Mistress - Amanda Quick [117]
Iphiginia flushed. “We were not playing games, sir.”
Sands’s mouth curved derisively. “You may call this nonsense whatever you wish, madam. It is entirely your affair.”
Marcus studied Sands’s pacing figure. “I expect whoever sent you here was hoping that you would spread the tale of this night’s events far and wide.”
“What do you mean?” Sands demanded.
“I suspect that the real target of the jest was not you, but my friend Mrs. Bright,” Marcus said in a very soft voice. “I intend to see that the culprit pays for it.”
Iphiginia stared at him. It was obvious that Marcus was very serious.
Sands paused abruptly. He swung around and considered Iphiginia intently. “You believe that someone wished to see Mrs. Bright humiliated?”
“Yes.”
“But why?” Sands asked.
“Because whoever it is does not want me to marry her,” Marcus said simply.
“Marry her.” Sands stared. “You’re going to marry Mrs. Bright? Your, uh, very close friend?”
“Yes.” Marcus looked at Iphiginia. “We have not yet made a formal announcement, however, so I trust you will remain silent for the time being?”
Iphiginia opened her mouth to argue but closed it again when she realized that any protest would only cause Sands to ask more pointed questions.
Sands frowned. “I had heard the rumor that you were going to announce your engagement. But I naturally assumed you would offer for one of the young … ah, er, never mind.” He coughed discreetly and inclined his head at Iphiginia. “Please accept my best wishes, Mrs. Bright.”
“Thank you.” She glowered at Marcus, furious with him for forcing her into the awkward situation of verifying the marriage. “Let us hope that Dr. Hardstaff’s cure takes effect before we celebrate our wedding night.”
Sands grinned. He suddenly looked much younger and a good deal more likable. “I shall wish you the best of luck in that regard, also. By the bye, you need have no fear that I will tell anyone about this evening’s events.”
“I appreciate that,” Iphiginia said.
“I doubt anyone would even believe me. Whole thing is too bloody outrageous.” Sands started toward the door. “Do you know something? I believe the two of you were made for each other. Now, if you will forgive me, I’ll be on my way.” He cast a derisive glance at the paintings on the walls of the chamber as he opened the door. “Unlike yourself, Masters, I do not have any need of Dr. Hardstaff’s therapeutic treatments.”
“How very fortunate for you,” Marcus said.
Silence fell once more as the door closed behind Lord Sands.
Iphiginia and Marcus listened to his receding footsteps as he went down the hall and opened the outside door.
A moment later they heard the door close.
Iphiginia heaved a sigh of relief and then she rounded on Marcus. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Lord Sands will be waiting for the notices of our marriage to appear in the papers. How could you?”
“I supplied him with the only answer that was guaranteed to distract him.”
“But what will he think when he never sees the formal announcement? He’s bound to wonder if you lied to him. Perhaps he’ll conclude that he was duped.”
“I shall worry about that later. In the meantime, I have a more pressing problem on my hands.”
“Oh, really?” Iphiginia planted her hands on her hips. “And just what might that be, pray tell? Perhaps you would care to explain what you’re doing in this very odd chamber, my lord?”
The side door opened, cutting off Iphiginia’s tirade. She stared at the newcomer in shock. She had never been properly introduced to Lady Sands, but Zoe had once pointed her out at a ball.
Hannah, covered from head to foot in a dark cloak, walked out onto the stage. She smiled at Iphiginia with sad apology.
“I believe Marcus is referring to me, Mrs. Bright. I fear that I have been a nuisance to him for some time.”
Before Iphiginia could respond, the chamber door swung inward with a small squeak. Lord Sands walked back into the room. He carried his shoes in one hand.
“As long as Masters is going to explain matters,” Sands said in an icy voice, “he may as well explain them to all concerned.