Mistress - Amanda Quick [105]
“My connection with Juliana is vastly different.”
“No, it is not.” Marcus gave him a hard look. “You will bear in mind that I do not wish this news to be spread about until I am ready to make a formal announcement.”
“Do not concern yourself on that point,” Bennet said furiously. “I am not about to humiliate either of us by breathing so much as a word about a possible marriage between you and Mrs. Bright.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“It is too bloody dreadful to even contemplate, let alone to discuss in public.” Bennet stalked toward the door. “I shall pray that you come to your senses before you do anything so rash as to send word to the papers.”
“I would not hold my breath if I were you.”
“Damn it, this is abominable.” Bennet yanked open the door. He turned to glance over his shoulder. “She has done something to your brain, that’s what it is. I can only hope that you will recover from this strange fever before it is too late.”
“You were the one who feared I might become an automaton if I did not marry soon.”
“Mrs. Bright was definitely not what I had in mind as a bride for you.” Bennet stomped out into the hall and slammed the door.
Marcus sat quietly for a while. Then he got to his feet and crossed the room to the brandy table. He poured himself another glass and went to stand at the window.
He had done it, he thought. He had taken Iphiginia’s advice and violated several of his own rules in the process. Never explain, never discuss the past, never alter a decision or retreat from an objective.
So many rules broken in one night.
Perhaps Bennet was right. Iphiginia did seem to have inspired a sort of fever within his brain.
On the other hand, Marcus thought, he no longer felt as though he were turning into a clockwork man.
SIXTEEN
THE FOLLOWING EVENING ZOE SWOOPED DOWN ON Iphiginia at the Plans’ ball. “I have been looking for you all day, my dear. Didn’t you get the message I had sent ’round?”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Zoe. Apparently it did not reach me,” Iphiginia said placatingly. In point of fact, she had ignored the message that had arrived at the kitchen door earlier that day.
“Have you heard the latest?” Zoe searched her face. “They say that Masters is going to announce his betrothal before the end of the Season.”
“London is always rife with gossip, Aunt Zoe. As a connoisseur of rumors, you know that better than most.” Iphiginia smiled at Herbert, who was forging a path toward her through the throng. “There is a variety of news at the moment. For instance, I heard that Masters has made it clear that his brother is free to choose his own bride without fear of being cut off.”
“Yes, yes, but that hardly matters compared to this other business of his own marriage.” Zoe fixed her with a pointed look. “If it’s the truth, then Masters has broken one of his most firmly held rules.”
“Highly unlikely.” Iphiginia watched Herbert draw closer. He saw her and beamed good-naturedly. He carried a glass in one hand.
“I’m not so certain of that.” Zoe pursed her lips. “There is a title involved, after all. And a great deal of money. Perfectly natural that a man in his position would come to his senses eventually and do his duty. He is only thirty-six, after all. It’s not as though he’s got one foot in the grave.”
“The title can go to his brother.”
“Yes, but it’s not quite the same thing as having an heir of one’s blood, is it? It was bound to come to this, I suppose. But I am so sorry for you, my dear. I know it must be very painful. It’s been obvious for days that you’ve developed a tendre for the man. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, for the moment.” Iphiginia turned to Herbert, who had finally reached them. “Ah, some lemonade. I need it. Thank you, Herbert. You are always so thoughtful.”
“My pleasure. Whew. What a crush.” Herbert gallantly handed her the glass of lemonade and then reached into his