Mistress

by Amanda Quick

  Iphiginia stared at him in surprise. “Whatever do you mean? Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “You think that the villain assumed Lord Sands and I would believe the worst?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he was quite mistaken, was he not?”

  “It was an assumption that most people would make,” Marcus said softly.

  “Nonsense. Only those who do not comprehend connections based on mutual respect, intellectual affinity, and true love would be so idiotic.”

  “This may come as a surprise to you my dear, but I would venture to guess that ninety-nine percent of the populace in general, and one hundred percent of the ton in particular, fails to consider that such connections between men and women are even remotely possible.”

  “Is that so?” Iphiginia’s gaze was startlingly direct. “How would you have reacted if you had walked into that chamber tonight and discovered me attempting to conceal the fact that a man was hiding behind the stage door?”

  “I would have been bloody furious.”

  “But would you have believed me if I had told you that I was innocent?”

  Marcus thought about it. It came as something of a shock to realize that he would no doubt believe even the wildest explanation rather than face the possibility that Iphiginia had betrayed him. “Yes.”

  Iphiginia smiled with smug satisfaction. “I knew it. You do trust me, sir, do you not?”

  “Yes, but I still would have been bloody furious. Pray, do not take a notion to put the matter to the test.”

  “I still do not understand what the villain hoped to achieve by throwing us all together tonight. Any way you look at it, he was putting his future income at risk.”

  Marcus was silent for a moment while he examined the conclusion he had reached earlier. “Perhaps we are now dealing with someone who gets a thrill out of malicious mischief. Whoever it is may not need the money he could make by blackmailing Mrs. Wycherley’s victims.”

  “But he may enjoy exposing their secrets?”

  “It’s possible. Society breeds too many dangerously bored people, any number of which might find it titillating to use the information from Mrs. Wycherley’s files to wreak havoc in the ton.”

  “Good heavens. What a terrible notion.”

  “Not a pleasant one, I’ll grant you that.” Marcus had no intention of explaining the rest of his hypothesis.

  What really worried him was that he had sensed a personal element about the mischief that had been produced tonight. It was almost as though someone had wanted vengeance.

  Iphiginia’s eyes widened suddenly. “Aunt Zoe’s secret may be at risk again. This villain may choose to expose her past in order to create a furor.”

  “It’s possible,” Marcus agreed.

  “I must warn her.”

  “There is nothing we can do now to stop the revelations, if that is what the villain intends.”

  “Yes, I know, but poor Aunt Zoe. She will be devastated if her secret is revealed.”

  “We shall see if we can locate her tonight and tell her what has happened. But it’s entirely possible the villain will take no further action for a while,” Marcus said. “He may wait to see if he achieved the desired effect from tonight’s little scene before he goes to the trouble of planning another such elaborate production.”

  “Tonight’s work did take planning, did it not?”

  “A considerable amount of it, I should think. Iphiginia, I’m beginning to have a few doubts about our [missing]

  ———

  An hour and a half later, shortly before two-thirty in the morning, Marcus walked into his laboratory, poured himself a glass of brandy, and settled into the chair behind his worktable.

  He surveyed the chamber by the light of the single lamp that he had lit. He needed to think and he always did his best thinking in this room.

  He propped his boots on the table, leaned back, and took a sip of the brandy. It was his habit to let his thoughts drift aimlessly for a few minutes before he began to concentrate. The technique helped him to focus his attention.

  He reflected briefly on the conversation in the Crandais’ garden an hour ago. He knew Iphiginia was anxious about her aunt’s situation, but Otis had seemed quietly satisfied with events. Marcus thought he understood. After eighteen years of being forced to play the role of a doting friend, Otis would now he able to claim his daughter.

  By the end of the discussion, Zoe had seemed resigned to the inevitable, perhaps even relieved that the secret was about to come out.

