Mistress - Amanda Quick [2]
“Some men will go to any length to be in fashion.”
“Speaking of fashion,” Trescott added, “her knowledge of classical antiquities has drawn a number of ladies into her circle of associates. You know how it is these days. Every female in Society is anxious to redecorate her house in the classical style. Each wants her decor to be more authentic than anyone else’s.”
“Antiquities,” Marcus repeated softly.
“All the rage right now and your Mrs. Bright seems to know a remarkable amount about the subject. Apparently she spent a year touring antiquities in Italy.” Trescott shook his head. “Must admit, I’m not overly fond of females endowed with intellectual natures.”
“Understandable, given your own nature.”
Trescott did not notice the insult. “Does her outrageous behavior mean nothing to you?”
“I find it …” Marcus paused, searching for the right word, “interesting.”
“Interesting. Is that all you can say? Devil take it, man, at this very moment you’re being humiliated by a former mistress in some of the best drawing rooms in London.”
“It may not be all I can say, but it is most certainly all that I intend to say. Have you finished delivering your news, Trescott?”
Trescott scowled. “Yes. Should think it would be enough.”
“It is. Quite enough. You will no doubt wish to be on your way.” Marcus glanced at the clock. “It will be growing dark soon and the nearest inn is some distance from here.”
Trescott’s mouth tightened. If he had expected an invitation to spend the night at Cloud Hall, he was sorely disappointed. He got to his feet.
“Good evening to you, Masters. I trust you will have a great deal to mull over tonight. Rather glad I’m not in your place just now. Damned embarrassing to have one’s mistress make a fool of one.”
Trescott turned and strode out of the library.
Marcus waited until the door had closed behind his visitor. Then he rose and crossed the room to stand at the window.
The sky was clear and cloudless, aglow with gold and peach, the fading hues of a spring day. It would be a good night for viewing the stars through his new telescope.
He had intended to spend the rest of the month here in Yorkshire. But now it appeared he would have to make arrangements to return to London earlier than he had anticipated.
His curiosity, a force that in him was as powerful as sexual desire, was deeply aroused.
In truth, in spite of what the London gossips believed, he did not have a current mistress.
He had not been involved with a woman for over four months. He and his last paramour, a strikingly beautiful widow in her late twenties, had gone their separate ways some time ago. The break had occurred after the lady had finally accepted the fact that Marcus did not intend to violate his rule against remarriage. The lovely widow had decided to pursue less elusive game.
Marcus could not help but wonder who the mysterious Mrs. Bright was. But he was even more intrigued by her daring.
Any woman who possessed the breathtaking courage to masquerade as his mistress at the highest levels of the ton promised to be interesting, indeed. Almost as interesting as the stars.
ONE
THE EARL OF MASTERS WAS ALIVE.
Iphiginia Bright nearly fainted for the first time in her life when the earl entered the glittering ballroom. Her surroundings went into a slow spin as she struggled with the staggering shock.
The last thing she had expected to discover that night or any other night was that Masters was not dead after all.
He was alive.
The shock receded as a dizzying sense of joy soared through her. Although she had never met him, she had spent a feverish fortnight learning everything she possibly could about the earl before she had gone into Society to masquerade as his mistress.
The most shattering thing that she had discovered