"No, damn it, I am not brooding about that situation. There is nothing to brood about. What's done is done."
"Then what is affecting your temper?" He lowered his large frame onto a claw-footed chair and regarded Iphiginia with a meditative expression. "Do you believe in coincidence?"
Iphiginia gave a small shrug. "Strange things do happen. Why do you ask?"
"Because a rather interesting coincidence has just turned up with regard to our blackmail problem."
"What coincidence is that?" "My friend, the other victim, had a companion in her employ at the time the events for which she is now being blackmailed occurred."
"Stop right there." Iphiginia held up a triumphant hand. "If you're going to tell me that the companion's name was Miss Todd and that you think she is the blackmailer, you may as well save your breath. Miss Todd has been dead for five years."
"My friend's companion was named Caroline Baylor," Marcus said evenly. "The interesting coincidence is that she was also connected to the Wycherley Agency."
Iphiginia considered that carefully. "It is not such a great coincidence, is it? After A, the Wycherley Agency has been around for years. At one time or another it has no doubt sent governesses or companions into many of the best families."
"Nevertheless, it's a connection." Marcus glanced at the clock. "It's only a bit after three. I intend to speak to Mrs. Wycherly myself this afternoon."
"But Miss Todd is dead and you said your friend's companion has disappeared. What do you hope to learn from the owner of the agency?"
"I am not certain yet, but I intend to ask a few questions concerning both Miss Todd and Miss Baylor."
Iphiginia was intrigued. "I shall come with you to see Mrs. Wycherly."
"There is no need," Marcus said easily. "I shall report any information that I discover in the course of the interview."
"On the contrary, my lord." Iphiginia fixed him with a determined look. "We are partners in this venture, if you will recall."
Marcus contemplated her for a moment. "Very well. I suppose you'll only call on her by yourself if I do not take you with me."
"You suppose correct." Iphiginia was pleased by the small victory. She picked up her teacup and took a sip. The trick to handling Marcus, she told herself, was to demonstrate firm resolve. He was the sort of man who naturally assumed command of a situation. -A woman of weak spirit would be soft clay in his powerful hands.
"We shall deal with Mrs. Wycherly together in a while, then," Marcus said. "But first there are a few other matters I wish to discuss with you."
"What matters are those?" Iphiginia started to put her teacup down onto the saucer.
"The lack of a late Mr. Bright is the first item on the agenda."
The delicate teacup slipped from Iphiginia's grasp. It crashed against the edge of the saucer, tipped over, and spilled tea onto the polished mahogany desk.
"Good heavens." Iphiginia jumped to her feet snatched a gossamer white lace hankie from her pocket: and began to dab ineffectually at the spilled tea. I thought we had already disposed of that subject, sir."
"We certainly disposed of something in connection with the topic, but it wasn't the late, unlamented Mr. Bright."
Iphiginia tried desperately to control the blush that she knew must be turning her face a bright pink. "Really, Marcus."
"Yes, ready, Iphiginia." Marcus withdrew a large, sturdy linen handkerchief from his pocket, got to his feet with leisurely grace, and blotted up the tea in a single swipe. "Furthermore, having delved into the subject at some depth, so to speak, I find there is a great deal more to it than was apparent at first."
Iphiginia was seized with a sense of panic. "Such as?" Marcus's amber eyes gleamed. "Such as a certain academy for young ladies, a village called Deepford, and a sister who is married to the son of the most important family in the neighborhood. In short, Iphiginia, I know everything."
She felt as though she'd had the wind knocked out of her. She sank slowly back down into her chair. "How did you discover so much about me?"
"That is not important. What is important is that if I was able to learn the truth, others can and no doubt will eventually discover it, also."
Iphiginia was dazed by his blunt revelations. He had learned so much in such a short period of time. It was unnerving. "Sir, I believe you are telling me this because you are about to present me with a choice of two options.»
He cocked a brow. "Two?"
"Yes." She raised her chin. "You are going to tell me that I must either leave Town immediately before anyone else stumbles onto the truth or else I shad have to consider an offer of marriage from you. Is that not right?"
