by Amanda Quick
“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 of 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 sealing 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 be 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 be 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 be 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 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 be 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
be 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 be 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 lit 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, unlike the centurion, he reflected, he 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 bare 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.
CHAPTER THREE
Shock lanced through Iphiginia with the force of lightning shooting through a cloud. She could not have been more startled if the marble centurion had suddenly sprung to life and taken her into his arms.
She was so astonished by the feel of Marcus’s mouth on her own that she went absolutely rigid for a few disbelieving seconds.
Marcus was kissing her. His strong, powerful hands rested on the naked skin of her shoulders, sending small shivers of excitement down her spine.
This notorious man whom she had come to know so intimately and whom she admired so much, this man who had stridden through her dreams every night for nearly a month, was making love to her right here in her own library.
Marcus had occupied her every waking moment since she had returned to London. She had spent her days studying him so that she could turn herself into a believable illusion of a woman to whom he might conceivably make love.
She had garnered rumors, tales, and a few real facts from every available source. She had read everything that he had written that she was able to find. She had spent hours contemplating the smallest details that she had learned about him in an effort to comprehend him and make him seem more real.
In the process she had created a very private fantasy for herself, one she had not shared with anyone, not even Amelia or Aunt Zoe.
