Mistress

  Iphiginia gave him a repressive look. “One always shares one’s friends with other people, Herbert.”

  “Damn it all, he’s your paramour, not your friend. There’s a world of difference.”

  “That is quite enough, Herbert.”

  Herbert turned a dark shade of red. “I did not mean to intrude, but everyone knows about your association with Masters.”

  “Do they?”

  “Well, of course they do. Never been any secret. Iphiginia, I feel that I must be blunt. As your true and devoted friend, I must ask that you consider your future course of action quite carefully. You are the most elegant, most gracious, most intelligent, most admirable woman it has ever been my privilege to meet.”

  “Why, thank you, Herbert.” Iphiginia was touched by the gallant declaration. “That is very kind of you.”

  “It is because you are so very estimable, such a paragon, that I feel I must urge you to think about your future. It is one thing to have an, er, exclusive connection with a powerful man such as Masters. Quite another to be kept as a bit of fluff on the side.”

  “A bit of fluff?” Iphiginia came to a halt in the middle of the floor.

  Herbert gazed at her helplessly. “Masters will never be able to offer you marriage, madam. Everyone knows that if he has determined to violate his most cardinal rule in order to remarry, he will choose some young innocent to bear his heirs. It’s the expected thing.”

  “You go too far, Herbert. You know that I do not discuss the details of my relationship with Masters with anyone.” Iphiginia was aware of the covert stares she, and Herbert were receiving from the other dancers.

  “I did not mean to offend you, madam.” Herbert looked thoroughly abashed. He cast an embarrassed glance around at the other couples and then took Iphiginia’s arm. He hastily escorted her off the floor. “I pray that you will forgive me.”

  “Of course.”

  “I spoke out of turn. But I did so only because I am so deeply concerned about you.”

  “I know, Herbert.” She patted his arm. “But I am not a young innocent. I am a woman of the world and I am quite capable of looking after myself.”

  “If you say so.” Herbert withdrew his handkerchief again and dabbed at the beads of sweat on his brow. “You’re a brave female, m’dear. You will always have my greatest admiration. Please remember that if there is ever any way in which I can be of service, you must not hesitate to call upon me.”

  “Thank you, Herbert.” She smiled at him. “Pray, excuse me. I must have a word with someone who just came in.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  Herbert stuffed the crumpled handkerchief back into his pocket. Iphiginia could feel his wistful gaze resting on her as she made her way across the crowded room.

  She knew that Herbert meant to be kind and that her aunt wanted to protect her from heartache, but neither of them knew the real truth. Iphiginia did not want to even attempt to explain the bizarre situation in which she found herself.

  Curious eyes, most politely averted or hidden behind discreetly held fans, watched her as she headed toward the French doors. Iphiginia knew that the gossip about Masters’s forthcoming engagement had crested into a tidal wave that had inundated Society.

  Everyone was talking about her once more, just as they had a few weeks ago when she had descended on the Polite World. But this time they were speculating on her fate.

  Iphiginia knew that no one expected Marcus to give up his mistress. It was accepted by one and all that he could and would have both a paramour and a suitable wife.

  The real question as far as the Polite World was concerned was whether or not his unpredictable, independent mistress would abandon him rather than share him with a bride.

  Society was titillated by the current developments, but it was not shocked. The only thing that could really stun the haute monde would be to discover that the woman Masters intended to wed was his mistress.

  The ton would be even more astounded to learn that she had no intention of marrying him.

  But no one was even speculating on such bizarre possibilities because, as usual, Society was two steps behind the notorious Earl of Masters.

  Iphiginia slipped through the open doors and escaped to the cool darkness of the terrace. A handful of other people had drifted outside. They glanced at her as she emerged from the ballroom.

  Iphiginia ignored the interested gazes and sought the seclusion of the far corner of the terrace. She needed a few moments of privacy. It had been a trying day and an even more trying evening.

  The sound of a footstep behind her and the clearing of a masculine throat told Iphiginia that she no longer had this section of the terrace to herself.

  “Mrs. Bright?” Bennet said in a very low voice.

  Iphiginia turned slowly to face him. She summoned up a smile. “Good evening, Mr. Cloud.”

  “I saw you come out here.” Bennet glanced awkwardly toward the brilliantly lit ballroom. Then he looked back at her. He squared his shoulders and took a resolute breath. The expression on his face was one of stern determination.

  “You remind me of your brother when you do that,” Iphiginia said dryly.

  Bennet scowled. “When I do what?”

  “Never mind. What was it you wanted?”

  “Mrs. Bright, I will be blunt. The whole world is saying that my brother intends to marry a respectable young lady of the ton. But I know the truth.”

  “You do?”

  “He told me that it is you he plans to wed,” Bennet blurted. “It is a crazed notion, but I know him well and I fear that it is not beyond the realm of possibility that he would do something so … so …”

  “So what?”

  “So impossible as to wed a most improper female simply because he has taken a fancy to do so. He has no regard for Society’s opinion or for propriety or tradition.”

  Iphiginia studied Bennet’s earnest features. “I have heard that your brother has withdrawn his objection to a marriage between you and Juliana Dorchester.”

