Mistress - Amanda Quick [12]
She eyed him speculatively. “You are going to be difficult, aren’t you?”
“We shall see.”
“I was afraid of this. Would you mind telling me if you are truly very angry about my impersonation, my lord?”
“You cannot determine that for yourself?”
“No, actually, I cannot. They say you are a deep one. I begin to understand what everyone means by that. Even after my extensive study of your nature, I still find there is much I do not know about you.”
“I suppose I should be grateful for that small favor,” he muttered.
“There is no need for sarcasm,” she said with an injured air.
In the golden glow cast by the coach lamps, Marcus could tell that, although she was putting a remarkably good face on the situation, she was really quite anxious.
Iphiginia sat very stiffly. Her huge, shadowed, sea-green eyes flickered frequently to the coach window. Marcus had a hunch that she was surreptitiously checking their location in order to verify that she was, indeed, being driven straight home. She had a death grip on her white fan.
Marcus was satisfied that Iphiginia was not nearly as cool and composed as she tried to appear. He refused to feel any sympathy for her. Considering what she had put him through earlier this evening and what was yet to come, she deserved to suffer a bit. She had made certain that the pair of them would be the choicest morsel of conversation at every breakfast table tomorrow morning and in every club in St. James tomorrow afternoon.
“I congratulate you again, Mrs. Bright.” Marcus inclined his head in a small gesture of mocking respect. “It is not every woman who could have duped Society into thinking she was my latest paramour.”
She bit her lip. “Thank you.”
“Quite a fascinating accomplishment, actually.”
He would never forget his first glimpse of her in the Fenwicks’ ballroom. In his view, Iphiginia had succeeded in making every other woman in the room appear either overdressed, underdressed, or gaudy. Marcus could not put his finger on why she looked so right, but he had been in the world long enough to recognize a woman with an intuitive artistic sense of style. It had nothing to do with her gowns or her accessories. It had everything to do with how she wore them.
“The choice of virginal white for your attire was a brilliant notion,” Marcus continued. “Outrageous, but brilliant.”
She hesitated, as if uncertain whether he was mocking her. Then she smiled tremulously. “One of the reasons I chose to go about in white is because you are said to favor black in your own attire and in many of your personal possessions.” With her gloved hand she indicated the elegant black carriage with its ebony fittings. “The rumors were accurate, I see.”
“Were you working on the hypothesis that I would be attracted to my opposite?”
Iphiginia considered that very seriously. “I do not subscribe to that particular theory myself. I believe like-minded people are drawn together, not true opposites. But I knew Society would jump to the wrong conclusion. Most people think that those of opposing natures are attracted to each other.”
“And it was Society that needed to be convinced.”
“Aunt Zoe feared my plan would not work, but I assured her that it was our only hope.”
“Ah, yes. Your little scheme to catch a blackmailer. I had almost forgotten about it.”
She glowered at him. “You do not believe a word I have said, do you, sir? I knew that you were very intelligent and everyone said you were quite arrogant about the fact, but I had not realized that you would be so stubborn.”
He chose to ignore the observation. “Tell me about your Aunt Zoe.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“There are a number of Zoes in Society. Which one is your aunt?”
Iphiginia’s brows snapped together. “She is Lady Guthrie. I must warn you that she and I have kept our family connection a secret, however. I felt it would be easier to carry out the masquerade if no one knew the truth. If people knew that I was her niece,