Mistress - Amanda Quick [115]
Iphiginia took a deep breath and forced herself to move. She picked up one of the large urns that had been positioned on the stage. It was surprisingly light. “Now what?”
“Strike yer pose. Don’t ye know anythin’ about this business? Dr. Hardstaff gets right cranky if the patients don’t get their money’s worth.” Polly picked up her urn and struck what she undoubtedly believed to be a classical pose.
It finally dawned on Iphiginia that she and Polly were performers in a transparency show.
The transparency curtain acted as a veil, concealing the details of her features while it revealed the clear outline of her figure.
The lamps, strategically situated behind the two women, produced a ghostly scene.
Iphiginia had seen a handful of such productions, but they had all been of an educational nature. The last one, which she had attended with Amelia, had featured an extremely edifying tableau illustrating the classical ruins of Herculaneum.
But the scene staged by herself and Polly tonight was clearly designed to be of a much less elevating nature. Iphiginia had a horrible suspicion that her gossamer white silk skirts afforded little or no modesty. The flaring lamps were placed so as to render Polly’s attire virtually transparent.
Iphiginia clutched her urn more securely and held it directly in front of herself. She prayed that it was large enough to cover a goodly portion of her torso. With any luck only a hazy view of her legs, head, and shoulders would be visible through the gauzy transparency screen.
“The goddess on the left isn’t bad,” Sands drawled with icy sarcasm. “But the one on the right is a bit slender for my taste. What do you think, Masters?”
Iphiginia flushed as she realized that she was the goddess on the right.
“I’ve never been fond of transparency shows,” Marcus said. “If I had realized that Hardstaff ’s famous production consisted of something this tame, I would have found other ways to amuse myself this evening.”
Iphiginia looked helplessly at Polly.
Polly winked. “Don’t ye worry. We’ll impress ’em.” She altered her pose to one that displayed her ample bosom to better advantage. “Personally, I’m real fond o’ the job,” she whispered. “Much easier on a girl than workin’ flat on her back.”
“I can imagine,” Iphiginia muttered.
“Give ’em a few good poses and they’ll go off ’appy as larks.” Polly shifted her urn slightly, arched her back, and thrust her bosom upward. “They always do.”
Iphiginia did not dare move. She kept her urn positioned firmly in front of herself.
“Seen enough, Sands?” Marcus asked. “I have. My curiosity is satisfied. Dr. Hardstaff’s miracle treatment is not nearly so entertaining as I had been led to believe.”
“I’ve seen more than enough,” Sands said roughly. “Now it’s time for a few answers.”
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the curtain again. Sands was coming toward the stage.
“Damnation” Marcus’s bootsteps thudded on the floor behind Sands. “Don’t touch that curtain. You’ll upset the actresses.”
“Do you think I give a damn about these wenches? I want to know why someone sent me here tonight. I’m through playing games.”
Iphiginia saw Sands’s hand appear at the edge of the gauzy curtain. He grabbed a fistful of the fine fabric and yanked hard. The delicate transparency curtain ripped loose from the hooks in the ceiling.
Iphiginia and Polly were fully revealed.
“See ’ere now,” Polly scolded, outraged. “What do ye think yer doin’? Yer goin’ to pay fer that curtain, not us.”
Sands ignored her. He stared at Iphiginia, astounded. “Mrs. Bright. What the devil are you doing here?”
She smiled weakly. “Good evening, Lord Sands. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“Rest assured I know who you are, madam,” Sands said grimly.
Iphiginia blushed. “Yes, well, as you have no doubt guessed, I am part of the treatment Dr. Hardstaff designed especially for Masters.”
“His treatment?” Sands shot a scathing glance at Marcus, who raised his brows slightly but said nothing. Sands turned to Iphiginia. “Forgive me, Mrs. Bright, but I find that a little difficult to believe.”
“But