Mistress - Amanda Quick [89]
“Damnation,” Otis exclaimed. “She’s right. Cannot go changing her identity at this point. She’d be ruined.”
“We agreed at the beginning of this affair that when the matter was resolved I would disappear discreetly from the scene,” Iphiginia said. “But I have changed my mind.”
Zoe eyed her with grave interest. “You’re going to finish the Season as Masters’s mistress?”
“Yes.”
Zoe exchanged uneasy glances with Amelia and Otis. Then she turned back to Iphiginia. “Masters has agreed to this plan?”
“More or less,” Iphiginia said airily. There was no point in telling them that Marcus had actually insisted on marriage. She feared that they would all side with him.
And Iphiginia knew that she could not possibly marry Marcus unless she could find a way to make him fall in love with her.
Discovering the identity of the blackmailer had been a simple matter compared with her new problem.
She was confronted with the daunting task of persuading Marcus to change his own rules.
Iphiginia was aware of Amelia’s deep silence as they walked down the front steps of Zoe’s town house. Her companion said nothing until they had each been handed up into Iphiginia’s white and gilt carriage.
“Out with it, Amelia.” Iphiginia settled back against the white velvet cushions and arranged her skirts. “What is troubling you?”
Amelia watched her closely. “I sensed that you hesitated when you told your aunt and Lord Otis that you were certain the blackmail matter was concluded. Something is worrying you.”
The little carriage started to roll forward. Iphiginia looked out the window. It was nearly five o’clock in the afternoon. The street was filled with fashionable carriages en route to the park.
“What bothers me,” she said slowly, “is that Masters and I searched Mrs. Wycherley’s desk before we left yesterday.”
“So?”
“So we did not discover a seal engraved with a phoenix. Nor did we find any sign of black wax in her wax jack.”
“I can promise you that Constance Wycherley was many things, but she was no fool. She must have lived in constant fear of discovery. She would not have left any obvious evidence of her guilt lying about.”
“That’s what Marcus said. But if she was so very clever—shrewd enough to get away with blackmail, in point of fact—why did she make the serious mistake of trying to blackmail a friend of Masters? She must have known that she ran the risk of drawing him into the business.”
“Perhaps she had gotten away with blackmail for so long that she had grown quite bold,” Amelia suggested. “Or perhaps she got greedier. She may have needed more money to cover gaming debts or some such thing. Who can say?”
“I suppose we shall never have all the answers.”
“Come, Iphiginia. You have already admitted that what is really disturbing you now is that Masters’s hypothesis was the correct one.”
“My own was really quite good, you know.”
“It was. It just happened to be the wrong hypothesis. Now that the affair is over, what do you intend to do about your other problem?”
“What other problem?”
“I heard what you said in Aunt Zoe’s drawing room, but we both know that you cannot continue to masquerade as Masters’s mistress indefinitely.”
“I can carry on with it until the end of the Season.” Iphiginia cleared her throat delicately. “And you may as well know that it is not, strictly speaking, a masquerade.”
Amelia studied her with shadowed eyes. “I was very much afraid of that.”
Iphiginia gripped the strings of her white lace reticule. “Do not worry about me, Amelia.”
“You are not only my cousin, you are my dearest friend. I cannot help but worry about you.”
“Concern yourself with the financial arrangements for Bright Place. It will prove infinitely more profitable.”
“He will discard you without a qualm when he grows tired of you. You know that, do you not?”
“Perhaps I shall grow tired of him first,” Iphiginia said lightly.
“I wish I could believe that. I do not suppose there is anything I can say that will dissuade you from continuing on with this reckless business?