The square of town houses was to he known as Bright Place in honor of her parents. The name of the project was still a secret known only to those in Iphiginia's small circle of relatives and to her trusty man of affairs, Adam Manwaring. Until her masquerade was concluded, Iphiginia did not want the name of the square to become widely known. She feared the rumors. At the very least, she would be hounded to death at parties by potential investors. At worst, questions might he raised which could, in turn, invite inquiries into her past.

The houses in Bright Place would he unlike so many of those being built in English towns these days. She had not set out to re-create any one particular classical design. Rather, Iphiginia wanted to produce a harmonious blend of the best of ancient and modern designs.

She was concerned with both exterior and interior elements. Her efforts took into account such factors as the English temperament and the climate. Quality of the building materials would be excellent. In terms of technical design, she planned to incorporate some of the things that she had learned from her perusal of Marcus's theories on budding foundations.

She would not he a slave to the classic tradition the way her father had been, she vowed. But neither would she make a mockery of it by allowing the extremely daring artistic impulses that she had inherited from her mother to run wild.

The trick was to create a graceful synthesis. She called upon the skills her father had taught her, of course: perspective, architectural detail, and a knowledge of classical elements. But she also utilized some of the bold style her mother had bequeathed to her.

The secret of her success with Morning Rose Square, she knew, was that she had never allowed herself to forget that everything she created had to work against an English landscape. She was determined not to make the mistake so many architects made. She would not try to impose buildings designed for the hot, dry climates of Greece and Rome onto the English countryside. Potential purchasers needed homes that could withstand the damp weather and the chill of cold winters.

She eyed her newest design with a critical eye. All of her rooms had high ceilings and stately, well-proportioned windows. Those elements were a legacy from her father. He had been much enamored of the Palladian tradition.

Her new design incorporated classical features as well as graceful staircases and a light, airy feeling which owed nothing to the weighty antique tradition. Iphiginia's artistic instincts told her that the mixture of effects blended well together.

She put down her pen and glanced out the window into the street.

Usually when she concentrated on her designs her thoughts became clear and organized. She often resorted to sketching a library or a drawing room whenever she needed to think about some other, unrelated matter. But this morning the technique was not working.

Her thoughts were in a jumble. It had been the same yesterday morning. In fact, it irritated her to realize that she had been suffering from this inability to concentrate properly since Marcus had stridden into the Fenwicks' ballroom and carried her off into the night.

She propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her palm. She had dealt with a great many problems in her life, from those related to raising Corina to the difficulties she and Amelia had encountered on their journeys. But she had never been obliged to deal with anyone quite like Marcus.

She still burned deep inside whenever she recalled the intimate way he had touched her in Lartmore's hall of erotic statuary. Iphiginia wondered if Marcus thought about that encounter at all or if it was such a normal event for him that he had already forgotten about it.

He certainly had not mentioned it during the past two days. Indeed, he had been a paragon of gentlemanly behavior since he had reduced her to that quivering, boneless creature who had gone limp in his arms.

Perhaps he'd had second thoughts about making love to a woman he did not trust.

She scowled at a vegetable seller's cart that was running down the street. She had absolutely no intention of allowing Marcus to touch her in that shatteringly intimate manner ever again.

Not unless he developed true trust, respect, and, yes, some degree of affection for her.

She did not think that she was asking for too much. After all, she was in love with the man. The least he could do was demonstrate some warmth of feeling.

Unfortunately, she did not think that Marcus recognized love when he saw it.

His experience of life had obviously made him too wary, too cynical, too self-controlled to enable him to surrender easily to love. He would be extremely cautious about opening himself to any emotion that he feared would render him vulnerable.

Thus far she had not discovered the precise events in his past which had influenced his temperament, but she could not deny the facts. Marcus had been badly scarred.

She was willing to be sympathetic and understanding up to a point. She was even willing to make a few allowances. But if he thought that she would accept him as a paramour when he had made it plain that he did not even trust her, let alone love her, he was very much mistaken.

