Mistress - Amanda Quick [112]
She was far more anxious this evening than she had been the night she paid the visit to Reeding Cemetery. The threats contained in the note that she had found in her carriage had jarred her nerves as nothing else could have done.
When Iphiginia got close to the sign for Dr. Hardstaff’s Museum, she noticed a painted hand at the bottom. The pointing finger urged visitors to go down the narrow walkway between two buildings.
Iphiginia peered hesitantly into the thick shadows of the tiny alley. She could just make out a flight of steps that led to the upper story of the building.
With one last glance at the hackney, Iphiginia started down the alley.
She climbed the stairs as quietly as possible, her pulse beating more rapidly with each step. Every squeak, every groan of the treads sent a shiver through her. The darkness seemed to grow more and more dense around her.
She should not have come here alone.
But there had been no choice.
At the top of the stairs she paused and studied the closed door in front of her. Another sign, this one barely discernible in the shadows, indicated that this was the entrance to Dr. Hardstaff’s Museum.
The rumble of carriage wheels in the street jolted Iphiginia just as she put her hand on the knob. The hackney was abandoning her.
“No,” she gasped, and turned to rush back down the steps.
The lights of a second carriage appeared. Iphiginia halted, one foot on the landing, one on the first step. Her hackney had not left, she realized. Another one had arrived.
It rolled to a halt near her own. Horses stomped their hooves. Voices echoed through the shadows.
“Wait for me,” a man ordered crisply.
“Aye, m’lord. Take yer time. Brung a gennelman here last week what spent most of the night.” The new coachman chuckled heartily. “Dr. Hardstaff’s goddesses give quite a cure, they tell me. Wonder if it works.”
“I shall not be long,” the newcomer said.
Footsteps sounded on the paving stones. They paused briefly. And then, to Iphiginia’s horror, they started toward the narrow alley where she hovered at the top of the stairs.
Fear ripped through her. In a matter of seconds the man who had gotten out of the second hackney would come down the alley. It was obvious he was en route to Dr. Hardstaff’s Museum. He would surely see her as soon as he mounted the stairs.
She could not go back down the staircase without running straight into the stranger, so Iphiginia did the only thing she could do. She turned the knob that was pressing into her lower back.
The door opened with only a small squeak of its hinges. Intent on watching the staircase, Iphiginia backed into a darkened hall. She closed the door very carefully.
A man’s arm came out of the intense shadows of the hall. It wrapped around Iphiginia’s throat.
She was dragged against a broad chest as a rough palm clamped over her mouth. Her incipient scream was cut off before it could escape.
“Bloody hell,” Marcus muttered. “Iphiginia?”
She nodded wildly. Relief rushed through her, draining her.
“What in the name of the devil—” Marcus took his hand away from her mouth.
“Someone’s coming up the stairs, Marcus,” she whispered frantically. “He’ll be here any second.”
“Damn.” Marcus released her and grabbed her hand. “This way. Hurry. Don’t make a sound.”
She needed no second urging. The newcomer’s footsteps thudded on the stairs outside.
Marcus yanked Iphiginia down a dark hall, opened a door, and tugged her into a large room that was dimly lit by a single wall sconce.
“What in the world?” Iphiginia gazed about in astonishment. “What is this place?”
The lamplight revealed the most oddly furnished chamber Iphiginia had ever seen. Exotic drapery hung from the ceiling in the style of a Turkish tent. A large bed dominated the center of the room. It was decorated with gauzy hangings and an extraordinary number of pillows. It was surrounded by erotic statuary of the sort Lord Lartmore favored.
The walls were decorated with huge murals depicting