Mistress

CHAPTER FIVE

I WILL SEE MRS. BRIGHT HOME," MARCUS SAID AS HE escorted Iphiginia, Zoe, and Amelia outside the premises of Hornby and Smith. "She and I have one or two matters to discuss in private."

Zoe and Amelia glanced at each other and then looked at Iphiginia.

"Do not concern yourselves," Iphiginia said quickly. "Take my carriage. I shall see you both later."

"You're quite certain?" Amelia gave Marcus a stony stare.

"Yes, Amelia." Iphiginia did not care for the rough edge in Marcus's voice any more than Amelia or Zoe did. She thought it best, however, not to make an issue out of it right there in the middle of Pall Mall.

"Very well." Zoe gave Marcus one last uneasy look and then nodded at Amelia. "Let us be off."

Marcus watched Amelia and Zoe walk toward Iphiginia's small, delicate white carriage. The airy, graceful equipage was trimmed with gilt and horsed with two white mares. The animals' braided manes were adorned with white plumes. The gleaming harness sparkled in the spring sun. The coachman wore white livery trimmed with gold buttons.

"Your carriage, I presume?" Marcus said to Iphiginia. "How did you guess?"

"It looks like something out of a bloody fairy tale." "I thought it appropriate. From the description I was given of your equipage, I understood it to look like something a wicked troll might drive. I wanted to provide a counterpoint.»

"A wicked troll, eh? What does that make you, my dear Mrs. Bright? A fairy princess?"

"I assure you, I am no fairy princess." "Thank God for that much." Marcus tightened his grasp on Iphiginia's arm. He started to stride swiftly along the broad promenade of the fashionable shopping street. "I have enough problems at the moment."

Iphiginia dug in the heels of her white kid half boots. "If you wish to discuss your problems with me, which I presume is your intention, you'll have to slow your pace, my lord. I do not intend to gallop the length of Pall Mall with you."

Marcus scowled, but he shortened his stride. "Enough of this nonsense. Who are you and what the devil do you think you're about?"

"I beg your pardon?" Iphiginia busied herself with the act of unfurling her lacy white parasol. "I do not comprehend your tone or your meaning, my lord. I explained everything to you last night."

"Last night," Marcus said, "I believed you to be playing some clever game in order to make a place for yourself in Society."

"Yes, I know you did." "This morning it was forcibly brought to my attention that you are involved in something other than an amusing masquerade. I wish to know precisely what it is you are about.»

Iphiginia tried to be patient. "I told you, sir. I am attempting to discover the person who is blackmailing my aunt. Nothing has changed. What has overset you so this morning?"

"I am not overset. You make it sound as though I were having the vapors. I am bloody furious."

"Oh."

He shot her a frozen look. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

Iphiginia thought about it. "If it would not he too much trouble, my lord, I would like to know what it is that has, ah, outraged you."

He hesitated, as though debating how much to tell her. "I have just learned that a close friend of mine is being blackmailed."

Iphiginia stared at him, astonished. "Good heavens. Someone other than my aunt is also being blackmailed after all? This is very interesting news, indeed, my lord."

"Is it not?"

"Sir, I do not understand your sarcasm. I should think you would he alarmed to learn that the tale I told you may well he true and that a friend of yours is also a blackmailer's victim. Why are you angry with me?"

"I suggest that you construct a reasonable hypothesis to explain my irritation."

"I beg your pardon?"

"A guess, Mrs. Bright. Make a guess."

Iphiginia's mouth dropped open. Now he was being more than sarcastic. He was becoming impossibly rude. She swiftly composed her expression when she noticed three lounging dandies gazing raptly at her. She blocked their view with her parasol.

"This is ridiculous, Masters. Why are you annoyed with me?"

"Because I have come to the obvious conclusion that you are very likely the blackmailer."

"What on earth?" Iphiginia came to a complete halt. She yanked her arm free and whirled about to confront Marcus. "You go too far, sir. What do you think I am?"

"A clever, scheming little adventuress who has gone one step beyond the pale." Marcus's voice was soft, but it was weighted with steel. "Last night I found your silly masquerade amusing."

