"I have no intention of keeping a dawn appointment with you, Sands."

"Then stay away from Hannah." "Did Hannah tell you that I had met with her this morning?"

"She did not have to tell me. I heard about it from an acquaintance, who had been told by someone else that you both were seen entering the park at an early hour."

Marcus shrugged. "You have my word of honor that I have no designs on your lady. Since you pay attention to rumors, I trust you will have heard by now that I am presently spending a great deal of my time in the company of a charming widow named Mrs. Bright."

"I have beard about your so-called Lady Starlight. She sounds just your sort. If you are wise, you will confine your attentions to her."

"I fully intend to do just that." Marcus glanced once more at the clock. "If you will excuse me, I shall go in search of the lady herself. She and I have arranged to meet at the Richardsons ball. Good night, Sands." Marcus inclined his head in a pleasant fashion and walked past Sands toward the door.

Iphiginia Bright had complicated his life no end, he reflected a few minutes later as he vaulted into his black, carriage. Now, on top of everything else, he was being hounded by a jealous husband.

Half an hour later, Marcus stalked back down the steps of the Richardson town house. He was no longer brooding over the difficulties Iphiginia presented. He was furious.,

It had never occurred to him that she would ignore his instructions to rendezvous with him at the Richardsons . Marcus was not accustomed to having his orders brushed aside. But that was not the worst of it.

What really annoyed him was that he had a strong suspicion that she had gone to the Lartmore mansion.

Marcus hesitated just as he was about to get back into his carriage. The London streets were choked with vehicles of A] descriptions. It was midnight at the height of the Season and everyone who was anyone was in motion, traveling from one soiree to another. It could easily take a good forty minutes for his coachman to forge a path to the Lartmore mansion.

"I'll go on foot," Marcus called up to Dinks. "Meet me at the Lartmore house."

"Aye, my lord," Dinks muttered from the box. "Watch yer back. All kinds out on a night such as this."

"I'll he careful." Marcus paced swiftly along the crowded thoroughfare. His path was dimly lit by the gas lamps that had recently been installed in this section of Town.

He moved through clumps of drunken dandies on their way to the gaming hells off St. James, clusters of brightly garbed fops en route to heckle the actors at the theater, and young men consumed with Byronesque ennui who were headed for adventure in the stews. Marcus sincerely hoped that Bennet was not among the last group.

Here and there prostitutes solicited passersby from shadowed doorways. A surly-looking individual dressed in a cap and baggy pants eyed the cut of Marcus's finely tailored clothes, but he did not attempt to leave the shelter of an alley.

A hare fifteen minutes later Marcus walked up the wide steps of the Lartmore mansion. Ale footman on duty in the hall bowed and did not ask to see his invitation. He headed straight for the balcony that overlooked the crowded ballroom.

Marcus planted both hands on the railing and looked out over the glittering scene. He searched the crowd for a glowing figure dressed in virginal white.

"I believe you will find her in the statuary hall, Masters. Lartmore invited her to, ah, survey his antiquities." Herbert Hoyt chuckled as he came up behind Marcus. "I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you. She assured me that she can handle Lartmore'

Marcus turned to study Herbert's amused face. He did not know the man well, but he knew the type. Hoyt was a harmless sort. "How do you know where Mrs. Bright is at this particular moment?"

Herbert lounged his well-padded thigh against the railing and took a sip of champagne from the glass in his pudgy hand. "Because I was with her when she asked Lartmore for a tour."

"I see." "Mrs. Bright is an authority on classical statuary and architectural design, you know."

"Yes, I know." "She and I have had numerous enthralling discussions on the subject of ancient architecture. She recently loaned me her copy of Grayson's Illustrations of Classical Antiquities. Have you read it, sir?"

"No, I have not." Marcus was in no mood to listen to another man, even harmless Herbert Hoyt as he chattered on about his close friendship with Iphiginia. "Excuse me."

Herbert gave him an apologetic look. "I did try to hint to her that she might not want to view Lartmore's statuary collection, but she was adamant. In my experience it's almost impossible to stop Mrs. Bright from doing exactly as she wishes."

"So it would seem." Marcus made to move past the other man.

"I congratulate you, sir. Mrs. Bright is a most fascinating lady. But then, I am always captivated by a female who gives one the impression that she is not quite what she appears to be."

Marcus stopped and turned back. "What the devil do you mean by that, Hoyt?"

Herbert held up a hand and hastily swallowed his mouthful of champagne. "Beg pardon. No offense intended, I assure you. It's the element of mystery she projects, you see. Gives the lady an enticing elusive quality, don't you think?"

"Mrs. Bright is a mystery only to some," Marcus said very softly. "To me she is an open book. We understand each other very well."

"I see." Herbert's brow wrinkled in a perplexed expression. "Then you were no doubt already aware of her keen interest in Lartmore's statuary. I must admit, it came as something of a surprise to me."

Whether Herbert H" was harmless or otherwise, Marcus had an almost overpowering urge to toss him over the raging. He told himself that it would be a futile exercise. Hoyt had not stated anything that everyone else who knew of Iphiginia's visit to Lartmore's statuary hall was not already thinking.

Marcus turned on his heel and walked away without a word. He knew where to find Iphiginia. Lartmore's collection of erotic statuary was famous among the males of the ton.

THIS ONE IS CALLED ECSTASY. YOU WILL NOTICE THE BOLDLY modeled curves of the female form, my dear Mrs. Bright." Lord Lartmore stroked the extraordinarily large breast of a stone figure with his skeletal hands. "Only the ancients could invest their work with such lush power." He tweaked a nipple. "What a pity that today's artists have lost that vitality."

Iphiginia swallowed and stared at the statue. She fought to conceal her shock. She had more than a passing familiarity with the work of the ancient sculptors. But she had never seen anything to compare with the figures in Lartmore's statuary hall.

It was not that the large-bosomed statue which Lartmore fondled with such a lascivious touch was nude that startled Iphiginia. She had seen any number of unclad classical statues. It was the odd pose of the figure that left her momentarily speechless.

The stone female sat astride the naked loins of a reclining male figure. Her thighs were splayed wide, emphasizing the cleft in bet buttocks. Her spine was arched, her head was thrown back, her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open in an expression of what could only be acute agony.

The male figure looked to be suffering equal torment as he jutted his hips upward. It was apparent that his stone shaft was buried deep within the marble woman.

"Most unusual," Iphiginia managed weakly. She hoped the lamplight concealed her hot face.

"And so provocative to the passionate senses, don't you agree?" Lartmore gestured with a limp hand to indicate the dimly lit room. The eyes in his skull glittered. "My collection is filled with the unique and the unusual, as you will see. I insist that every piece of statuary I collect he imbued with true antique sensibilities."