played cards quite regularly with him for nearly twenty years before he died, sir. That number is important because my aunt's great secret dates back eighteen years.»

Marcus smiled slowly. "Brilliant, Mrs. Bright. Absolutely brilliant. You have concocted a truly amazing tale to explain your astonishing behavior. I am consumed with admiration for your inventiveness and originality."

Her face fell. "You believe that I have invented the entire thing?"

"Yes, madam, I do." Marcus held up a hand. "But don't let that stop you. I assure you, I am enjoying the play to the utmost. You are a captivating actress of exceptional talent. I feel privileged to have a minor role in the performance."

Confusion and a deep wariness flickered in her eyes. "You do not believe me, but you are not angry?"

"To he perfectly truthful, I'm not, yet certain just how I feel about the entire affair. I am still pondering the matter."

"I see," she muttered. "Do you generally take a long time to consider matters before you decide how you feel about them?"

He smiled at the note of asperity in her voice. "You sound like a governess demanding a response from a slow pupil. The answer is that I have a rule against altering a decision once I have made it. But the corollary to that rule is that I gather 0 the facts first before making my decision."

She brightened. "I am well aware of your famous rules, sir. May I take it that you are still gathering the facts in this instance?" "Why not?" "That is a great relief, sir." She gave him her shatteringly brilliant smile. "I have faith in your intellectual nature. I know that once you realize that I am telling the truth, you will he only too happy to assist me in my efforts to discover the blackmailers

Marcus felt the carriage rumble to a halt. "Rest assured, Mrs. Bright, I shall take pleasure in learning everything there is to know about this entire situation."

"Of course." She seemed blithely unconcerned now. "That is your nature."

"Do you know," Marcus observed as his footman opened the carriage door, "I do, not believe that anyone has ever before set out to study my nature. Did you find the task interesting?"

"Oh, yes, my lord." Her eyes glowed. as she allowed herself to he assisted down onto the pavement. "It was every bit as fascinating as the ruins of Pompeii."

"Nice to know I can hold my own with a classical ruin." Marcus got out of the carriage and took her arm. He glanced up at Dinks. "I shall be a while."

Dinks, who had been with him for years, nodded with an air of cheerful complacency. "Aye, m'lord. We'll he waitin' for ye."

Iphiginia glanced sharply at Marcus as he walked her up the steps of Number Five, Morning Rose Square. "What did you mean by that? You won't be but a moment.»

"Come, now, my dear. Surely you intend to invite me inside for a brandy?" Marcus glanced with approval at the new gas lamps that had been installed in front of each town house on the street.

"Inside?" Iphiginia's voice rose in astonishment. "Do not be ridiculous, sir. I have no intention of allowing you into the house at this hour."

"We have much to discuss, Mrs. Bright, and I can think of no more convenient time or place for our conversation." Marcus raised his hand to give the brass knocker a sharp rap.

"No, wait, do not knock," Iphiginia said hurriedly. "I have instructed my housekeeper not to wait up for me. I have my key in my reticule."

Marcus held out his hand for the key. She hesitated and then handed it to him. He took it without a word and opened the door.

Iphiginia stepped quickly ahead of him into the dark hall. She grabbed a candle that had been left on a nearby table, lit it quickly, and swung around to confront him. "Sir, I really do not think that you should come inside."

He deliberately put one booted foot over the threshold and smiled. "If you wish your illusion to continue to withstand Society's scrutiny," he said very softly, "then I fear you must allow me to stay here for a time tonight. It is expected, you see."

"Expected?" She stared at him with dawning hope. "Do you mean that you're willing to allow me to continue posing as your mistress?"

"Why not?" Marcus moved through the door and closed it with a solid thud. "You can hardly carry out your inquiries if your identity is revealed at this point. If you are unmasked, you will be cast out of Society and there will be no way to reenter it."

"Very true. Sir, I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I realize that you do not yet believe my explanations. I want you to know that I find your open-minded consideration of the situation extremely admirable. It confirms everything I have learned about you."

"It's quite all right, Mrs. Bright. I am willing to go along with the masquerade for a while, at least until I have satisfied all of my questions. Is this your library?" Marcus walked through the doorway on the left side of the hall.

"Yes, it is." Iphiginia picked up her skirts and hastened after him. "My lord, this is really most generous of you.

"I know." Marcus could see nothing but dark, looming shapes. He aimed for what he assumed was the fireplace.

"As you are apparently not one of the blackmailer's victims after all, you really do not have any obligation to assist me in my inquiries."

"I ceased doing anything out of a sense of obligation years ago. I found it rather pointless. However, occasionally I do things because I am cursed with a deep sense of curiosity about the oddest… Damnation." Marcus winced as his booted toe rammed a large, unyielding object.

"Do be careful, my lord." Iphiginia held her candle aloft. "This room is a bit crowded at the moment."

