by Amanda Quick
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 seat. “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 be 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 be revealed.”
Marcus raised one brow. “And that same person would also have to be 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 be 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 be 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 anyth
ing 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 heard 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 be 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 be 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 wh
ite 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 out 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 be 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.”