Iphiginia wondered if he recognized her determination on that point. He was a very intelligent man, after all. Perhaps that was the reason he had not attempted to press his attentions on her since the other night.

He was the sort of man who would think matters through carefully before making his next move.

The library door opened. "Iphiginia?" Amelia, dressed in a gray high-necked gown that made her look considerably older than her twenty-six years, came into the room. "Mrs. Shaw is bringing tea."

"I could use a cup. I need to collect my thoughts before Mr. Manwaring arrives."

"He will be here shortly." Amelia glanced at the clock. "He is a punctual person. By the bye, I have made a preliminary list of widows and spinsters who might be interested in participating in our new venture."

"Are they all from the investment pool we formed for Morning Rose Square?"

"Most of them are, but two of them are new. A Miss Sanders and a Miss Crest. I met them at the museum last week. They are both paid companions who have managed to set aside a small amount to invest."

"Excellent." A thought struck Iphiginia. "That reminds me, I ran into Mrs. Osworth in Pall Mall the other day. She mentioned that she was interviewing a new companion. The woman was from the Wycherley Agency."

Amelia grimaced. "I'm not surprised. The Wycherly Agency caters to families such as the Osworths. Very exclusive."

"I thought the name rang a bell. That was the agency which employed you, was it not?"

"Yes." Amelia's mouth tightened. "It's been in business for years."

A discreet knock sounded on the library door. Iphiginia glanced at it. "Mat is it, Mrs. Shaw?"

Mrs. Shaw, as solidly built and very nearly as stately as a classical ruin, opened the door. "Mr. Manwaring to see you, Mrs. Bright."

"Please send him in." Mrs. Shaw stepped aside to usher the visitor into the library. Iphiginia and Amelia greeted him with welcoming smiles.

"I did not hear your carriage, Mr. Manwaring," Iphiginia said.

"It's such a fine day that I chose to walk." Adam Manwaring smiled at both women. His eyes lingered warmly on Amelia, who appeared to he oblivious.

Adam was an earnest, sober-minded man of twenty-seven years. He was the youngest son of a country squire who owned lands in the north. With no hope of inheriting his father's property, Adam had been obliged to forge a path for himself in the world. He had an excellent head for numbers and details and it had led him to his present career as a secretary and man of affairs.

Three years ago Iphiginia and Amelia had become his exclusive employers. He was devoted to them. His allegiance had been based initially on the fact that the two had hired him after he had begun to despair of ever finding a good position. His youth and lack of connections had made it difficult for him to secure clients.

Adam's unwavering loyalty 'to Iphiginia and Amelia was now cemented by considerably more than gratitude. It was also based on a solid financial interest. He had scraped together every penny he could put his hands on to join them in the Morning Rose Square venture. A year ago Adam had taken his hefty profits together with the widows and spinsters who had formed the investment pool.

Although Iphiginia had complete trust in Adam' she had not told him about her scheme to catch a blackmailer. He had been instructed to he absolutely discreet concerning her identity. Adam assumed she merely wished to remain anonymous and to keep her connection to the investment pool a secret so that she would not he pestered by interested parties.

Adam did not move in social circles and had little interest in gossip. He was very aware of who was who in the ton, however, and, more important, he knew a great deal concerning their financial affairs.

"Please have a scat, Mr. Manwaring." Iphiginia pretended not to notice the tinge of red in Adam's cheeks as he fixed his wistful attention on Amelia.

Iphiginia wanted to give her cousin a shake. Could not Amelia see that she and Adam were perfect for each other? she wondered.

Iphiginia had recognized instantly that the two were well suited a few weeks ago, directly after she and Amelia had met Adam in person for the first time. Until then, their transactions with him had been conducted through the post.

Adam's honest, open countenance made it easy to read his reactions. There was no doubt that he had developed a tendre for Amelia, although he had not yet worked up the courage to make an overture.