  It remained to be seen how Maryanne would respond to the news that Otis was her real father. Her wedding plans were unquestionably in jeopardy, but who knew how it would all fall out? Marcus thought. Sheffield was an independent-minded young man with a will of his own. If he really loved Maryanne, he might not give a bloody damn about the gossip.

  If he really loved Maryanne? “Bloody hell.” Marcus’s mouth turned down in disgust. He was starting to think like one of those idiot romantic poets. Obviously he had been spending too much time in the company of his brother and Iphiginia. Their distorted, overly romanticized views of the relations between men and women were having an insidious effect on him. He would have to take care that he did not allow them to influence him unduly. He was a man of reason, not a Poet.

  He had learned his lessons the hard way, formulated his rules so as to protect himself from the pitfalls of romantic inclinations.

  A knock on the door of the laboratory interrupted Marcus before he could refocus his thoughts.

  “Enter.”

  “Marcus?” Bennet walked into the room. Marcus glanced at him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” Bennet hesitated. “Lovelace said you were in here. I was on my way upstairs to bed. Thought I’d say good night.”

  “I came in here to do some thinking.” Marcus looked down at the glass in his hand. “Have a brandy with me?”

  “Thanks.” Bennet seemed relieved by the invitation. He crossed the room to the brandy table and poured himself a measure.

  Marcus waited.

  Bennet cradled the brandy glass and looked down into its depths. “I saw you with Mrs. Bright an hour ago.”

  “At the Crandais’?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t see you.”

  “It was an awful crush,” Bennet said. “The ballroom was packed.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Bennet cleared his throat. “Have you made plans for your wedding yet?”

  “Mrs. Bright has not yet consented to be my bride.”

  Bennet’s head came up swiftly, his expression one of amazement. “What did you say?”

  “She is not precisely leaping at the opportunity to become my wife.” Marcus smiled ruefully. “She claims that although she is rather, ah, fond of me, she is not terribly keen on the notion of marrying me.”

  Bennet choked on his brandy. “She must be mad.” In spite of his opinion on the subject, it was obvious that he was affronted by the news.

  “I shall take that as a compliment,” Marcus said. “But in truth she is far from mad. She is spirited, proud, independent, and very much an Original, but she is not mad.”

  “How could she not want to marry you? You’re an earl, for God’s sake. And wealthy into the bargain. Any woman in her position would kill to marry you.”

  “Mrs. Bright is quite comfortably well off, thanks to her own judicious investments. Nor does she seem overly impressed with my title.” Marcus smiled faintly. “She has a remarkably egalitarian notion of what constitutes a gentleman. I believe she has read a bit too much of Locke, Rousseau, and, very likely, Jefferson.”

  Bennet was incensed. “She has not questioned your right to the title, has she?”

  “No.”

  “I should hope not.” Bennet scowled. “Are you telling me that she might actually refuse your offer?”

  “I am telling you that I shall have to put forth considerable effort in order to convince her that I would make her a sui
table husband.”

  “Hellfire.” Bennet breathed. “This is amazing. I do not know whether to be cheered by the news or insulted by her nerve.”

  Marcus turned the glass in his hand and watched the lamplight dance in the crystal. “It was Mrs. Bright who convinced me to withdraw my objections to your plans to become engaged to Juliana Dorchester.”

  Bennet glowered at him. “I don’t believe that. Why would Mrs. Bright get involved in my affairs? Why should she give a damn whom I marry?”

  “She cares about a great many odd things. And a number of people.”

  “Marcus, do you actually mean to say that you changed your mind about my marriage plans because of something your good friend Mrs. Bright had to say on the subject?”

  Marcus smiled ruefully. “Does that surprise you?”

  “It astounds me.”

  “I confess, you aren’t the only one. I was somewhat taken aback myself.”

  “I cannot imagine you allowing anyone, least of all one of your paramours—” Bennet broke off abruptly when Marcus narrowed his eyes in warning. “I mean, one of your female acquaintances to influence you. Devil take it, I’ve never known you to alter your views on a subject once you’ve made up your mind.”

