Mistress (7 page)

“You
allowed
him to kiss you?” Amelia shook her head in wonder. “But he is a stranger. Indeed, by rights, he is supposed to be a dead stranger.”

“I know.” Iphiginia sank down slowly onto a Roman-style chair. She gazed at the plume in her hand. “But he does not feel as though he were a stranger. Do you know
what my first thought was tonight when I saw him in the Fenwicks’ ballroom?”

“What was that?” Amelia asked warily.

Iphiginia smiled. “I thought that he looked exactly as he was supposed to look.”

“Rubbish. You have spent far too much time dwelling on what you suppose to be his nature.”

“Very likely.”

Amelia scowled. “He just appeared at the Fenwicks’ ball?”

“Yes. He knows nothing about the blackmail situation, by the way. He says that he is definitely not a victim.”

“Good lord. And he did not give you away?”

“No. He obviously had heard all the rumors that we have contrived to put about. You could say that he and I patched up our quarrel in front of the entire
ton.”

“I wonder why he went along with the thing,” Amelia mused.

“Masters is a very intelligent man with a keen sense of curiosity and a marvelously open mind. Obviously he made the very sensible decision not to unmask me until he discovered what I was about.”

Amelia snorted. “Hmm.”

“A man of his wide-ranging intellect would naturally possess a rational, coolheaded nature. He is not the sort to jump to conclusions.”

“It makes no sense,” Amelia snapped. “I do not like this business. I’ll wager he’s got another reason for being so cooperative.”

“What reason would that be?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he has decided that it would be amusing to turn you into his real mistress.”

Iphiginia caught her breath. “Oh, I really don’t think—”

“Precisely.” Amelia gave her a grim look. “You have not been thinking properly since this affair started. Bah.
Why the devil isn’t the man dead as he was purported to be?”

“He has been away at one of his country estates and only returned to Town because he heard about me.”

“So the note Aunt Zoe received claiming that Masters had been murdered because he would not pay blackmail was merely a ploy to frighten her.”

“Apparently. This is all very odd, Amelia.”

“This entire plan has struck me as decidedly odd from the beginning.”

“I know you have not approved,” Iphiginia said. “But I thought it was working rather well.”

“Until Masters came back from the dead. Some people have no consideration. What are you going to do now?”

“I have no choice but to continue posing as Masters’s mistress.” Iphiginia tapped her gloved forefinger against her pursed lips. “My original plan is still the only one we have and I believe that it is still a good one. If my true identity is revealed, I will lose my entrée into Masters’s social circle.”

“No great loss, if you ask me,” Amelia grumbled.

“I disagree. As the mysterious Mrs. Bright, paramour of the Earl of Masters, I can go anywhere and talk to anyone.”

“But as Miss Bright, spinster, bluestocking, and former proprietor of Miss Bright’s Academy for Young Ladies, you will be confined to a much more mundane circle of acquaintances. Is that it?”

Iphiginia made a face. “I’m afraid so. It’s true that I now have ample funds, thanks to our very good fortune with our property investments—”

“You mean thanks to your very shrewd knowledge of architecture and Mr. Manwaring’s talents as a businessman,” Amelia corrected.

“And your skills in financial matters,” Iphiginia added. “Do not forget your contribution.”

“Yes, well, that is not the point.”

Iphiginia smiled wryly. “As I started to say, regardless of the status of my finances, as Miss Iphiginia Bright, I lack the social contacts and the cachet I need to move in Masters’s circles.”

“And you are still convinced that whoever is behind the blackmail threat moves in Masters’s world as well as your aunt’s.”

Iphiginia stroked the white plume. “I am certain of it. It is clear that whoever he is, he knew a great deal about the earl’s plans for the Season. He was able to time the delivery of his threat to Aunt Zoe very precisely.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“And he knows the secret from Zoe’s past. The only connection between Masters and Aunt Zoe is those men who played cards with Guthrie and who now play occasionally with Masters.”

“But Guthrie, himself, never knew Zoe’s secret.”