  “What in blazes has that got to do with anything?”

  “Masters told me that he has many grave concerns about an alliance between you and Miss Dorchester. Yet he concluded that you were no longer a boy in need of his guidance. He feels that you are a mature man who has the right to make his own decisions.”

  “He should feel that way. I am a mature man.” Bennet’s gloved hands clenched and unclenched. “But my own plans for marriage have nothing to do with this discussion.”

  “Against his better judgment but out of respect for you, your brother has elected to stay out of your affairs. Don’t you owe him the same courtesy?”

  “Damnation, this is an entirely different matter. Miss Dorchester is a perfectly respectable young lady without a single blemish on her reputation. An innocent. She is above reproach. Marcus had no right to raise any objections to my intention to ask for her hand.”

  “You think not?”

  “No offense, madam, but you are hardly in the same category as Juliana Dorchester. You are a woman of the world, if you do not mind my stating the obvious.”

  “Your brother is a man of the world.”

  “Yes, he is, but he is certainly not acting as though he were,” Bennet retorted. “He appears to be smitten by you, Mrs. Bright. I vow, you have put some sort of spell upon him.”

  “What on earth makes you say that?”

  “Why else would he violate his most closely held rule? He once vowed never to remarry. I confess, I had hoped he would change his mind. But I never dreamed he would do something so mad as to marry his mistress.”

  That was too much. Iphiginia was at the end of her tether. She had been under a strain for too long and now something inside her snapped.

  “I am sick of hearing about Masters and his rules,” she said forcefully. “He is not the only one who has chosen to live by his own rules. I happen to possess one or two myself.”

  “One can only speculate about the sor
t of rules a woman such as yourself would choose to honor. Do you have one which states that you will take only wealthy men as paramours?”

  “I do not need a wealthy man to take care of me. In case you have not paid attention, Bennet, I control a rather handsome fortune of my own.”

  “Maybe it’s the title you’re after.”

  “I assure you, gaining a tide is the least of my concerns. I value my freedom and my rights as an independent widow far too highly to surrender them for a mere title.”

  “Then just what sort of rules do you abide by, Mrs. Bright?”

  “There is only one that need concern you. I have an ironclad rule which states that I will never, ever marry a man who does not love me. And as your brother has never once said that he loves me, it does not require any great intellect to perceive that Masters is perfectly safe from me.”

  Bennet stared at her. “Mrs. Bright—”

  “Begone, sir. I hate discussions of rules. I wish to be left alone.” Iphiginia spun around on her heel and rushed toward the steps that led down into the garden.

  She ran straight into Marcus, who had just emerged from behind a hedge.

  “Ooph.” Iphiginia staggered and lost her balance as she crashed against his broad chest.

  Marcus steadied her while he looked at his brother. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

  Iphiginia’s head came up quickly when she heard the dangerous edge of steel in his voice. “‘Tis nothing of any great import, sir. Your brother was merely concerned for your future well-being, just as you are concerned for his.”

  “My brother will keep his opinions on the subject to himself,” Marcus said. “Is that understood, Bennet?”

  “She will make a fool of you, if you allow her to do so,” Bennet said savagely. “She is infinitely more clever than Nora. Can you not see that?”

  “Any idiot can see it. It’s one of the reasons I intend to wed her,” Marcus said. “I cannot abide brainless females.”

  “You cannot possibly expect to turn her into a countess, Marcus. She would be a disgrace to the tide.”

  In spite of her desire to put an end to the dreadful scene, Iphiginia took umbrage at that remark. “Now hold on one moment here, Mr. Cloud. Your brother was a farmer, a man who worked with his hands for years before he came into the earldom. He has managed very nicely with a title. I assure you I would have no trouble at all playing the part of a countess, if I so chose.”

  “Quite right,” Marcus murmured.

  “This is ridiculous,” Bennet snapped.

  “You are the one who is behaving in a ridiculous fashion,” Marcus said. “Now take yourself off before I lose my temper.”

  “This is beyond anything. I can only pray that you told me the truth about your own rules, Mrs. Bright, and that you will have the decency to get out of my brother’s life.” Bennet whirled and stalked back toward the ballroom.

  “You go too far, brother.” Marcus made to ease Iphiginia out of his path. She panicked and seized hold of the lapels of his finely cut coat.

  “Marcus, no. I do not want you and your brother quarreling because of me.”

  “Do not concern yourself, my dear. I shall deal with Bennet.”

  “Bloody hell, Marcus, I vow, if you go after him, I shall leave Town this very night.”

  He paused, frowning. “What are you saying?”

  “I mean it, my lord. I will not allow you to stage a scene with Bennet because of me. He was doing no more than what you tried to do when you learned that he wished to marry Miss Dorchester. He was attempting to protect you.”

  “He is behaving like a pompous little prig. Who the devil does he think he is?”

  “He is your brother and he is terrified that you are about to make a horrendous mistake. Does that sound familiar, Marcus? You were behaving in precisely the same manner just yesterday.”

  “It is hardly the same thing.”

