Mistress - Amanda Quick [80]
Iphiginia was seized with a sense of panic. “Such as?”
Marcus’s amber eyes gleamed. “Such as a certain academy for young ladies, a village called Deepford, and a sister who is married to the son of the most important family in the neighborhood. In short, Iphiginia, I know everything.”
She felt as though she’d had the wind knocked out of her. She sank slowly back down into her chair. “How did you discover so much about me?”
“That is not important. What is important is that if I was able to learn the truth, others can and no doubt will eventually discover it, also.”
Iphiginia was dazed by his blunt revelations. He had learned so much in such a short period of time. It was unnerving. “Sir, I believe you are telling me this because you are about to present me with a choice of two options.”
He cocked a brow. “Two?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin. “You are going to tell me that I must either leave Town immediately before anyone else stumbles onto the truth or else I shall have to consider an offer of marriage from you. Is that not right?”
“You are wrong, Iphiginia.”
She looked at him with renewed hope. “I am?”
“Under the circumstances, there is only one option, not two. That option is marriage.”
“Never,” Iphiginia said loudly, resolutely, ‘and so forcefully that she knew Marcus could not possibly guess that her heart was breaking. “Absolutely impossible. Out of the question. The entire notion cannot even be considered.”
Marcus smiled grimly. “One of the most interesting things I have learned in the course of my scientific studies is that there are very few things which are impossible.”
TWELVE
YOU AND YOUR BLOODY RULES,” IPHIGINIA SAID FIERCELY. She leaned forward and planted both of her hands flat on her desk. Her eyes were brilliant with outrage. “That’s what this is all about, is it not? You believe that you broke one of your damnable rules and therefore you have to pay the price.”
“Calm yourself, Iphiginia. You are becoming overwrought.”
“I will not calm myself and I will not be married because of Masters’s Rules. Do you hear me, sir?”
“I hear you.” Marcus set his jaw and kept his face impassive as he refolded his tea-stained handkerchief. It occurred to him that, what with one thing and another, he spent a great deal of time mopping up tea in Iphiginia’s study. “But I do not believe that you have given the matter due consideration.”
“Do not lecture me as though I were a schoolgirl, sir. I am a rational, educated, intelligent woman, not a foolish child. Of course I gave the matter proper consideration.”
She would fight him every inch of the way. Anger flared in Marcus as he realized just how difficult his task would be. “You call masquerading as a notorious widow and my mistress the action of a rational, educated, intelligent woman?”
“You were not nearly so scathing about my masquerade before you discovered that I was not a widow. In fact, if memory serves, you were quite willing to go along with the plan. You rather liked the notion of having a new and unusual mistress, did you not, sir?”
“That was before we took a midnight tour of Pettigrew’s Temple of Vesta and discovered that the damn antiquity was so authentic there was still a Vestal Virgin hanging about the place.”
She looked desperate now. “Marcus, that is a very minor detail. You must not let it influence your actions.”
“I shall be the judge of what influences my actions.”
“Damnation, sir, nothing has changed.”
“That’s not true. One element of this farce has most certainly changed.”
“It’s not a farce.” She glared at him. “It was a very clever scheme which has every chance of producing results. Society still believes me to be a widow and it is convinced that I am your mistress. Every element of the plan remains intact.”
“But for how long?”
“For as long as we wish,” she retorted. “No one other than yourself has questioned my authenticity.”
“It’s only a matter of time before someone else decides to go to Devon to ask a few questions.”
“Nonsense. Why would