"You are wrong, Iphiginia."
She looked at him with renewed hope. "I am?" "Under the circumstances, there is only one option, not two. That option is marriage."
"Never," Iphiginia said loudly, resolutely, and so forcefully that she knew Marcus could not possibly guess that her heart was breaking. "Absolutely impossible. Out of the question. The entire notion cannot even be considered."
Marcus smiled grimly. "One of the most interesting things I have learned in the course of my scientific studies is that there are very few things which are impossible."
CHAPTER TWELVE
YOU AND YOUR BLOODY RULES," IPHIGINIA SAID FIERCELY.
She leaned forward and planted both of her hands flat on her desk. Her eyes were brilliant with outrage. "That's what this is all about, is it not? You believe that you broke one of your damnable rules and therefore you have to pay the price."
"Calm yourself, Iphiginia. You are becoming overwrought."
"I will not calm myself and I will not be married because of Masters's Rules. Do you hear me, sir?"
"I hear you." Marcus set his jaw and kept his face impassive as he refolded his tea-stained handkerchief. It occurred to him that, what with one thing and another, he spent a great deal of time mopping up tea in Iphiginia's study. "But I do not believe that you have given the matter due consideration."
"Do not lecture me as though I were a schoolgirl, sir. I am a rational, educated, intelligent woman, not a foolish child. Of course I gave the matter proper consideration."
She would fight him every inch of the way. Anger flared in Marcus as he realized just how difficult his task would be. "You call masquerading as a notorious widow and my mistress the action of a rational, educated, intelligent woman?"
"You were not nearly so scathing about my masquerade before you discovered that I was not a widow. In fact, if memory serves, you were quite willing to go along with the plan. You rather liked the notion of having a new and unusual mistress, did you not, sir?"
"That was before we took a midnight tour of Pettigrew's Temple of Vesta and discovered that the damn antiquity was so authentic there was still a Vestal Virgin hanging about the place."
She looked desperate now. "Marcus, that is a very minor detail. You must not let it influence your actions."
"I shall be the judge of what influences my actions." "Damnation, sir, nothing has changed."
"That's not true. One element of this farce has, most certainly changed."
"It's not a farce." She glared at him. "It was a very clever scheme which has every chance of producing results. Society still believes me to he a widow and it is convinced that I am your mistress. Every element of the plan remains intact'
"But for how long?" "For as long as we wish," she retorted. "No one other than yourself has questioned my authenticity."
"It's only a matter of time before someone else decides to go to Devon to ask a few questions."
"Nonsense. Why would anyone bother? My lord, let us have some honesty here. The real reason you are being so — difficult about this is because you feel that you broke one of your own rules."
"I am well aware that you do not think much of my rules, but I have lived by them for a long while and I do not violate them for the sake of convenience."
Marcus, listen to me. I have a deep and abiding respect for your rules and the sense of honor that inspires them. But 'm this instance, you did not violate your rules.»
"No? I seem to recall quite clearly that I was the man who lay between your thighs two nights ago. Am I mistaken?"
Iphiginia's eyes widened in shock. The bright flags in her cheeks turned a darker shade of red. "There is no excuse for vulgarity," she said quite primly.
"You sound like a bloody schoolmistress."
"I am a bloody schoolmistress. Or, rather, I was at one time. I repeat, my lord, you did not violate your precious rules., I did. That makes all the difference, don't you see?"
"No," Marcus said.
"You're not responsible for what happened. I am." I
"Don't try to twist the logic of this situation. It is perfectly straightforward.»
"But Marcus, you cannot marry me and you know it." "Why not?"
She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Because in the eyes of Society I'm the mistress of the most notorious man in London, namely you, my lord."
"So?"
"We both know that a man in your position does not marry his mistress."
Marcus flattened his hands on the surface of the desk and met, Iphiginia eye to eye. "I make my own rules. Never forget that."
She blinked, straightened, and took a hasty step back. "But surely in a matter such as this-"
"In everything, Iphiginia."
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