"Understandable, given your own nature." Trescott did not notice the insult. "Does her outrageous behavior mean nothing to you?"

"I find it", Marcus paused, searching for the right word, "interesting."

"Interesting. Is that all you can say? Devil take it, man, at this very moment You're being humiliated by a former mistress in some of the best drawing rooms in London."

"It Fray not be all I can say, but it is most certainly all that I intend to say. Have you finished delivering your news, Trescott?»

Trescott scowled. "Yes. Should think it would he enough."

"It is. Quite enough. You will no doubt wish to be on Marcus glanced at the clock. "It will be growing dark soon and the nearest inn is some distance from here."

Trescott's mouth tightened. If he had expected an invitation to spend the night at Cloud Hall, he was sorely disappointed. He got to his feet.

"Good evening to you, Masters. I trust you will have a great deal to mull over tonight. Rather glad I'm not in your place just now. Damned embarrassing to have one's mistress make a fool of one."

Trescott turned and strode out of the library.

Marcus waited until the door had closed behind his visitor. Then he rose and crossed the room to stand at the window.

The sky was clear and cloudless, aglow with gold and peach, the fading hues of a spring day. It would be a good night for viewing the stars through his new telescope.

He had intended to spend the rest of the month here in Yorkshire. But now it appeared he would have to make arrangements to return to London earlier than he had anticipated.

His curiosity, a force that in him was as powerful as sexual desire, was deeply aroused.

In truth, in spite of what the London gossips believed, he did not have a current mistress.

He had not been involved with a woman for over four months. He and his last paramour, a strikingly beautiful widow in her late twenties, had gone their separate ways some time ago. The break had occurred after the lady had finally accepted the fact that Marcus did not intend to violate his rule against remarriage. The lovely widow had decided to pursue less elusive game.

Marcus could not help but wonder who the mysterious Mrs. Bright was. But he was even more intrigued by her daring.

Any woman who possessed the breathtaking courage to masquerade as his mistress at the highest levels of the ton promised to he interesting, indeed. Almost as interesting as the stars.

THE EARL OF MASTERS WAS ALIVE. Iphiginia Bright nearly fainted for the first time in her life when the earl entered the glittering ballroom. Her surroundings went into a slow spin as she struggled with the staggering shock.

The last thing she had expected to discover that night or any other night was that Masters was not dead after all.

He was alive. The shock receded as a dizzying sense of joy soared through her. Although she had never met him, she had spent a feverish fortnight learning everything she possibly could about the earl before she had gone into Society to masquerade as his mistress.

The most shattering thing that she had discovered during the course of her study was that he was the man of her dreams; a man she could have loved as she had never loved anyone else; the right man for her.

She had fully expected him to remain a figure of her most intimate fantasies forever. But here he was, a living, breathing reality.

And when he learned who she was and what she had done, he would surely despise her. "Good God, I don't believe it," Lord Ellis muttered.

"Masters is here."

Iphiginia gazed, speechless, at the tan, powerfully built man who was descending the blue-carpeted staircase with such casual arrogance. A part of her was stunned to realize that he was just as she had imagined him to be: dark-haired, coldly proud, a man who lived by his own rules. She could not believe her eyes.

Neither could anyone else, apparently. The scene in the ballroom froze into absolute stillness for a single heartbeat. A stunned hush fen upon the crowd.

It seemed to Iphiginia as though the brilliantly gowned ladies and elegantly dressed men were an caught in a drop of liquid amber that hardened instantly, imprisoning them. Even the flames of the massed candies in the huge crystal chandeliers appeared to still for an instant.

In the next heartbeat the amber turned to liquid once more and released its captives.

Freed from their frozen state, the sparkling creatures began to flutter like so many brilliant insects. Shimmers of excitement ruffled their gaudy wings. Greedy anticipation lit their hard, faceted eyes.

Iphiginia knew what prompted the anticipation in those around her. A scene was expected-a scene that would generate gossip for days.

She also knew that the astonishment of the crowd stemmed from the fact that Masters had not been expected to put in an appearance tonight. He was presumed to be out of Town on a lengthy visit to one of his estates. Certainly no one had thought that he would show up here to confront his former mistress.

Only Iphiginia and those closest to her had believed him dead. They had been told as much in the blackmailer's horrid note. That missive had made it clear that Iphiginia's Aunt Zoe, Lady Guthrie, would be next to die if she did not meet the villain's demands.

But here was Masters in the flesh and there was no denying that he was not only alive, he appeared quite fit. He radiated the dangerous vitality of a large beast of prey.

Obviously the blackmailer had lied. He had cleverly taken advantage of Masters's disappearance from London in order to terrorize Zoe.

Tom between euphoria and despair, Iphiginia watched Masters's relentless approach and realized that all bet carefully laid plans had suddenly been plunged into utter chaos.

An entirely new sort of disaster threatened, one that would affect her and those near and dear to her. Masters would not he pleased to learn that he had a mistress whom he had never even met. A mistress, moreover, who had allowed the ton to believe that she was shopping for a replacement for him.

He would surely make quick work of the trappings of her masquerade, she thought. He would shred them to ribbons, leaving her exposed to Society as the fraud she was.

Iphiginia's heart raced as she listened to the low voiced conversation that broke out among the group of gentlemen standing nearby.

"Masters always did have incredible nerve." Lord Lartmore, specter-faced and cadaverously thin, jerked his champagne glass toward his mouth and emptied it in a single swallow. "Never thought he'd show up in any ballroom where Lady Starlight was holding court, though. Too bloody humiliating."

"By jove, this should prove interesting." Darrow, a middle-aged man whose paunch was not well concealed by the poor cut of his coat, cast a speculative eye at Iphiginia.

Herbert Hoyt leaned closer to Iphiginia in a touchingly protective manner. His normally cheerful blue eyes were troubled. "I say, this could prove a trifle awkward. The generals did not invent the extremely useful tactic known as strategic retreat without good reason, m'dear.

Would you care to employ it? I stand ready to assist you, as always."

Iphiginia fought to compose herself. It was difficult to draw a complete breath. This could not be happening. There must be some mistake.

Her fingers, which were lightly resting on Herbert's sleeve trembled. "Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Hoyt. Masters is not about to create a scene for the entertainment of the ton.

I wouldn't count on it." Herbert studied the rippling wake in the crowd that marked Masters's progress across the room. "One never knows what he'll do. Man's an enigma."