"My lord, please-" "I was even going to go along with the charade for a whites I will admit that you are far and away the most interesting female who has crossed my path in some time. However, this morning when I learned the truth, I decided that you were no longer nearly so amusing, madam."

"No longer amusing? Of all the stupid, idiotic, offensive things to say. You clearly do not know what you are talking about. I will not stand here and listen to your accusations, sir." Iphiginia turned on her heel. She could bear the tittering laughs of the lounging dandies.

Marcus put out a hand and caught her arm. "Not so fast. I have one or two questions to put to you, Iphiginia'»

"I have better things to do than answer your insulting questions."

"Such as?" "Such as find the blackmailer," Iphiginia hissed. "Let me go, my lord, or I promise you, I shall scream."

"They'd take it, we are not in Drury Lane. Kindly cease the theatrics." Marcus brought her forcibly around so that she was once again obliged to face him. "Unless, of course, you want news of this little scene to be all over Town this evening?"

"Why should that concern me? Everyone in Town is already talking about us, my lord."

"You must believe me when I tell you that the gossip can get a great deal worse than it already is. If you persist in quarreling with me in the middle of a public thoroughfare, I promise you that it will."

Iphiginia flushed. "Is that a threat, Masters?" "It is. If you do not maintain at least the pretense of being a lady, I am not going to continue acting the gentleman. I swear, if you try to walk away from me, I shall put you over my shoulder and carry you off to someplace where we can continue this discussion without an audience.

Iphiginia was seething. "You would not dare." "Would you care to place a wager on that, Iphiginia?" he asked much too softly. "It was one thing for me to carry a swooning lady out of the Fenwicks' ballroom last night. It will be quite another if I haul you off as though you were a sack of coal this afternoon."

Iphiginia contemplated her options for a few seconds. She was acutely aware of the growing number of stares aimed in her direction. More than one head had turned. More than one ear was discreetly cocked in an attempt to overhear the fascinating exchange that was taking place between Masters and his new paramour.

It was obvious from the ruthless set of his jaw and the unyielding line of his mouth that Marcus was in a dangerous mood. He was apparently willing to stage a humiliating quarrel for the entertainment of the fashionable shoppers in Pall Mall if Iphiginia did not accede to his wishes.

"Very well, my lord." She gave him a brittle smile as she placed her gloved fingertips lightly on his arm. "If you insist on playing the role of the wicked troll, so be it."

"An excellent decision. I have often been cast in the role of the troll and I assure you I am capable of giving a truly electrifying performance."

"I do not doubt it for a moment. I would have you know, sir, that during my travels on the Continent this past year I was never once obliged to deal with this sort of ungentlemanly conduct. There was a nasty little street thief in Rome who had better manners."

"Perhaps one day I shall have the opportunity to take lessons. They do say that travel is broadening. Come, we have drawn enough attention." Marcus's fingers closed more tightly around her arm. He resumed the brisk pace along Pall Mall.

"People are staring at us." "I should think you would be accustomed to it by now. Tell me why I should not conclude that you are the blackmailer."

"First tell me why you came to the conclusion that I was.

Marcus slanted her an unreadable glance. "You are an exceedingly clever female' You have made a study of me that was so astute it enabled you to fool the ton into believing that you are my mistress."

"We all have our little skills." "Your particular skills convince me that you could have delved just as deeply into the background of others and perhaps come up with suitable material for blackmail."

Iphiginia nearly choked on her outrage. "Material such as that which is being used to blackmail your friend?"

"Precisely." "I would never do such a thing." Iphiginia realized that she was hurt as well as angry and she did not know quite why. Marcus's alarming conclusions about her were not unreasonable under the circumstances. Nevertheless, she felt wounded by them. "If you knew me better, my lord, you would not make such accusations."

"I am, but I do not know you very well at all, do I? Not nearly as well as you appear to know me. And that, madam, has finally begun to worry me."

"I do not see how I can persuade you of my innocence, nor will I lower myself to even attempt to do so."

"Then we have a problem on our hands, my dear." Marcus inclined his head a hare half inch at an acquaintance who nodded from the doorway of a snuff shop.

