Marcus picked up his wax seal and turned it in his fingers. "Not a great deal of money, then."

"No, m'lord, but Miss Bright appears to he rather enterprising in matters of finances."

Marcus got a chill in his gut. "What do you mean by that?"

"The first thing Miss Bright did after recovering from the shock of finding herself alone in the world with a young sister to support was to sell off the last of her mother's paintings and her father's pattern books. She used the money to open an academy for young ladies."

Marcus nearly dropped the seal on the desk. He stared at Barclay. "Miss Bright gave instruction to young ladies?"

"Yes, m'lord." "Deportment, manners, proper behavior? That sort of instruction?"

"Among other things. Apparently Miss Bright's academy had an excellent reputation. A number of respectable gentry families in the vicinity sent their young girls to her."

"Good God." Marcus was nearly overcome by a crazed desire to laugh out loud. The thought of Iphiginia — notorious, free-spirited, daring Iphiginia- making a living teaching Society's grim, straitlaced rules to young ladies was dazzling.

"Her cousin, Miss Farley, came to live with her a year after Miss Bright lost her parents. Miss Farley taught mathematics and natural history, I believe."

"You say the school's reputation was excellent?" "Yes, m'lord. As was the reputation of Miss Bright

herself. You may well believe that in a town the size of Deepford, any faults, transgressions, or lapses of propriety would have been duly noted and punished."

"A single lapse would have been enough to destroy her livelihood."

"More than enough. A teacher of young ladies must maintain the highest standards. She cannot afford even the appearance of improper conduct."

"Poor Iphiginia."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Never mind. What else did you learn?" "Let me see." Barclay shuffled some sheets of foolscap. "About three years ago, Miss Bright made another financial move which paid off rather handsomely."

"What sort of move?"

"It appears that she and her cousin formed a pool of investors. The pool was made up entirely of widows and spinsters, women who were in much the same position as themselves. They each contributed small amounts to a fund. The money was then loaned to a builder."

"A property speculation project?" "Yes, m'lord."

"Which property?"

"Morning Rose Square."

"Bloody hell." Marcus grinned appreciatively. "She must have made a packet."

"She did," Barclay said dryly. "She used some of her profits to provide her sister with a suitable portion."

"What about the sister? Where is she?"

"Still in Deepford. Last year she married one Richard Hampton, the only son of an established gentry family."

"I see. Presumably the Hamptons are blissfully unaware that Iphiginia is masquerading as a widow here in Town?

"Quite unaware. One can only imagine that the entire village would be horrified if the truth came out. Everyone back in Deepford, including the sister, believes that Miss Bright is still traipsing about Italy in the company of her cousin.»

"I wonder what the good people of Deepford thought of Miss Bright's decision to tour the Continent?"

"You may he certain that the journey was viewed with considerable disapproval."

"But it was not considered scandalous?"

"No, although there were any number of villagers who predicted that Miss Bright would come to a had end when she closed bet academy for young ladies and took off for the Continent."

"I'd wager there were." He got to his feet and went to stand at the window. "You have done an excellent job, Barclay."

"Thank you, sir, I do try."

"I know that I can rely upon your continued absolute discretion."

"Of course." