Amanda Quick - Mistress

Marcus took a single step closer. His face was ruthless in the shadowy lamplight. It was your choice to go about London disguised as my paramour, was it not?

Iphiginia took a wary step back. Well, yes, initially, I suppose one could say it was my idea. However

Let me make something plain to you. If you expect me to allow you to continue playing this part, you will follow my advice to the letter.

She lifted her chin. Sir, I shall play this part as I see fit.

No, madam, you will not. Marcus reached out and grasped the statue behind her, effectively caging her between his arms. I am the authority on this role. I created the role. Therefore I shall direct you in it.

He brought his mouth down on hers, pinning her against the stone.

She heard him groan. It was a rough, dark sound that came from deep in his chest. He leaned closer, his body as hard as the statues but infinitely warmer.

She was supposed to be acting out a role, Iphiginia reminded herself But everything suddenly felt very real.

Bantam Books by Amanda Quick
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AFFAIR
DANGEROUS
DECEPTION
DESIRE
MISCHIEF
MYSTIQUE
RAVISHED
RECKLESS
RENDEZVOUS
SCANDAL
SEDUCTION
SURRENDER
WITH THIS RING
I THEE WED
WICKED WIDOW
SLIGHTLY SHADY

And coming in summer 2002
DONT LOOK BACK

T O ALBERTA CASTLE,
MOTHER AND FRIEND,
WITH LOVE FROM A GRATEFUL
DAUGHTER

Y OUR LATEST MISTRESS IS CREATING A SENSATION BACK IN London, Masters. Society finds her vastly entertaining. Charles Trescott, seated before the fireplace, downed a swallow of brandy and eyed his host with a sly expression. As youve taken a notion to rusticate here in the country at the height of the Season for some odd reason, I thought youd better know whats going on back in Town.

Very thoughtful of you to go out of your way to give me the latest gossip.

Least I could do, especially since its your name that is on everyones lips at the moment. I know how that sort of thing annoys you. Trescott, bored and dissolute at thirty, paused with a barely concealed air of anticipation.

You are mistaken, Trescott. I do not give a bloody damn what the ton chooses to gossip about over tea.

Trescott was disappointed but undaunted. In the manner of a willful child intent on provoking a lion in a cage, he made another stab at eliciting a reaction. Must admit, Im as curious as everyone else to know why youre letting her get away with her outrageous conduct. Whole world knows that you always insist on discretion from your paramours. Thought that requirement was one of your infamous rules.

Marcus Valerius Cloud, Earl of Masters, turned the crystal brandy glass slowly between his large, callused hands. He studied the reflected glow of the flames imprisoned within the heavily cut glass.

Several months ago he had grown interested in the curious properties of light and glass. He had undertaken extensive experiments with prisms and mirrors.

Those studies had led him to his current passion for telescopes. Astronomy had proven so fascinating that he had left London at the height of the Season this year in order to pursue his experiments at one of his more remote estates. The night skies here in Yorkshire were pristine and clear, unlike the smoke-filled air of the city which impeded the view through his new telescope.

It had always been thus for him. Ever since he had been a lad growing up on his familys farm in Yorkshire, he had been endlessly enthralled with matters of a mechanical, technical, or scientific nature.

From carriage springs to clocks, from music boxes to the stars, he had a passion for discovery, invention, and a need to comprehend the rules and laws that dictated the way things worked.

Marcus liked rules, especially his own. He had a personal set which he had formulated several years ago and from which he never deviated. They were simple and straightforward:

Never remarry.

Never discuss the past.

Never explain his actions to others.

Never retreat from an objective or alter a
decision. Never get involved with virgins or other mens wives.

Marcus looked up from his contemplation of the brandy glass. He had never particularly cared for Trescott. The man was typical of so many of the self-indulgent, licentious rakes of the ton, men whose own personal rules allowed them to prey on the innocent and those whose social ranking was lower than their own.

Tell me what the lady has been doing to cause such comment, Marcus said in a deliberately disinterested tone.

Trescotts gaze glittered with malice. Rumor has it that she has dismissed you and is trolling for a new lover. All of London is agog.

Indeed.

Mrs. Bright descended on the ton a fortnight ago and has taken it by storm. No one can believe that you have actually allowed your mistress to hand you your cong. Really quite extraordinary, given your, shall we say, notorious reputation?

Marcus smiled slightly but said nothing.

Unsatisfied with that reaction, Trescott recklessly tried another sort of prod. You know very well that you are considered to be the most mysterious and quite possibly the most dangerous man in all of London.

As is the case with beauty, Trescott, mystery and danger are in the eyes of the beholder.

The rumors about your past guarantee that you qualify as a full-fledged legend, Masters. Naturally any woman who has the nerve to throw you over is bound to excite comment and speculation.

Naturally.

Trescott narrowed his eyes. I will allow that the lady is unusual, even for you, sir. Where did you ever discover such a charming widow?

You have seen her?

Of course. Trescott chuckled. Mrs. Bright is seen everywhere. No soiree or ball is a success without her. Your mistress is by far the most fascinating creature Society has viewed in years.

Do you find her fascinating, Trescott?

Certainly. Everyone does. They call her Lady Starlight, you know.

Do they?

Trescott shrugged. Not that shes a great beauty, of course. But then, you would know that better than anyone. Still, theres something about her that draws the eye, is there not? Expect her nickname was derived from her choice of attire.

Ah, yes. Her gowns.

Trescott grinned malevolently. Imagine, the recent paramour of the most notorious lord of the ton going about in purest white as though she were a bloody virgin. Utterly outrageous.

Marcus stopped rotating the brandy glass in his hands. He looked at Trescott. She still favors white?

Never wears anything else, Trescott assured him. A genuine Original. By the bye, that ridiculous little white and gilt carriage of hers is the envy of every woman in town. Ill wager it cost you a packet. Mind if I ask how much of the ready you put out for it?

I do not seem to recall at the moment. Marcus glanced into the fire.

I expect you bought her so many expensive trinkets and baubles that the white carriage and those excellent white mares that go with it went unnoticed, hmm?

I pay very little attention to such matters.

Trescott groaned. Must be pleasant to be as rich as Croesus. Well, no offense, sir, but its obvious that she got her little claws rather deeply into you before she decided to look for another lover.