  “It is precisely the same thing.” Sensing that she had won the small battle, at least for the moment, Iphiginia stepped back. “Come, my lord. Let us take a walk in the garden. I find I am in need of fresh air.”

  Marcus hesitated, clearly torn. He gazed at the open glass doors of the ballroom, then shrugged and took Iphiginia’s arm. “Very well.”

  Iphiginia heaved a silent sigh of relief. Disaster had been averted for the moment, she thought, but sooner or later it would strike. She could feel it looming over her head.

  She had hoped that she would have the remainder of the Season in which to savor the love of her life, but it seemed that such was not to be the case. She could not allow Marcus’s relationship with his brother to be ruined because of her.

  The time had come to think about leaving Town.

  “What would you say if I were to suggest that we take an extended tour of America?” Iphiginia said to Amelia the following morning at breakfast.

  Amelia looked up from the morning papers. “Are you serious?”

  “Very.”

  “But there are no classical antiquities in America. Everything there is new. I have heard that the people live in little wooden houses of the most primitive sort.”

  “Rustic, primitive ruins can be quite inspiring, artistically speaking.”

  “Rubbish.” Amelia folded the newspaper, set it aside, and regarded Iphiginia with a perceptive gaze. “Are you thinking of running away from this affair in which you find yourself embroiled?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “Need I remind you that it is not so simple as all that? We are in the middle of arranging the finances for Bright Place. We cannot deal with the details of such a large project if we are in America. It takes weeks to get a message across the Atlantic.”

  Iphiginia sighed. “I suppose you are right.”

  “If you wish to remove yourself from the situation, I suggest we retire to Deepford.”

  “Never” Iphiginia shuddered at the thought. “The wilds of America would be preferable to the suffocating rules of Deepford. I shall never go back.”

  “Then you must think of another place.” Amelia reached for the coffeepot. “Why this sudden panic? I was under the impression you believed that you were in control of the situation.”

  “Things are getting out of hand,” Iphiginia muttered.

  “In what way?” Amelia’s eyes widened in sudden concern. “Good heavens, you aren’t pregnant, are you?”

  Iphiginia stilled. “No, of course not.” At least, I don’t think so. Iphiginia crossed her fingers in her lap.

  Amelia frowned. “I imagine that Masters, being a man of the world, is cautious in such matters.”

  “Uh, yes.” Iphiginia picked up a spoon and stirred her coffee very rapidly. “Yes, of course.”

  “Tell me, does he employ those odd French apparatuses fashioned from sheep gut? The ones the Italian countess told us about?”

  “Amelia.”

  “I have always been rather curious to see one.” Amelia looked at her with brief interest. “The countess also mentioned that a woman could use a small sponge soaked in some astringent liquid.”

  “I really do not want to discuss this at the breakfast table, Amelia.”

  “Oh.” Amelia shrugged. “Some other time, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.” Right after she had discussed the subject with Marcus, Iphiginia thought grimly. He had never once mentioned the possibility of pregnancy. And she, heaven help her, had never given the matter much thought.

  An image of herself holding Marcus’s babe in her arms formed in her mind. It was such an intensely powerful vision that she caught her breath with a sense of wonder.

  The infant would have miniature versions of his father’s fine, strong hands. He would have his father’s brilliant, intelligent amber eyes and broad forehead.

  He would be beautiful and she would love him as much as she loved his father.

  “Iphiginia? Did you hear what I said?”

  Iphiginia blinked and brought herself back to real
ity. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I suggested that if you are concerned about your association with Masters, we might consider removing ourselves to Bath. I have always wanted to take the waters.”

  “I shall consider the notion.” Iphiginia set her spoon precisely on the saucer. “Won’t you miss being able to work so closely with Mr. Manwaring?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “It strikes me that matters have gone very efficiently thus far with Bright Place primarily because Mr. Manwaring is situated nearby and able to meet with us at a moment’s notice. Business will not be nearly so convenient if we remove ourselves to Bath. We shall have to depend upon the post and the occasional visit.”

  “We managed to work quite nicely with him during our years in Deepford.” Amelia picked up the newspaper and frowned over one of the articles. “It’s true that having Mr. Manwaring in the vicinity has made things go more smoothly. But I am sure we shall be able to carry on business from Bath.”

  Iphiginia stifled a small sigh. Perhaps she had been wrong when she had concluded that Amelia and Manwaring were made for each other.

  Lord only knew that she was not nearly so clever about such matters as she had once thought. The situation in which she found herself was a perfect example of how muddled affairs of the heart could become.

  Until now she had assumed that her problem was that she loved a man who could not bend his own rules far enough to allow himself to admit that he loved her.

  But perhaps the situation was even worse than she had thought. Perhaps Marcus had become so chained by his own rules that he could never love any woman again.

  “Damn you, Nora,” Iphiginia whispered.

  Amelia looked up. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” Iphiginia drummed her fingers on the table. One thing was for certain. She must take care not to become pregnant. It would be the last straw, for then Marcus would surely insist on marriage. And she would have no choice but to wed him for the sake of the babe.

  “Do you know something, Amelia? Being a mistress is a bloody complicated business.”