"So I see." The taper threw dancing shadows across a chamber full of broken statuary, sepulchral masks, strangely designed urns, and huge vases.

The furniture was even more bizarre. Chairs with clawed feet and griffin-headed arms were arranged near the windows. A massive Grecian-style sofa finished in green velvet and gold fringe sat grandly in front of the fireplace. It looked sensual and pagan in the candlelight. The tables placed on either side of the sofa were decorated with lions' heads and sphinxes.

"I told you that my cousin and I have only recently returned from a most educational tour of the Continent," Iphiginia said. "I purchased a great many antiquities during our journey."

Marcus peered down at the jagged chunk of marble which had marred the glossy polish on the toe of his black Hessian boot. here was just enough light from Iphiginia's candle to see that it was a portion of a statue of some mythical winged beast. "What the devil is this?"

"I bought it in a shop in Rome." Iphiginia set the candle down on her desk. There was a scratching sound as she fit a lamp. "Fascinating, is it not? I made several other equally interesting purchases at the same shop. I'm especially fond of this Roman centurion."

The centurion, Marcus saw, was nude, except for his helmet, sword, and shield.

"It looks as though you've transported a complete archaeological ruin into your library," Marcus said.

"Yes, I am rather pleased with the effect." Iphiginia glanced around with satisfaction. She drew her gloved fingertips lovingly along the arm of the naked centurion. "It both excites the senses and stimulates the intellectual faculties at the same time. Don't you agree?"

Marcus could not take his eyes off her fingers as they glided over marble muscles. He felt an instant and dramatic effect on his already stirring manhood, the centurion, he reflected, be was not made of stone.

"What do you intend to do with all of this, Mrs. Bright?"

She leaned pensively against the statue, one elbow propped on the warrior's shoulder. She rested her chin on the heel of her hand. "I'm not entirely certain yet. At the moment I am merely studying these items and making sketches."

"Studying them?" Marcus watched her skins drift over the statue's hare thigh. He could almost feel the silk on his own skin.

"My goal is to produce a pattern book of ancient motifs and designs that can be used as a guide to decorate both the interior and exterior of houses," she confided. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Oblivious to the effect she was having on Marcus, she nestled one hip intimately against the statue.

"I see." An almost overpowering restlessness came over Marcus. In a vain attempt to alleviate it, he untied his cravat and inhaled deeply to clear his head.

He promptly caught a whiff of Iphiginia's rose scented perfume and his senses became more clouded than ever.

"So much of what passes for accurate archaeological design these days is quite misguided and frequently wrong," she said.

"I've noticed." "Have you?" She gave him a pleased look. "Yes." His gaze slid over the gentle swell of Iphiginia's thigh where it fit warmly against the cold marble of the statue. He had not been pushed this close to the edge of his control in years.

"My pattern book of classical designs will be inspired directly from actual observations and sketches of genuine ruins such as these." Iphiginia waved a graceful hand to indicate the jumble of artifacts around the room. "That way fashionable people who wish to decorate in the antique manner will be assured that their architects and decorators adhere to the original version of whichever classical style they choose, whether it be Greek or Roman, Egyptian or Etruscan."

"It sounds an ambitious project, Mrs. Bright." "Yes, it is. But I am quite looking forward to it. I have spent the past year collecting these items and as you can imagine, I am very eager to get to work on my pattern book."

"Naturally." He studied the creamy color of her skin in the lamplight and wondered how it would taste. He started toward her.

"But first things first." Iphiginia straightened away from the centurion. "I must deal with my aunt's blackmail problem before I can begin my project. You're quite certain that my impersonation will not cause you any undue problems?"

"On the contrary. I'm certain it will cause me no end of trouble." Marcus reached out and took hold of her bare shoulders. Her skin was incredibly warm and soft beneath his hard, callused hands. She did not flinch from his touch. Indeed, she seemed momentarily mesmerized.

"Marcus? I mean, my lord?" She touched her lower lip with the tip of her small tongue. "I do not wish to cause trouble for you, sir." She sounded breathless again. Her eyes were deep and enticing whirlpools in a bottomless sea.

"I stand ready to put myself at your disposal, Mrs. Bright."

"That is very kind of you, sir. May I ask why you are willing to be so helpful if you do not entirely believe my explanations about the blackmailer?"

"As it happens, I am in need of a mistress." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as he had been aching to kiss her since he had first seen her in the Fenwicks' ballroom.

"Marcus? I mean, my lord?" She touched her lower hp with the tip of her small tongue. "I do not wish to cause trouble for you, sir." She sounded breathless again. Her eyes were deep and enticing whirlpools in a bottomless sea.

"I stand ready to put myself at your disposal, Mrs. Bright."

"That is very kind of you, sir. May I ask why you are willing to be so helpful if you do not entirely believe my explanations about the blackmailer?"

"As it happens, I am in need of a mistress." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as he had been aching to kiss her since he had first seen her in the Fenwicks' ballroom.