Iphiginia pretended to focus on some gloves that were displayed in a shop window. She could fed the avid curiosity in the gaze of the man who stood in front of the snuff shop. Indeed, she could feel a dozen pairs of eyes boring into her. I

There was very little privacy here in Town. Anonymity was impossible, especially for any woman whose name was linked with that of the Earl of Masters.

It was almost as bad as living in Deepford, Iphiginia thought resentfully. But at least here in London she would not he subjected to lectures on propriety from the vicar or from the parents of her sister's in-laws-to-be.

She merely had to listen to such lectures from Marcus.

"You are making a much more difficult problem out of this affair than is necessary," Iphiginia said forcefully. "But then, something tells me that you are a very difficult man.

"Regardless of how unpleasant this problem is for you, madam, you may rest assured that until it is resolved, you and I are going to be spending a great deal of time in each other's company."

"What is that supposed to mean, my lord?" "It means that until I am convinced that you are not involved in this blackmail scheme, I intend to keep you very near at hand." Marcus smiled without any trace of amusement. "Where I can keep an eye on you. How fortunate for me that you have chosen to masquerade as my mistress. It provides the perfect excuse for me to stay very close to you."

Iphiginia bristled. "What if I decide that I no longer wish to continue the masquerade?"

"It is far too late to change your mind about your role in this charming little play." Marcus acknowledged another acquaintance with a faint tilt of his head. "You are too deeply into the part."

"If that is the case, I give you fair warning that I fully intend to proceed with my inquiries. I am determined to discover the identity of the blackmailer."

"An odd coincidence. I have set myself precisely the same goal."

Fulminating, Iphiginia studied him in silence for a moment. "We are going to carry on with our pretense, then?"

"Yes." Marcus responded to the greeting of an elderly woman who was emerging from a bookshop. "Mrs. Osworth."

"Masters." Iphiginia recognized the heady-eyed lady. She managed a civil smile. "Good day, Mrs. Osworth."

"Good day to you, Mrs. Bright." Mrs. Osworth turned her sharp gaze on Marcus. "Lovely day, my lord, is it not?"

"Indeed," Marcus said. "I trust we shall be seeing you both at the Lartmores' ball this evening?" Mrs. Osworth murmured.

"Doubtful," Marcus said flatly. "I certainly plan to attend," Iphiginia said briskly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Marcus's mouth thin with disapproval. She deliberately brightened her smile. "I understand that Lord Lartmore has a very extensive collection of statuary."

"Yes, I believe he does," Mrs. Osworth said. "My husband mentioned it once. I have never seen it myself. I'm not terribly interested in antique statuary. Oh, dear, you must forgive me. I must be off." "Yes, of course," Iphiginia said. "I have an appointment to interview a woman who is being sent over from the Wycherley Agency. I am seeking a new companion, you know."

"No, I did not know," Iphiginia said. "My last one a flighty little thing if you must know the truth ran off two days ago with a young man of absolutely no background. Can you imagine? After all I'd done for the girl. Ungrateful wretch. This time I shall hire someone older. And a good deal plainer. Until this evening, then, my dear."

"Good day, Mrs. Osworth," Iphiginia said. Marcus was silent until Mrs. Osworth was out of earshot. "Why do you wish to go to the Lartmore ball? Bound to he a dead bore."

"Two reasons," Iphiginia said crisply. "The first is that I would dearly love to see Lord Lartmore's statuary collection."

"He allows only his closest acquaintances and certain, ah, connoisseurs to tour it."

"I hope to prevail upon him to show it to me."

"You wouldn't be interested. Rather poorly executed copies, for the most part."

Iphiginia momentarily forgot that she was annoyed with Marcus. "You've seen it?"

"Yes, and you may take my word for it. There is nothing to interest the scholar in Lartmore's statuary hall."

"How disappointing. I was so looking forward to viewing his antiquities."

"Save your time. What was the other reason you wished to attend?"

"To pursue my inquiries, of course. His name is on my list of men who connect your world with that of my aunt's. And you did play a few hands with Lartmore at your club that night before you left for Yorkshire."

