Mistress - Amanda Quick [131]
A short, stark silence fell.
And then a large, familiar figure moved in the doorway.
“You have taught me to break most of my other rules, Iphiginia,” Marcus said quietly. “Teach me to break this one, too.”
Everyone turned, dumbfounded, toward Marcus. They had all been so busy arguing that none of them had heard him come up the steps and open the front door.
Iphiginia met his eyes. A rush of longing went through her. She loved him so much, she thought. She had always known that they had been meant for each other.
She had to believe that he could learn to love her.
“Oh, Marcus.”
She flew toward the doorway and sailed into his arms.
Marcus caught her close and held her very tightly.
TWENTY
THE NEWS THAT DODGSON HAD SLITHERED OUT OF TOWN shortly after dark went unremarked by virtually everyone except Amelia. She wept with relief.
The truly riveting news, as far as the Polite World was concerned, was the engagement of the Earl of Masters to his notorious mistress, Mrs. Bright.
Word of the betrothal and the plans for a speedy marriage by special license flew through the ton. The curious and the amazed as well as a number of genuine well-wishers lay in wait at every point along the park paths that afternoon.
Perched boldly atop the high seat of Marcus’s sleek black phaeton, Iphiginia met stare after stare with a cool smile and a regal inclination of her head. She and Marcus dealt with the comments and veiled questions with bland civility.
That evening the inquisition began anew at every ball and soiree.
Herbert came up to Iphiginia at the Binghams’ ball.
“Cannot blame them, y’know,” he said, slanting a glance at two turbaned matrons who had just finished quizzing Iphiginia. “Word of your engagement took Society by surprise. I confess, I was rather startled, m’self.”
“So was I.” Iphiginia smiled at Herbert, relieved to see a friendly face. Zoe and Otis had disappeared a few minutes ago and Marcus, who had been helping her deal with the curious, had gone off to fetch some champagne.
Herbert gave her a kind, supportive smile, but his normally cheerful gaze was troubled. “No offense, m’dear, but are you certain you know what you’re doing? I realize that Masters is rich and there is the title. But marriage is a very serious proposition.”
“I assure you, I am aware of that.”
“Speaking as your friend, one who knows you infinitely better than Masters does, I beseech you to give the matter more consideration before you take any irrevocable steps. There are rumors that you intend to wed by special license. Surely you can wait before you rush into this?”
Iphiginia looked at him in surprise. “What makes you think you know me better than Masters does?”
Herbert gazed out over the crowded room. “I have felt that way from the beginning, Iphiginia. You and I have much in common. More than you realize. In a way, I believe that we are two of a kind.”
“I know that you wish to be a good friend to me and I very much appreciate it.” Iphiginia touched his sleeve. “But you must not concern yourself on my behalf. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Herbert looked at her. “I hope you are right, m’dear. I shall miss you.”
“Miss me?”
“I fear that once you are wed to Masters, I shall see a great deal less of you.”
“Mr. Hoyt, you are acting as though I am about to be locked away in a convent.”
“A harem, I believe, would be a better description,” Marcus said from just behind Iphiginia’s left shoulder.
She turned quickly to smile at him. “There you are, my lord. I did not see you return from the buffet table.”
“I know.” Marcus thrust a glass of champagne into her fingers, but his gaze rested on Herbert. “You were deep in conversation with your good friend Mr. Hoyt.”
Herbert inclined his head in a stiff nod. “ ’Evening, Masters. I was merely giving Mrs. Bright my best wishes on her forthcoming marriage.”
“Thank you, Herbert,” Iphiginia said gently.
“My pleasure.” Herbert took her gloved hand in his and kissed the back of it. “Whatever happens, Mrs. Bright, I want you to know that I shall treasure the friendship