"I do not understand, sir." "No, I don't suppose you do yet. But you soon will. In the meantime, you must allow me to retain some air of mystery, Mrs. Bright. I am known for it, you see."
She eyed him speculatively. "You are going to be difficult, aren't you?"
"We shall see." "I was afraid of this. Would you mind telling me if you are truly very angry about my impersonation, my lord?"
"You cannot determine that for yourself "No, actually, I cannot. They say you are a deep one. I begin to understand what everyone means by that. Even after my extensive study of your nature, I still find there is much I do not know about you."
"I suppose I should be grateful for that small favor," he muttered.
"There is no need for sarcasm," she said with an injured air.
In the golden glow cast by the coach lamps, Marcus could tell that, although she was putting a remarkably good face on the situation, she was really quite anxious. Iphiginia sat very stiffly. Her huge, shadowed, sea green eyes flickered frequently to the coach window. Marcus had a hunch that she was surreptitiously checking their location in order to verify that she was, indeed, being driven straight home. She had a death grip on her white fan.
Marcus was satisfied that Iphiginia was not nearly cool and composed as she tried to appear. He refused to feel any sympathy for her. Considering what she had put,him through earlier this evening and what was yet to come, she deserved to suffer a bit. She had made certain that the pair of them would he the choicest morsel of conversation at every breakfast table tomorrow morning and in every club in St. James tomorrow afternoon.
I congratulate you again, Mrs. Bright." Marcus inclined his head in a small gesture of mocking respect. "It is not every woman who could have duped Society into thinking she was my latest paramour."
She bit her lip. "Thank you." "Quite a fascinating accomplishment, actually." He would never forget his first glimpse of her in the Fenwicks' ballroom. In his view, Iphiginia had succeeded in making every other woman in the room appear either overdressed, underdressed, or gaudy. Marcus could not put his finger on why she looked so right, but he had been in the world long enough to recognize a woman with an intuitive artistic sense of style. It had nothing to do with her gowns or her accessories. It had everything to do with how she wore them.
"The choice of virginal white for your attire was a brilliant notion," Marcus continued. "Outrageous, but brilliant."
She hesitated, as if uncertain whether he was mocking her. Then she smiled tremulously. "One of the reasons I chose to go about in white is because you are said to favor black in your own attire and in many of your personal possessions." With her gloved hand she indicated the elegant black carriage with its ebony fittings. "The rumors were accurate, I see."
"Were you working on the hypothesis that I would he attracted to my opposite?"
Iphiginia considered that very seriously. "I do not subscribe to that particular theory myself. I believe likeminded people are drawn together, not true opposites. But I knew Society would jump to the wrong conclusion. Most people think that those of opposing natures are attracted to each other."
"And it was Society that needed to be convinced." "Aunt Zoe feared my plan would not work, but I assured her that it was our only hope."
"Ah yes. Your little scheme to catch a blackmailer. I had almost forgotten about it."
She glowered at him. "You do not believe a word I,have said, do you, sir? I knew that you were very intelligent and everyone said you were quite arrogant about the fact, but I had not realized that you would he so stubborn."
He chose to ignore the observation. "Tell me about your Aunt Zoe."
"What do you wish to know?" "There are a number of Zoes in Society. Which one is your aunt?"
Iphiginia's brows snapped together. "She is Lady Guthrie. I must warn you that she and I have kept our family connection a secret, however. I felt it would be easier to carry but the masquerade if no one knew the truth. If people knew that I was her niece, it might give rise to too many questions about me, you see."
"Of course," Marcus murmured. "It was essential that you remain a mystery to the Polite World."
"Extremely essential, sir. One question would soon lead to another and I might have been unmasked before I had accomplished my goal. At the very least the blackmailer might have realized that I was not your mistress."
"I see." "Society believes Zoe and I to be friends, but nothing more. That explanation provides an excuse for us to he seen together rather frequently."
Marcus mentally ran through a list of the people who moved in his world. His memory was excellent. He was quite certain he had never met Zoe, Lady Guthrie. "I seem to recall that a certain Lord Guthrie belonged to one or two of my clubs. I believe he died a year ago."
"Aunt Zoe is Guthrie's widow."
"I do not believe that I have had the pleasure of meeting her."
"No. That is the curious thing about all this," Iphiginia said quickly. "Aunt Zoe told me that the two of you had never been introduced. She has seen you from a distance at parties and balls and Guthrie had mentioned your name in a casual way, but that was all."
"Yet your blackmailer claimed that we were both on his list of victims?"
"Yes. Rather odd, don't you think?"
"I find this entire situation rather odd."
"My lord, I swear to you, this is not a joke or a game. There really is a blackmailer out there somewhere and he is threatening my aunt. I concluded that there must be some connection between your circle of acquaintances and that of my aunt's."
"You're forgetting one thing here, Mrs. Bright," Marcus said calmly. "I am not being blackmailed."
She scowled. "You're quite certain of that, my lord?" "It is not the sort thing that would slip one's mind." Iphiginia's soft mouth firmed. "No, I suppose not.
But why would the blackmailer make reference to you when he threatened my aunt?"
Marcus glanced out into the busy night streets. "The reference, if it was made, was obviously a ruse designed to terrify your aunt and convince her to pay the extortion money.
"The reference was indeed made, sir," Iphiginia insisted.
"Tell me, just how far did you get in your investigation?"
"Well, as to that, I was making considerable progress," she said eagerly. "I have already succeeded in searching Mr. Darrow's and Lord Judson's studies."
"You what?" She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical glance. "I said I have had opportunities to search Darrow's and Judson's studies. I took advantage of invitations that I received to soirees that were held in their homes. I managed to slip into their studies in the course of the evening and search their desks."
She was serious, he realized. "Damnation, woman, are you mad? I don't believe this. Why would you want to search their studies in the first place? What did you hope to discover?"
"Black wax and a seal engraved with a phoenix," she said succinctly. "Both were used to seal the blackmail notes that Aunt Zoe received."
"Bloody hell." Marcus was too stunned by her audacity to think clearly for a few seconds. He finally collected his thoughts. "Black scaling wax is not uncommon. I use it myself."
"I know, but you are unusual in that you use it for your routine correspondence, my lord. Most people employ black wax only for mourning. And you must admit that a phoenix seal is uncommon. In fact, the use of a seal, any sort of seal, is, in itself, distinctive. One would think that the average blackmailer would use a simple wafer to seal his letters."