  “That’s not entirely true. I’ve been known to change my mind when new facts are introduced which warrant a new conclusion.”

  “Bah. That almost never happens because you almost never make up your mind before you have investigated all aspects of a matter quite thoroughly.”

  “Suffice it to say that Mrs. Bright succeeded in causing me to alter my decision regarding your plans.” Marcus took a swallow of his brandy.

  “Damnation.”

  “It concerns you that I have allowed her to influence me?”

  “Yes.” Bennet’s mouth tightened ominously. “Yes, it does, even though in this instance I have been the beneficiary of her interference, This is not like you, Marcus.”

  “No, it’s not.” Marcus studied the clockwork man in the corner. “I have always made it a point to order my life along a few simple, straightforward principles.”

  “You certainly have done so since I was a boy,” Bennet agreed sourly.

  “Mrs. Bright has caused me to bend, and in some cases break, several of my own rules. Barring the possibility that I have, myself, gone mad, what do you suppose it all signifies?”

  “No offense, brother, but it strikes me that you have allowed your passions to rule your head.”

  “I once accused you of the same thing.”

  “Yes, you did.” Bennet looked bleak. “You really do intend to marry her, do you not?”

  “Yes.”

  Bennet sighed. “Would you mind telling me why you feel you must marry this particular female, Marcus?”

  Marcus gazed broodingly at the clockwork man. “When I am with her I do not feel as though I am made of gears and springs.”

  ———

  Barclay examined the notes he had just finished making. He pushed his spectacles more firmly onto his nose and considered Marcus through them. “What, precisely, do you hope to discover, sir?”

  “I am looking for some sort of link between the Hardstaff museum operation and the person who is constructing the sepulchral monument.”

  “I don’t understand. What possible connection could there be?”

  Marcus smiled thinly. “That is what I am paying you to learn, Barclay.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Barclay groaned as he heaved himself out of the chair. “I shall get to work on it at once.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “We told Maryanne directly after breakfast. She was very quiet for the longest time.” Zoe sniffed into a hankie. “I was terrified that she would hate us forever. She started to cry.”

  Iphiginia, seated behind her desk, exchanged a glance with Amelia. Amelia raised her brows but said nothing. Neither of them interrupted the tale.

  “And then—” Otis blew into a large handkerchief she looked at me and said ‘Papa.’ After all these years, she finally said ‘Papa.’ She threw herself into my arms.”

  “I vow, it was the happiest moment of my life.” Zoe burst into more tears.

  “And of mine, my dearest.” Otis went to her and put his arm around her. “You cannot imagine what it means to me to be able to openly acknowledge my own dear daughter.”

  “We should have told her immediately after Guthrie died last year,” Zoe said to Iphiginia. “Only think of the trouble it would have saved.”

  Iphiginia folded her arms on her desk and frowned. “What about the marriage to Sheffield?”

  “Maryanne insists upon telling him the truth,” Otis said, not without a touch of pride. “May as well, since the blackmailer will no doubt do so, anyway.”

  “I expect he’d cry off.” Zoe sighed. “There’s no help for it. The Earls of Sheffield have always been very high in the instep. Pity. It was such a fine match. But Maryanne is so lovely and charming that I am convinced that we’ll find another equally suitable husband for her.”

  “I shall make it public knowledge that I intend to settle an inheritance upon her,” Otis said stoutly. “Always intended to do so, of course, but planned to keep it a private matter. Now we can be open about it. That should help produce a good selection of candidates.”

  “Very true.” Iphiginia picked up her pen and fiddled with it as she considered the situation. “Do you know, it strikes me that there might be an even simpler way of brushing through this entire affair.”

  “What’s that?.” Zoe asked.

  “If you and Otis were to marry,” Iphiginia said, “Maryanne would become Otis’s stepdaughter in the eyes of the law.”

  “Married?” Zoe stared at her. “Married? But Otis and I are so happy the way we are. Isn’t that so, Otis?”

