Mistress - Amanda Quick [102]
The footman rapped on the carriage door. “M’lord, do you wish to descend?”
“One moment, Jenkins.” Marcus shook himself out of his momentary reverie. “Turn around,” he muttered to Iphiginia. “The bodice of your gown is twisted and that plume looks as though it’s about to fall out of your hair.”
“Yes, my lord. I cannot imagine how I came to be in such disarray.” Iphiginia obediently turned her back toward him and sat patiently while he fumbled with her gown.
“There, now, let me see you.” Marcus turned her about again and surveyed his handiwork with a critical eye. He scowled at the loop of hair that still danced over Iphiginia’s right ear. “Give me a pin.”
She reached up and removed one from her chignon. “Here you are, sir. Pray do not stick yourself.”
“Stop giggling. The footman will think I am tickling you.”
“Yes, my lord.” Mirth bubbled up inside her once more.
Marcus pinned the fallen coil into place. “With any luck that will hold until you get inside.”
“I’m certain that it will, sir. You have a talent for mechanical things.”
He unlatched the carriage door and shoved it open. Jenkins, waiting patiently outside, turned with an impassive expression and set down the step.
Marcus hid a smile as he watched Iphiginia descend with grand dignity just as though she had been doing nothing more unconventional than conversing about classical antiquities for the past half hour.
When she reached the pavement she gave Jenkins a smile which appeared to temporarily blind the man.
“Thank you,” she murmured to the footman.
She would make a perfect countess, Marcus thought.
He walked her to her door and saw her safely inside. It took every ounce of his willpower to stay outside on the front steps. He had an almost overpowering urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her up the stairs to her bedchamber.
“You were quite correct about one thing, my lord,” Iphiginia whispered in a soft, dreamy voice as he made to close the door.
He paused on the step. “What was that?”
“It was much better this time.”
He grinned. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? I actually survived a second encounter. It was not even necessary to summon a doctor to revive me afterward.”
Iphiginia smiled with smug satisfaction. “Obviously you are possessed of a very strong constitution, my lord.”
“Obviously.”
Marcus closed the door and went down the steps to where his carriage waited. He whistled softly and took a deep breath of the midnight air.
“A fine night, m’lord,” Jenkins said as he opened the carriage door.
“It is indeed. Tell Dinks to take us home.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
Marcus vaulted up into the carriage and settled onto the seat where he and Iphiginia had made love. Pale white satin gleamed against the ebony velvet.
He picked up Iphiginia’s glove. It lay as soft as a swath of starlight across his broad, muscled palm. He closed his hand very tightly around it.
• • •
Marcus went straight to the library the moment he got home. He had a long time to contemplate his decision while he waited for his brother to return from his night on the town. It was nearly three in the morning before Ben-net’s carriage rumbled to a halt in front of the town house.
Marcus cradled his brandy glass in his hands and waited for the door of the library to slam open.
He did not have to wait long.
Bennet stormed into the room. “Lovelace says you wish to speak to me.”
“Yes.”
Bennet stalked to the hearth, flung one arm out along the marble mantel, and took up a stance of sullen defiance. “Well, what is it, then? I cannot imagine what more we have to say to each other, brother.”
Marcus gazed into the fire. “I regret my attempt to interfere in your plans for marriage to Miss Dorchester.”
Bennet stared at him. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” Marcus took a sip of his brandy. “I should not have tried to scare off the Dorchesters. I had no right to threaten to cut you off from the family fortune, especially, since I never had any intention of following through on the threat. It was a bluff.”
“Marcus, what are you saying?