Marcus eyed her speculatively. "You really have done a most thorough investigation of my activities, have you not?"

"I told you that I had made a close study of your habits."

"Lartmore is no blackmailer." "How do you know that?"

"He's extremely wealthy. He has no reason to resort to blackmail."

"Perhaps he has recently suffered some serious reverses in his fortunes."

"Unlikely," Marcus said. "As it happens, however, I intend to dine at my club this evening. Afterward I shall arrange to play some cards. One can learn a great deal at the card tables. I shall see if there is any hint of gossip concerning Lartmore's finances."

Iphiginia pursed her lips. "I wish I could arrange to play a few hands at some of the gentlemen's clubs. There is no telling what I might learn."

"Do not even think about it," Marcus said. "It's impossible and well you know it. I shall look for you at the Richardsons ball sometime around eleven. I can give you my report."

"You are attempting to dissuade me from attending the Lartmore ball, are you not?"

"Mrs. Bright, so that you are quite clear on this point, allow me to make it plain that I am ordering you not to go to Lartmore's."

"Hmm. My lord, I have a question for you." "Yes?"

"Would you care to tell me precisely why your friend is being blackmailed?"

"No, I would not," Marcus said bluntly. "Surely you do not expect me to divulge a confidence."

"No, of course not. I merely thought that if I knew the nature of your friend's secret, I might be able to compare it to the sort of secret information that is being used against my aunt. I cannot help but wonder if there might be some similarities."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. He looked intrigued in spite of himself. "I don't suppose you would care to tell me the nature of the secret material that you claim is being used to blackmail Lady Guthrie?"

"No." "So I am left to wonder if she really is being blackmailed."

Iphiginia gave him a lofty smile. "You cannot expect me to trust you with my secrets when you have made it clear that you are not prepared to trust me with yours."

Marcus's powerful band clamped more firmly around her arm. "Your lack of faith in me is going to make it somewhat awkward for us to work together."

"It certainly will," Iphiginia agreed. "And your lack of trust in me will have an equally chilling effect on our efforts."

Marcus gave her a disturbing smile. "It is clear that if we are to break down the barriers of distrust between us, we must become more intimately acquainted, Mrs. Bright."

"How do you suggest we go about becoming more closely acquainted, sir?"

"To begin, why don't you tee me what happened to Mr. Bright?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Marcus raised one brow. "I was referring to your late husband."

"Oh, him."

"Obviously you no longer grieve for the departed." "He wouldn't have wanted that." Iphiginia swallowed uneasily. She must learn to think of this man as an adversary, she warned herself. "He believed that one should put unhappy events behind one. After a suitable mourning period, of course."

"Of course. And was there a suitable mourning period after his death?"

"A reasonable one, considering the circumstances. Mr. Bright was considerably older than I," Iphiginia murmured.

"I see."

"He lived a very full and active life."

"I imagine it got considerably more active after he married you."

Iphiginia gave him a repressive look. "I do not wish to pursue this topic of conversation. I'm sure you comprehend, my lord. Much too painful."

"I understand," Marcus said.

"And so you should. I believe you have a rule of your own against discussing the past, do you not?"

"Yes, Mrs. Bright, I do have such a rule." "Personally, I am not overly fond of rules, but I believe that I shall adopt that particular one myself." Iphiginia caught sight of a discreetly painted sign hanging at the corner of a small street off Pall Mall. "Oh, look, there's Dr. Hardstaff's museum. Mr. Hoyt mentioned the establishment the other evening."

"I cannot imagine why."

"He said something about Lord Thornton having recently taken a treatment from Dr. Hardstaff." Iphiginia studied the sign.

DR. HARDSTAFF'S MUSEUM OF THE GODDESSES OF MANLY VIGOR LEARN THE SECRET AND INVIGORATING POWERS OF THE GODDESSES OF ANTIQUITY

Marcus glanced at the sign. "You would have no interest in Dr. Hardstaff's museum, Iphiginia."

"But I am always deeply interested in antiquities." Iphiginia turned her head to look back at the sign as Marcus urged her forward. She frowned. "I do not believe that I know which classical goddesses are particularly associated with manly vigor."

