Zoe sighed. "I don't know. It all sounds so vague." "We have nothing better to go on at the moment." Iphiginia broke off when she caught a flash of purple out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, hello, Mr. Hornby. We are still studying this illustration, as you can see."

"Of course." Hornby, unable to resist the temptation to encourage potential clients, sidled closer. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance?" He gave Iphiginia, Zoe, and Amelia an unctuous smile.

Iphiginia thought quickly. "This is a most unusual decoration above the fireplace in this design, Mr. Hornby."

Hornby beamed. "It is an exact copy of an ancient sepulchral ruin, madam. It gives the library a serious, weighty sort of atmosphere, quite suited to the characteristic use of such a chamber."

"I see," Iphiginia said. "Very interesting." Zoe peered more closely at the illustration. "What on earth are those odd creatures that support the lamps?"

"Sphinxes, madam. All the rage at the moment, you know. They go rather well with the Egyptian hieroglyphic wallpaper."

"Yes, of course."

Amelia frowned. "What is all this drapery hanging from the ceiling, Mr. Hornby

"Turkish tent hangings, madam. They provide an exotic air that will astound visitors."

"It certainly will," Iphiginia murmured. She surveyed the picture quite closely. "The room appears to contain a somewhat mixed collection of antique vases."

"All are exact copies of antiques in the Etruscan style, madam. Exceedingly fashionable."

Iphiginia elected not to point out that the vases were no more Etruscan in design than his paisley waistcoat. "Where do you plan to put the books?"

"The books?" Mr. Horn looked baffled. "It is a library, is it not?" Iphiginia said.

Horn assumed a politely superior air. "Madam perhaps is not aware that few people of fashion actually use a library for the purpose of reading these days."

Iphiginia concealed a smile. "Of course. I do not know what I was thinking to even mention books."

"Quite right, madam," Hornby said. "It is precisely the wish to avoid such decorating mistakes that brings persons of taste to a firm such as Hornby and Smith."

Amelia frowned. "Mr. Hornby, you are obviously not aware that Mrs. Bright is accounted an expert in matters of antique design."

Hornby's eyes widened. "Uh, no. No, I was not. Forgive me, madam. I had not realized."

Iphiginia waved aside his stammered apology. "Quite all right."

Her expertise in antiquities had been one of the most useful elements of her masquerade. Zoe had quickly fed the rumor mill with the news that the mysterious Mrs. Bright had a scholar's knowledge of the antique style, the latest fashion in home decoration.

Iphiginia had been an immediate success at every bag, as there was no shortage of people who wanted to discuss their decorating schemes with her. Maintaining a fashionable home was as essential as being au courant in one's dress.

Before Hornby could apologize further, the small bells over the shop door tinkled discreetly. A short round woman of middle years bustled into the showroom. She was a vision in several yards of flounced and ruffled white muslin.

Her gown was trimmed with a white spencer and she wore a massive white hat trimmed with huge white flowers. She carried a lacy white parasol and a snowy white reticule.

"Good grief,". Zoe muttered as she gazed in awe at the newcomer. "Lady Pettigrew looks like a giant snowball."

"It is not my fault," Iphiginia whispered. Amelia raised a brow. "It certainly is. They are calling it the Lady Starlight fashion. Any number of ladies are determined to wear it."

"Oh, Mrs. Bright," Lady Pettigrew sang out. "I thought I saw your carriage in the street. How fortunate. I have been most anxious to speak to you. Do you have a moment?"

"Good morning, Lady Pettigrew." Iphiginia had encountered the plump, vague, eccentric Lady Pettigrew at a number of social affairs. Although the woman's husband was on Iphiginia's list of potential blackmailers, Iphiginia was rather fond of Lady Pettigrew. "Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Lady Guthrie, and my cousin, Miss Farley."

"Delighted." Lady Pettigrew smiled benignly at Zoe and Amelia. "I assume you are seeking Mrs. Bright's opinion on a matter of classical taste and fashion, Lady Guthrie? That is precisely what I wish to do."

"As a matter of fact, I have asked Mrs. Bright to give me her advice on how to use antique vases to the best effect in my town house," Zoe said smoothly.

Lady Pettigrew beamed enthusiastically. "It is well known that Mrs. Bright is an authority on the archaeological style. I, myself, wish to consult with her about my Temple of Vesta."

That piqued Iphiginia's interest. "Are you constructing an antique temple, Lady Pettigrew?"

"Actually, I already possess one," Lady Pettigrew said, not without a touch of pride. "It is a wonderful old ruin located in a charming grove on the grounds of our country house in Hampshire."

"How old is it?" Iphiginia asked. "It was built about thirty years ago by Pettigrew's father. The thing is, I am not entirely certain it is accurate in every detail. I should very much like to restore it properly."

In spite of her more pressing concerns, Iphiginia was captivated by the prospect of examining the Pettigrew ruin. "As it happens, I made careful measurements and sketches of the ruin of a genuine Temple of Vesta while I was in Italy. I would he happy to compare them with your ruin, Lady Pettigrew. I might he able to offer some suggestions on how to produce a more precise copy."

"Wonderful, wonderful. I am giving a small house party next week. I shall send you an invitation. Our estate is only a day's journey from London."

"That is very kind of you. I should love to come." It was a perfect opportunity, Iphiginia thought jubilantly. The house party would give her a chance to search through Lord Pettigrew's country house library to see if he had black scaling wax and a phoenix seal concealed there. At the same time she would be able to view the Temple of Vesta. Two birds with one stone.

The shop chimes banged suddenly and with such force that one tiny bell shuddered, bounced, and fell to the floor. It emitted a tiny, stricken clang and then fell silent. Everyone turned toward the door as it opened. Marcus strode into the showroom. He was dressed for riding in a black coat, breeches, and gleaming ebony Hessians. He was bareheaded and his dark hair was windblown.

His amber eyes fixed instantly on Iphiginia with an expression of chilling intent. He started toward her, moving like a raw, dangerous force of nature through the samples of dainty drawing room furniture and the displays of fashionable drapery.

A deep sense of unease snaked through Iphiginia. Something was decidedly wrong, she realized. This was not the indulgent, casually amused man who had kissed her last night.

It was Lady Pettigrew who broke the taut, tense silence that had settled on the shop the moment Marcus appeared. She fluttered cheerfully.

"Masters," she exclaimed. "How good to see you. was just chatting with your close friend, Mrs. Bright."

"Were you, indeed?" Marcus did not take his eyes off Iphiginia. "I am about to have a chat with her myself."

Iphiginia blinked at the tone of his voice. She saw Amelia's eyes narrow.

Heedless of the undercurrents, Lady Pettigrew smiled brightly at Marcus and gave him a shrewd, knowing look. "I have invited her to attend a small gathering at my country house next week. Perhaps you would also care to visit? I know you are not overly fond of house parties."

"No, I am not."

"But you may be quite interested in this one, my lord." Lady Pettigrew arched one brow. "I'm certain you and Mrs. Bright would thoroughly enjoy a stay in the country. So much privacy available, you know."