Mistress - Amanda Quick [116]
“Hardstaff is a damned quack,” Sands said. “Everyone knows that.”
“I didn’t,” Iphiginia said. She gave Marcus another urgent look, but he appeared bored by the entire affair. She began to grow annoyed.
“Come now, Mrs. Bright,” Sands said. “Every gentleman in Town is well aware that Hardstaff’s so-called treatments for impotence are nothing more than titillating transparency shows. They are staged by pretty little whores who make themselves available after the performance.”
“ ’Ere, now,” Polly snapped. “That’s a bloody lie, it is. I’m an actress.”
“That’s certainly one word for your profession,” Sands agreed.
Iphiginia concluded that, in the absence of any assistance from Marcus, she had no choice but to take an aggressive tack. “How would you know whether or not Dr. Hardstaff’s treatments were legitimate unless you’d taken one, my lord?”
“Aye, that’s a bloody good question,” Polly said. “And I ain’t never noticed you in this chamber o’ the Goddesses o’ Manly Vigor before. Stands to reason ye don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”
“Quite right,” Iphiginia said staunchly. “You’ve been forming your opinions on hearsay, sir.”
“It’s common knowledge that the treatments are at best a fraud,” Sands retorted furiously.
“Nonsense,” Iphiginia insisted. “We have every hope of a cure, don’t we, Masters?”
Marcus gave her a dangerous look.
Polly put her hands on her hips and glowered ferociously at Sands. “I know lots o’ fine gennelmen who was miraculously cured by one o’ these treatments.”
Sands narrowed his eyes. “Is that a fact?”
“Aye, it’s a fact, all right.” Polly lifted her chin proudly. “I’ve seen gennelmen come in ’ere what ’adn’t been able to raise the flag fer years. When they left, they was as stiff as a poker.”
“There, you see?” Iphiginia said brightly. “A testimonial from one who should know.”
“Enough of this nonsense.” Marcus finally deigned to intervene. He drew a handful of notes out of his pocket and thrust them into Polly’s hand. “You’ve given us a fine performance, madam. You may take your bows and leave. We won’t be needing your services any longer.”
Polly snatched the notes from him. “Are ye certain?”
“Quite certain,” Marcus said.
“Well, all right, then.” Polly smiled cheerfully at Iphiginia. “Nice workin’ with ye, Mrs. Bright. Ye’ve got some potential, in me ’umble opinion. With a bit o’ practice, I ’ave a ’unch ye’ll get the ’ang o’ this actin’ profession.”
“Thank you,” Iphiginia said politely. “I shall work hard to perfect my craft.”
“Reckon I’ll be on me way, then.” Polly sauntered to the side door.
Iphiginia, Marcus, and Sands watched as she let herself out of the chamber of the Goddesses of Manly Vigor.
A short silence ensued after the door closed.
Marcus broke the strange spell that seemed to have settled onto the chamber. He stepped onto the stage and walked along the row of stage lamps, turning them off one by one. “As the evening appears to have degenerated into a complete farce, I suggest we take our leave, Mrs. Bright.”
“Yes, of course.” Iphiginia set down her urn.
Sands scowled at Marcus. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I think it’s safe to say that we have all been the victim of an unpleasant joke, Sands.” Marcus left the last lamp burning.
“It makes no sense.” Sands shoved his hands into his pockets and began to pace the chamber. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Someone who knows that you are suspicious of my long-standing friendship with your wife, naturally.” Marcus propped one shoulder against the wall, folded his arms, and contemplated Sands. “There are any number of people in this world who take great delight in stirring troubled waters. You know that as well as I do.”
Sands gave him a cold look and continued to pace. “But what did the villain expect to happen when I arrived here tonight and discovered that you were playing games with Mrs. Bright rather