"You astound me, madam. I thought you knew all the answers.

Shortly after ten that evening Marcus left the card room at his favorite club. He was in a dark, unpleasant mood, although he had won, as he so often did when he played whist.

He took no particular satisfaction in the victory. There was no serious challenge to be found in a game when one's opponents were so deep in their cups that they could scarcely hold their cards.

The restlessness that gripped him had nothing to do with the recent game of whist. He had been feeling this way since he had met with Hannah in the park. The sensation had intensified after the conversation with Iphiginia.

Logic told him that he could not trust her, but his growing desire for her was undeterred by reason and common sense.

He wanted her. Marcus glanced at the stately tall clock and saw that it was nearly time to hunt Iphiginia down at the Richardsons ball. He wondered what she had been doing all evening. Had she been innocently pursuing what she termed her inquiries or had she been setting snares for other potential blackmail victims?

One could only pity the late Mr. Bright, Marcus reflected. Any man married to Iphiginia would no doubt find himself growing old before his time.

"I thought I might find you here, Masters." Marcus glanced over his shoulder. It took an act of will to avoid swearing aloud when he saw Hannah's husband, Edward, Lord Sands.

Marcus had often thought that under other circumstances he might have gotten along very well with Sands. There was a solid, substantial feeling about the man. Sands radiated a sense of unflinching integrity. He was the sort of man one would wish at one's side in the heat of battle. A man with whom one could do business.

Marcus knew that there was no chance for genuine friendship between himself and Sands, however, as long as Hannah and her secret stood between them.

"Good evening, Sands." Marcus nodded politely. "What brings you here? You rarely bother to put in an appearance at this particular club."

"I came here to find you." Sands's pleasant, open features were set in such rigid lines that they could have been carved from stone.

Marcus told himself he was not surprised. Nevertheless, he had hoped to avoid this confrontation. "What can I do for you?"

Sands's gloved hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "You can stay away from Hannah, damn your eyes. I know that you met her in the park this morning. I will not have it."

"Hannah is an old friend," Marcus said gently. "You know that."

"Listen to me, Masters, and listen carefully. Whatever happened between the two of you before I met Hannah is your affair. But she chose me, by God. She is my wife and I will not let you play your games with her, do you comprehend?"

"if you knew anything at AI about me, Sands, you would know that I have an ironclad rule against involving myself with innocents and other men's wives. And I never break my own rules."

"I have beard of your so-called rules," Sands said roughly. "The gossips claim that you have always made it a point to form your connections with the most interesting and attractive widows of the ton. But they also say that Hannah is the one exception."

"You should know better than to listen to gossip," Marcus said.

"If I hear that you have met privately with my wife again, I vow, I shall call you out. I am not bluffing, Masters. I am accounted a good marksman." "I believe you, " Marcus said calmly. "I have heard that you once very nearly killed a man on the field of honor, but that does not frighten me."

"I have no intention of keeping a dawn appointment with you, Sands."

"Then stay away from Hannah." "Did Hannah tell you that I had met with her this morning?"

"She did not have to tell me. I heard about it from an acquaintance, who had been told by someone else that you both were seen entering the park at an early hour."

Marcus shrugged. "You have my word of honor that I have no designs on your lady. Since you pay attention to rumors, I trust you will have heard by now that I am presently spending a great deal of my time in the company of a charming widow named Mrs. Bright."

"I have beard about your so-called Lady Starlight. She sounds just your sort. If you are wise, you will confine your attentions to her."

"I fully intend to do just that." Marcus glanced once more at the clock. "If you will excuse me, I shall go in search of the lady herself. She and I have arranged to meet at the Richardsons ball. Good night, Sands." Marcus inclined his head in a pleasant fashion and walked past Sands toward the door.

Iphiginia Bright had complicated his life no end, he reflected a few minutes later as he vaulted into his black, carriage. Now, on top of everything else, he was being hounded by a jealous husband.

Half an hour later, Marcus stalked back down the steps of the Richardson town house. He was no longer brooding over the difficulties Iphiginia presented. He was furious.,

It had never occurred to him that she would ignore his instructions to rendezvous with him at the Richardsons . Marcus was not accustomed to having his orders brushed aside. But that was not the worst of it.

