Mistress - Amanda Quick [111]
“Do you know something, Amelia? Being a mistress is a bloody complicated business.”
“I am told that being a wife is even more difficult,” Amelia said.
“Yes, I suppose that is quite true.”
But if Marcus loved her, Iphiginia thought wistfully, she would take the chance.
The note was waiting for Iphiginia on the white velvet seat of her carriage that afternoon when she returned from a shopping expedition. She was seized with a sense of foreboding when she saw the folded sheet of foolscap.
She waited until the coachman had closed the door before she reached out to pick up the note. She saw with relief that there was no sign of black wax or a phoenix seal.
Slowly she unfolded the note and read the contents.
My Dearest Pandora.
If you wish to open the box and discover the truth about the past, present, and future you must come to Number Nineteen Lamb Lane off Pall Mall tonight on the stroke of midnight.
Come alone. Tell no one and all will be made clear.
If you do not come, or if you fail to come alone, someone you care about will suffer the consequences. Your sister, perhaps? Or will it be
Lady Guthrie, your aunt?
Yrs.
A Friend
Iphiginia’s fingers trembled as she carefully refolded the note.
Your sister.
Your aunt.
The words seemed to burn straight through the paper. The threat was not the least bit subtle. Whoever knew that she possessed a sister and that Zoe was her aunt, knew everything, Iphiginia realized.
My Dearest Pandora…
Iphiginia quickly reopened the note and studied the salutation. Pandora was a clear reference to the Greek tale of the lady who had given in to temptation to open the magic box and in so doing had unleashed chaos and woe.
Iphiginia felt a kinship with Pandora at that moment.
Whoever had sent the note had apparently noted the similarity.
Iphiginia had given in to the temptation of an affair with Marcus and trouble was now abroad in her world.
SEVENTEEN
GAS LIGHTS HAD NOT YET BEEN INSTALLED IN LAMB LANE. The narrow street, lined with small shops, huddled in the shadows. The pale glow of a fitful moon provided just enough illumination to reveal that the hackney which carried Iphiginia was the only vehicle in the vicinity.
The coach came to a halt with a clatter of wheels and harness. Iphiginia started when the coachman rapped on the roof to announce their destination.
“Number Nineteen Lamb Lane,” the man called loudly.
Iphiginia gathered her dark cloak around her and pulled the hood over her head. She opened the carriage door and cautiously descended to the pavement.
“Do not forget,” she said to the man on the box. “I have paid you to wait for me.”
“I’ll be waitin’,” the coachman muttered in a surly voice. “But there’ll be an extra fee if ye bring any of yer clients back ‘ere.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Ye heard me. If yer thinkin’ o’ usin’ me coach fer a bedchamber tonight, ye’ll ‘ave to pay me a fair rent. I’ll give ye the usual hourly rate I give the other girls.”
Iphiginia felt herself turn hot with embarrassment and anger. “What on earth do you think I am about, my good man?”
“Same as what most of the other wenches are about at this time o’ night in this part o’ Town. Business. Go on, now. Just keep in mind that I’ll be wantin’ me fair share if ye use me coach.”
She did not have the time to deliver a scathing lecture to a drunken coachman. Iphiginia turned away, disgusted, and studied the darkened entrance to Number Nineteen. There was just enough moonlight to make out the sign over the door.
DR. HARDSTAFF’S MUSEUM
OF THE GODDESSES OF MANLY VIGOR
LEARN THE SECRET AND AUTHENTICINVIGORATING POWERS
OF THE GODDESSES OF ANTIQUITY
It appeared that her curiosity about Dr. Hardstaff’s museum was about to be satisfied, Iphiginia thought.
A glance over her shoulder assured her that the coachman was still waiting in the street. She saw that the carriage lamps burned with a reassuring glow.
Iphiginia went toward the darkened premises