“Guthrie was so drunk most of the time that he couldn’t even win at cards, let alone perceive what was happening right beneath his nose. But someone who was close to him might well have guessed what was going on between Zoe and Lord Otis and put two and two together when Maryanne was born.”

“And tried to blackmail her with the facts eighteen years later?”

“Yes. Do not forget that the news that Maryanne is actually Lord Otis’s daughter, not Guthrie’s, was not worth much until the Earl of Sheffield asked for her hand in marriage a few months ago.”

Iphiginia did not have to go into the details. They both knew that if there was a scandal connected to Maryanne’s name, Sheffield would no doubt retract his offer.

The Sheffield family was notoriously high in the instep. They very likely already had doubts about the wisdom of the heir marrying someone such as Maryanne. True, she had a respectable portion to recommend her, but it was not a great fortune. And she was quite lovely,
but there was no denying that her family was somewhat undistinguished.

Sheffield could have looked much higher and everyone knew it. His alliance with Maryanne was a love match and love was considered a frivolous reason for marriage in the
ton
.

“I don’t know, Iphiginia,” Amelia said after a moment. “This whole scheme was dangerous enough when we thought the earl was dead. But now that he is alive, I have a feeling that matters could get considerably more complicated.”

“Yes.” Iphiginia glanced at the nude centurion. “But I must tell you that I am very glad that he is alive, Amelia.”

“I can see that.” Amelia’s mouth thinned as she rose to her feet. “It comes as no surprise. You have been falling in love with him for weeks.”

Iphiginia felt her face turn very warm. “You exaggerate.”

“I know you better than anyone. Even better, I believe, than your sister or your Aunt Zoe. I have never seen you react like this to any man. Not even Richard Hampton.”

Iphiginia grimaced at the mention of her sister’s new husband. “I assure you, I never found Richard as …” She strove for the appropriate word, “as
interesting
as Lord Masters.”

“Not even when he was courting you?” Amelia asked gently.

“Richard never actually courted me,” Iphiginia said briskly. “I completely misread his intentions for a time. It was all a terrible misunderstanding. The mistake was soon sorted out.”

To Iphiginia’s acute chagrin it had been her sister, Corina, whom Richard had really loved.

“You were not the only one who misread his frequent visits,” Amelia said. “We all did. I am still convinced that he did fix on you in the beginning, if you want to know
the truth. And then changed his mind as he watched Corina bloom into a great beauty.”

“That is unfair, Amelia. Richard is not shallow.”

“Don’t be too certain of that. And I’ll tell you something else. He would never have offered for Corina, either, if you had not settled a large portion on her. His parents would never have given their approval if they had not believed that she could bring some money into the family.”

“You are right on that point.” Iphiginia wrinkled her nose in disdain. She had never liked Richard’s parents.

Iphiginia had known Richard most of her life. They were the same age. The Hamptons and the Brights had been neighbors in the small Devon village of Deepford.

Squire Hampton and his wife had never fully approved of Iphiginia’s parents. People with uninhibited, artistic natures were always suspect in small villages dominated by unspoken rules of decorum and behavior.

Iphiginia had always liked Richard, however, and he had always been kind to her, especially during the difficult time after her parents had been lost at sea.

When she recovered from the impact of the first dreadful shock of their deaths, Iphiginia had found herself left with her nine-year-old sister and herself to support.

Unfortunately, the Brights had left very little in the way of an inheritance. Iphiginia’s mother had never made much money from her paintings. Her father, a gifted architect, had lacked the business acumen to turn his elegant, classical designs into reality.

The unexpected hidden costs of construction, a poor talent for selecting his business associates, and the myriad problems inherent in building houses on speculation had combined to make most of Bright’s profits evaporate.

In any event, both of Iphiginia’s parents had been far more interested in renewing their artistic spirits with frequent trips to the ruins of Egypt, Italy, and Greece than they had been with making money.

The Brights had traveled widely, with little concern for the shifting theaters of the war that had raged at various points on the Continent for years. Iphiginia and her sister had usually accompanied them on their travels.

