Amanda Quick: Mistress

"And Mrs. Wycherly refused to place her in any more posts after that," Iphiginia whispered.

"How did you know?" Herbert's voice, which had been almost jovial until that moment, suddenly rose in fury. His arm tightened around her throat. "Bloody hell, how did you know that?"

"It was merely a hypothesis," Iphiginia whispered. Marcus tensed. "You're hurting her, Hoyt.

"Don't move." Herbert kept the gun pointed at Marcus. "You are correct, Iphiginia. Mrs. Wycherly wanted nothing to do with a governess who'd been so stupid as to get herself pregnant by one of her employers. My mother was forced to fend for herself."

"You were the babe she carried, were you not?" — Iphiginia asked with surprising gentleness.

"Yes. I was her bastard son. The son of a viscount, but a bastard, nonetheless. Mother had some money, thanks to the fees Mrs. Wycherly had paid her for information over the years. And she was clever. She set herself up as a widow in a small village in the north. No one ever learned the truth."

"How did you learn it?" Marcus asked. "Two years ago on her deathbed, my mother told me the entire tale. I came to London to find Constance Wycherley."

"And your father?" Iphiginia asked very softly. Once more Hoyt's expression turned violent. "He was dead, damn his soul. He broke his neck in a phaeton accident five years ago. I never even got the chance-"

Herbert stopped abruptly and took several deep breaths. "I went to the Wycherly Agency and introduced myself to the old hitch."

"I see you've expanded your business empire from blackmail to fraud," Marcus said.

"Yes." Herbert indicated the premises of the museum with the nose of the pistol. "You would not believe how much money certain gentlemen of the ton will pay to regain their manly vigor, especially those who have not yet managed to produce an heir."

"I suppose there is a certain irony in your choice of business enterprise," Marcus said. "The illegitimate son of a titled gentleman engaged in defrauding other gentlemen.

"They are always so bloody concerned about begetting their legitimate heirs, are they not?" Herbert asked. "Their bastards can rot, of course. It's only the legitimate offspring who count."

Iphiginia stirred in his grasp. "Mr. Hoyt, please listen to me."

"Silence." Herbert's arms tightened ominously once more around her. "At one time I had hoped that you and I might become more than friends, my dear Iphiginia. We had so much in common. I wanted you to comprehend that, but you never did."

"What on earth do you mean?" Iphiginia asked. "You and I are two of a kind, m'dear. Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. I realized that from the first moment we met. You were so utterly outrageous. So clever. I knew I had to find out more about you. Your close friendship with Lady Guthrie was the clue, of course."

"All you had to do was examine Mrs. Wycherley's offices to discover that she had two nieces, one named Iphiginia Bright and one named Amelia Farley," Marcus said.

',Mrs. Wycherly kept excellent files," Herbert said. "Once I realized that Iphiginia was her niece, I knew she was also a fraud. One thing led to another and soon I had it A sorted out."

"What made you think we had a great deal in common?" Iphiginia demanded.

"It's obvious, is it not? We had both carved out a place for ourselves in the highest levels of Society by virtue of our own cleverness and determination. We had deceived the Polite World, convinced it to accept us as one of its own. I thought that we were made for each other, m'dear. But you insisted on setting your sights on the Earl of Masters."

"You thought she had entered Society in order to form a connection with me?" Marcus asked.

"I did not discover that she was trying to find her aunt's blackmailer until the night she went to Reeding Cemetery. Until then, I thought it was you she was out to snag. I could not blame her for aiming high Indeed, I admired her nerve. But I feared it would not end well."

"You intended to he there when her grand schemes came to naught, is that it?" Marcus asked.

"Yes. Damn you. Who could have foreseen that the legendary Masters would abandon all of his rules to marry his mistress?"

"You tried to destroy our attachment the night you sent her here to discover me with Lady Sands, did you not?" Marcus kept his gaze on Iphiginia, willing her to ready herself.

"Everyone, including Lord Sands, I think, believed that you and Lady Sands had been conducting a quiet affair for years. I expected I could convince Iphiginia of that, also."

"But why did you send Lord Sands here that night?" Iphiginia asked.

Marcus raised his brows. "Hoyt no doubt hoped that Sands would kill me when he found me with his wife."

Herbert gave him an approving look. "Quite right. Sands is inordinately fond of his lady. My congratulations, sir. You really are as intelligent as everyone says."

"Thank you."

Marcus dropped his cloak over the lantern, plunging the room into darkness.

"Bastard," Herbert yelled. "Do not move." He shrieked in startled pain. "Damnation, you bit me, you little bitch."

An audible scuffle ensued.

Marcus slipped to the right in hopes of avoiding a bullet. He went in low and fast toward his quarry. He could see nothing. He was forced to rely on sound to guide him.

Herbert's pistol roared. The sparks from the explosion momentarily illuminated his face. His well-fed, normally pleasant countenance appeared demonic.

An instant later, Marcus slammed into him.

They both went down, rolling on the floor. The pistol fell with a crash. Marcus heard Iphiginia's footsteps as she groped her way toward the covered lantern. He sincerely hoped she would reach it before his coat caught fire.

Herbert yelled and clawed at Marcus, his rage imbuing him with surprising strength. He thrashed free for an instant. Marcus heard him stagger to his feet.

Iphiginia got the coat off the lantern at that moment. Light flooded the chamber.

Marcus came up off the floor in one move. He used the sudden gift of visibility to aim a blow at Herbert's midsection. Herbert sagged but did not go down. Instead, he reeled toward the lantern.

He kicked out savagely at the flaring lamp.

Glass shattered. Oil spilled. Flames leaped to follow the path of the fuel-.

"My God," Iphiginia shouted. "The bed."

Out of the corner of his eyes Marcus saw her grab his coat and begin to beat at the flames.

"Get out, Iphiginia," he shouted.

"If the flames reach the bed or those ceding hangings, this whole budding will become an inferno."

Marcus knew that she was right. And if the budding went UP in flames, there was no telling how much damage might be done or how many lives might be lost. There were bound to be several families sleeping in the rooms above the many shops in Lamb Lane.

Herbert seized the opportunity created by the distraction. He lurched toward the door. Marcus instinctively went after him.

He reached the door and beard his quarry's footsteps pound down the darkened hall. A second later the outer door opened. A weak shaft of light illuminated Herbert's bulky figure.

Marcus ran the length of the hall. He reached the outside landing just as Herbert started down the shadowed steps.

"You're not getting away, you little bastard." Marcus grabbed the railing with one hand and reached out to snag Herbert by the collar.

"Goddamn you, Masters." Hoyt swung out wildly to ward off Marcus's arm.

The frantic motion caused the panicked man to lose his balance. He fell against the rail, spun around, and toppled backward down the steps.

Hoyt's short, anguished scream was cut off abruptly when he hit the pavement below.

Marcus looked down at the unmoving body. There was just enough light to see that Hoyt's neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. The man was dead.