  “You have always been the delight of my life, my dear,” Otis said gallantly. “You know that. You will continue to be my heart’s truest friend regardless of whether or not we are wed.”

  Zoe smiled tremulously. “Otis, I do love you so,”

  “The thing is,” Iphiginia said briskly, “if Otis were to marry you, there would he no need to make the true facts of Maryanne’s parentage public.”

  “Iphiginia is right,” Amelia said.

  Zoe frowned. “I do not comprehend.”

  Otis’s brows formed a bristly hedge across his nose. “I say, she has a point, y’know.”

  Iphiginia saw the new light in his eyes. She smiled. “If you and Otis were to wed, he would become Maryanne’s stepfather. She could call him Papa and no one would take any notice. He can refer to her as his daughter and people will merely assume that he has a genuine paternal affection for her.”

  “Which is no particular secret, anyway,” Amelia pointed out. “Furthermore, the legalities of the situation settle rather nicely into place with regard to both the Guthrie money and the Otis fortune.”

  “Precisely,” Iphiginia said. “Maryanne will no longer be a young lady with a respectable portion, but a great heiress.”

  “No one will think to question the situation,” Otis murmured. “Perfectly natural that I would provide for her’”

  “Good Lord.” Zoe was clearly struck by the possibilities. “She would have her pick of husbands.”

  Otis took her hand and kissed it. “And I would have the great pleasure at last of not only claiming my daughter without a scandal, but of being able to claim you, my sweet, as my wife.”.

  “Oh, Otis.” Zoe looked up at him. “You have always been so good to me. You were the only thing that made my life bearable while Guthrie was alive.”

  “It was my greatest pleasure,” Otis said. “And if you wish to continue our liaison as it is, I shall be honored to do so. But I want you to know that nothing would make me happier than to be able to call you my wife.”

  Zoe’s eyes glowed. “How can I say no? I thought never to marry again after being freed of Guthrie. But in truth, you are the only man I have ever loved. The father of my
child. My dearest friend.”

  “I shall obtain a special license this afternoon,” Otis said. “We can he married tonight.”

  “Something tells me that Maryanne will be delighted,” Amelia said.

  Iphiginia tapped her pen against a sheet of foolscap. “And a bit more venom has been leeched from the blackmailer’s fangs. I begin to perceive that Masters was right all along. He said the easiest way out of this situation was to call the villain’s bluff by unveiling the secrets.”

  “It would, indeed, appear that he was correct,” Amelia agreed.

  “He very often is,” Iphiginia muttered. “What worse, he knows it and does not hesitate to make one aware of that fact. I vow, it is vastly annoying at times.”

  “I suspect you feel that way because you are so accustomed to being correct most of the time yourself,” Amelia said.

  Iphiginia wistfully recalled her plan to solve the blackmail problem by discovering the owner of a phoenix seal and some black sealing wax. “I have never met a man who is right more often than I am. It is rather unnerving,” she admitted.

  It was even more unsettling to know that she was in love with a man who was convinced that he was intelligent enough to learn anything except how to fall in love again.

  “What is Masters’s latest hypothesis, Iphiginia? Who does he believe is behind this nasty attempt to reveal everyone’s secrets?” Amelia asked as she and Iphiginia walked up a flight of stairs that led to Adam Manwaring’s office.

  “He does not know the new villain’s identity yet,” Iphiginia said. “His most interesting theory is that Mrs. Wycherley may not have been the villain in this piece, after all.”

  Amelia shot her a startled glance. “Really? But who else could it have been?”

  “As I said, Masters does not yet have a new suspect, merely a few doubts about the old one.” Iphiginia reached the landing and started down the hall to Adam’s door.

  “What do you believe, Iphiginia?”

  “I no longer know what to make of the events. I am still stuck on black wax, phoenix seals, and the fact that whoever sent that first note to Aunt Zoe knew that Masters would be out of Town for an extended period of time.”