Mistress - Amanda Quick [3]
She had fully expected him to remain a figure of her most intimate fantasies forever. But here he was, a living, breathing reality.
And when he learned who she was and what she had done, he would surely despise her.
“Good God, I don’t believe it,” Lord Ellis muttered. “Masters is here.”
Iphiginia gazed, speechless, at the tall, powerfully built man who was descending the blue-carpeted staircase with such casual arrogance. A part of her was stunned to realize that he was just as she had imagined him to be: dark-haired, coldly proud, a man who lived by his own rules. She could not believe her eyes.
Neither could anyone else, apparently.
The scene in the ballroom froze into absolute stillness for a single heartbeat. A stunned hush fell upon the crowd.
It seemed to Iphiginia as though the brilliantly gowned ladies and elegantly dressed men were all caught in a drop of liquid amber that hardened instantly, imprisoning them. Even the flames of the massed candles in the huge crystal chandeliers appeared to still for an instant.
In the next heartbeat the amber turned to liquid once more and released its captives.
Freed from their frozen state, the sparkling creatures began to flutter like so many brilliant insects. Shimmers of excitement ruffled their gaudy wings. Greedy anticipation lit their hard, faceted eyes.
Iphiginia knew what prompted the anticipation in those around her. A scene was expected—a scene that would generate gossip for days.
She also knew that the astonishment of the crowd stemmed from the fact that Masters had not been expected to put in an appearance tonight. He was presumed to be out of Town on a lengthy visit to one of his estates. Certainly no one had thought that he would show up here to confront his former mistress.
Only Iphiginia and those closest to her had believed him dead. They had been told as much in the blackmailer’s horrid note. That missive had made it clear that Iphiginia’s Aunt Zoe, Lady Guthrie, would be next to die if she did not meet the villain’s demands.
But here was Masters in the flesh and there was no denying that he was not only alive, he appeared quite fit. He radiated the dangerous vitality of a large beast of prey.
Obviously the blackmailer had lied. He had cleverly taken advantage of Masters’s disappearance from London in order to terrify Zoe.
Torn between euphoria and despair, Iphiginia watched Masters’s relentless approach and realized that all her carefully laid plans had suddenly been plunged into utter chaos.
An entirely new sort of disaster threatened, one that would affect her and those near and dear to her. Masters would not be pleased to learn that he had a mistress whom he had never even met. A mistress, moreover, who had allowed the ton to believe that she was shopping for a replacement for him.
He would surely make quick work of the trappings of her masquerade, she thought. He would shred them to ribbons, leaving her exposed to Society as the fraud she was.
Iphiginia’s heart raced as she listened to the low-voiced conversation that broke out among the group of gentlemen standing nearby.
“Masters always did have incredible nerve” Lord Lartmore, specter-faced and cadaverously thin, jerked his champagne glass toward his mouth and emptied it in a single swallow. “Never thought he’d show up in any ballroom where Lady Starlight was holding court, though. Too bloody humiliating.”
“By Jove, this should prove interesting.” Darrow, a middle-aged man whose paunch was not well concealed by the poor cut of his coat, cast a speculative eye at Iphiginia.
Herbert Hoyt leaned closer to Iphiginia in a touchingly protective manner. His normally cheerful blue eyes were troubled. “I say, this could prove a trifle awkward. The generals did not invent the extremely useful tactic known as strategic retreat without good reason, m’dear. Would you care to employ it? I stand ready to assist you, as always.”
Iphiginia fought