Mistress - Amanda Quick [88]
The artificial man stared straight ahead, looking neither to the right nor to the left, heedless of what lay before it or behind it. It had no past and no future. Its present was governed by the inflexible rules of a mechanical universe.
It did not know pain.
But neither did it know joy.
“There is a small item in the morning papers concerning the death of Mrs. Wycherley,” Zoe said. “No mention of her being a blackmailer, of course. Good lord, who would believe it?” She flung herself back against the elegant curve of her red velvet Roman sofa. “It is utterly astounding.”
“It is the only conclusion that Masters and I were able to reach.” Iphiginia picked up her teacup.
“I can hardly credit it,” Zoe said. “It is simply too fantastical.”
Lord Otis’s bushy brows drew together in a considering scowl. “Has a certain logic to it when you think about it.”
“Yes, it does,” Amelia said. “It explains why Iphiginia could not discover a clear link between Guthrie’s circle of friends and that of Lord Masters. There wasn’t one.”
“So much for all my clandestine searches for black sealing wax and a seal engraved with a phoenix.” Iphiginia heaved a small sigh of regret. “I was so certain that I was on to something there.”
“How positively brilliant of Masters to hit upon the notion of making inquiries into the whereabouts of our former paid companions,” Zoe said in tones of great admiration.
Iphiginia rolled her eyes. “His original hypothesis was not entirely correct, you know. Neither of the companions proved to be the blackmailer.”
“No, but his theory led straight to the real blackmailer,” Otis observed. “Man has an excellent intellect.”
Iphiginia made a face. “Yes, and he is well aware of it.”
Amelia gave her one of her infrequent smiles. “I do believe that you are somewhat jealous, Iphiginia.”
“Well, I was quite partial to my own hypothesis,” she admitted. “Masters’s notion is fascinating, however. And Otis is right, it’s very logical. Just think, all those years Mrs. Wycherley was using certain governesses and companions to collect damning information about some of the best families.”
“I never really cared for Miss Todd,” Zoe said. “She had eyes that reminded me of a small rat. I did not retain her for long.”
“You should have let her go much earlier than you did,” Amelia remarked. “She was obviously around long enough to conclude that Maryanne was not Guthrie’s daughter.”
“Obviously.” Zoe shook her head. “One wonders how many other victims the woman had. Is every house in London infested with spies?”
“I doubt it.” Iphiginia pursed her lips. “From all indications, Mrs. Wycherley was very selective and quite cautious, at least until recently. She no doubt chose her victims carefully.”
“Hah.” Otis’s whiskers twitched. “She made a serious blunder when she undertook to expand her list of victims to include my Zoe and a good friend of the Earl of Masters, by God.”
“Yes,” Iphiginia said. “She did.”
“Well, it’s over at last, thank heavens.” Zoe helped herself to a small pink cake from the tea tray. “Now we can get on with the Season. I confess I have had some difficulty planning Maryanne’s marriage, what with this blackmail business hanging over my head.”
Otis gave Iphiginia a shrewd look. “Masters is certain this is the end of the matter?”
Iphiginia hesitated. “He seems quite satisfied that it is.”
“Well, then, that’s the end of it,” Otis declared.
“Yes.” Iphiginia rose to her feet and picked up her white bonnet. “Amelia and I must be on our way. We have an appointment with our man of affairs. Perhaps we shall see you at the theater later this evening.”
“Very likely,” Zoe said cheerfully. “What a relief it will be to be able to sit in my box without wondering if a blackmailer’s eyes are fastened upon me.”
“There’s just one more thing.” Iphiginia fixed each of the other three in turn with a deliberate look. “I trust that you all realize that merely because the blackmail situation is finished, nothing else has changed.”
Zoe looked blank. “Whatever are you talking about, Iphiginia?”
“For all