But Iphiginia and Corina had been left behind when the indomitable Brights had set out on their last journey. News of their deaths at sea had come as a devastating blow to their beloved daughters.

Faced with the responsibility of providing for herself and Corina, Iphiginia had taken a bold step. She had scraped together every available penny she could get from the sale of her mothers paintings and a pattern book that her father had created.

She had used the small sum to open her academy for young ladies. It had been an immediate success.

Richard had assisted Iphiginia by persuading his father to rent her a suitable house for her academy. He had made certain that the rent was reasonable. He had gone out of his way to perform other small acts of kindness as well. He had even convinced his mother to recommend Iphiginia’s academy to her friends.

She would always be grateful to Richard, Iphiginia thought. And she would always feel a certain fondness for him. He was a handsome, amiable man with a likable manner.

But she knew now that she would not have been the best choice for a wife for him. He, apparently, had comprehended that better than she had at the time.

The truth was, she would have been quite miserable if she had been forced to spend the remainder of her life in Deepford. She had not realized just how much she had been obliged to repress her naturally exuberant, independent, adventurous, intellectual nature until she had left the village last year.

She had felt as though she had shed a cocoon and become a creature with wings.

Iphiginia had discovered this past year that she had
inherited a full measure of her parents’ unconventional, artistic sensibilities. She would have had a very hard time behaving in a manner suited to the wife of a staid country squire.

Her sister, on the other hand, was entirely comfortable with the strictures of life back in Deepford. Corina even seemed to like her new in-laws.

“Iphiginia?”

Iphiginia surfaced from her brief reverie. “Yes?”

“I am very concerned about this new development.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“This situation is dangerous.”

“Nonsense. We shall find the blackmailer and all will be well.”

“I am not talking about the blackmail situation.” Amelia gave her a searching glance. “I am talking about your personal situation. This business of masquerading as a notorious widow entails far too much risk. Look at what happened in here tonight.”

Iphiginia’s cheeks burned. “Really, Amelia. It was just a kiss.”

Amelia watched her with worried eyes. “For your own sake, I pray you will take great care not to indulge in any more such reckless embraces. Masters is not some harmless country squire whom you can control with a word or a frown. He is a powerful man, accustomed to getting what he wants.”

“He is a gentleman,” Iphiginia protested.

“Men of his stamp seize what they desire and do not care whom they hurt in the process.”

Iphiginia could think of nothing to say in response. She was only too well aware that Amelia spoke from painful experience.

In the perilous days ahead, she must bear in mind that she was not really Mrs. Bright, the exciting, exotic widow, mysterious paramour of the most notorious earl in the
ton
.

She was Miss Bright, spinster, scholar, student of classical design.

And she had a blackmailer to catch.

She was fascinating, Marcus thought as he walked up the front steps of his town house. Intelligent, passionate, and so delightfully different from the usual run of females. She would make him a most interesting mistress for the remainder of the Season. Perhaps longer, if he was fortunate.

Marcus experienced a surge of what could only have been hope. It would be an enormous relief to settle into a comfortable, stable, long-term affair with an intelligent woman.

One who accepted his rules and did not pester him for marriage or subject him to childish tantrums and irritating emotional scenes.

One who understood the demands of his assorted intellectual interests.

One who did not constantly seek to divert his attention from whatever book he was studying or whatever project he was working on at the moment.

One with whom he could actually converse after the demands of passion had been temporarily satisfied.

Lovelace opened the door just as Marcus reached the top step. “Good evening, sir. A pleasant night, I trust.”

“An interesting evening, Lovelace” Marcus stripped off his coat and handed it to his butler along with his hat.

Lovelace’s expression, usually as impassive as an Egyptian sepulchral mask, registered momentary surprise. “I am pleased to hear that, sir. You do not usually return from an evening’s round of social affairs with such, ah, enthusiasm.”

“I am well aware of that, Lovelace. Tonight’s affairs were of a somewhat unusual nature.” Marcus crossed to the library. His boots rang on the gold-veined black marble floor. “You may go to bed. I shall see to the lamps.”