Mistress - Amanda Quick [73]
The only thing that was transparently clear in his mind was the memory of Iphiginia bending over him, terrified that she had somehow murdered him with her virginity. Her words still rang in his head.
I love you, Marcus.
She had been hysterical, of course, frantic at the thought that she’d accidentally killed him. That was the only reason she had said such a thing.
The next morning after breakfast, Lady Pettigrew regarded her departing guests with sincere regret. “I do wish the two of you could stay another day or so. We so enjoyed your visit, didn’t we, George?”
“Visit was fine,” Pettigrew muttered. He was having a hard time disguising his relief that at least two of the unwelcome guests were about to leave.
Lady Pettigrew turned to Iphiginia, who waited on the front steps as Marcus’s black phaeton was readied. “Mrs. Bright, I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to learn that my Temple of Vesta is indeed a proper sort of ruin.Thank you so much for taking the time to study and measure it for me.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Iphiginia was terribly conscious of Marcus standing next to her. His impatience was palpable.
“You do feel that our ruin is quite accurate?” Lady Pettigrew pressed.
“Yes, indeed,” Iphiginia murmured. She could feel Marcus’s laconic gaze resting on her.
“It is amazingly accurate in every detail,” Marcus said. “I toured it myself last night. I vow, with very little imagination, one could imagine the presence of a genuine temple virgin.”
Lady Pettigrew glowed with pride. “Really?”
“Not bloody likely,” Pettigrew muttered. “And you cannot tell me you’d have wanted one to actually put in an appearance, Masters. Whole world knows that you have a rule against getting involved with virgins.”
Iphiginia was annoyed. “Some rules are made to be broken, so far as I am concerned.”
ELEVEN
THE FOLLOWING MORNING BARCLAY WAS USHERED INTO THE library of Marcus’s town house. He sat down with a weary sigh, fumbled his spectacles into place, and withdrew several sheets of paper from a leather case.
Marcus leaned back in his chair and tried to restrain his seething curiosity while Barclay consulted a page of notes.
“Well?” Marcus said after what seemed an interminable length of time but which, in reality, was scarcely two minutes.
Barclay cleared his throat portentously and peered at Marcus over the gold wire frames of his spectacles. “To begin with, my lord, it appears that there never was a Mr. Bright. At least not one who was ever married to the current Mrs. Bright.”
“I’ve already learned that much.” The searing memory of the midnight tryst in the Temple of Vesta flashed through Marcus once again.
For the thousandth time he relived the glorious sensation of sinking himself into Iphiginia’s hot, snug body. And for what must have been the thousandth time, he felt himself grow heavy with arousal.
He could almost feel the silken lushness of her inner thighs. The recollection of her exquisitely shaped breasts shimmered tantalizingly in his mind. Her nipples had been so fresh and ripe. They tasted like nothing he had ever known. Her beautifully rounded derriere reminded him of some exquisite, exotic fruit he had once grown in his conservatory. And the scent of her would linger in his mind forever.
Barclay’s wiry brows connected in a solid line above his nose. “Begging your pardon, sir, but if you already knew that Mrs. Bright—I mean, Miss Bright—is no widow, d’you mind telling me why you sent me haring off to Devon?”
“I did not learn that particular fact until after you had left. Town.”
“How the devil did you discover it? I vow, no one here in Town knows.”
Marcus worked to keep his answer vague. “I learned the truth about the nonexistent Mr. Bright by using the same scientific methods I employ to discover other sorts of facts.”
Barclay looked confused. “You used a telescope or a microscope?”
“I used observation and deductive reasoning.” Marcus sat forward and rested his elbows on his desk. He clasped his hands together and