What really annoyed him was that he had a strong suspicion that she had gone to the Lartmore mansion.

Marcus hesitated just as he was about to get back into his carriage. The London streets were choked with vehicles of A] descriptions. It was midnight at the height of the Season and everyone who was anyone was in motion, traveling from one soiree to another. It could easily take a good forty minutes for his coachman to forge a path to the Lartmore mansion.

"I'll go on foot," Marcus called up to Dinks. "Meet me at the Lartmore house."

"Aye, my lord," Dinks muttered from the box. "Watch yer back. All kinds out on a night such as this."

"I'll he careful." Marcus paced swiftly along the crowded thoroughfare. His path was dimly lit by the gas lamps that had recently been installed in this section of Town.

He moved through clumps of drunken dandies on their way to the gaming hells off St. James, clusters of brightly garbed fops en route to heckle the actors at the theater, and young men consumed with Byronesque ennui who were headed for adventure in the stews. Marcus sincerely hoped that Bennet was not among the last group.

Here and there prostitutes solicited passersby from shadowed doorways. A surly-looking individual dressed in a cap and baggy pants eyed the cut of Marcus's finely tailored clothes, but he did not attempt to leave the shelter of an alley.

A hare fifteen minutes later Marcus walked up the wide steps of the Lartmore mansion. Ale footman on duty in the hall bowed and did not ask to see his invitation. He headed straight for the balcony that overlooked the crowded ballroom.

Marcus planted both hands on the railing and looked out over the glittering scene. He searched the crowd for a glowing figure dressed in virginal white.

"I believe you will find her in the statuary hall, Masters. Lartmore invited her to, ah, survey his antiquities." Herbert Hoyt chuckled as he came up behind Marcus. "I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you. She assured me that she can handle Lartmore'

Marcus turned to study Herbert's amused face. He did not know the man well, but he knew the type. Hoyt was a harmless sort. "How do you know where Mrs. Bright is at this particular moment?"

Herbert lounged his well-padded thigh against the railing and took a sip of champagne from the glass in his pudgy hand. "Because I was with her when she asked Lartmore for a tour."

"I see." "Mrs. Bright is an authority on classical statuary and architectural design, you know."

"Yes, I know." "She and I have had numerous enthralling discussions on the subject of ancient architecture. She recently loaned me her copy of Grayson's Illustrations of Classical Antiquities. Have you read it, sir?"

"No, I have not." Marcus was in no mood to listen to another man, even harmless Herbert Hoyt as he chattered on about his close friendship with Iphiginia. "Excuse me."

Herbert gave him an apologetic look. "I did try to hint to her that she might not want to view Lartmore's statuary collection, but she was adamant. In my experience it's almost impossible to stop Mrs. Bright from doing exactly as she wishes."

"So it would seem." Marcus made to move past the other man.

"I congratulate you, sir. Mrs. Bright is a most fascinating lady. But then, I am always captivated by a female who gives one the impression that she is not quite what she appears to be."

Marcus stopped and turned back. "What the devil do you mean by that, Hoyt?"

Herbert held up a hand and hastily swallowed his mouthful of champagne. "Beg pardon. No offense intended, I assure you. It's the element of mystery she projects, you see. Gives the lady an enticing elusive quality, don't you think?"

"Mrs. Bright is a mystery only to some," Marcus said very softly. "To me she is an open book. We understand each other very well."

"I see." Herbert's brow wrinkled in a perplexed expression. "Then you were no doubt already aware of her keen interest in Lartmore's statuary. I must admit, it came as something of a surprise to me."

Whether Herbert H" was harmless or otherwise, Marcus had an almost overpowering urge to toss him over the raging. He told himself that it would be a futile exercise. Hoyt had not stated anything that everyone else who knew of Iphiginia's visit to Lartmore's statuary hall was not already thinking.

Marcus turned on his heel and walked away without a word. He knew where to find Iphiginia. Lartmore's collection of erotic statuary was famous among the males of the ton.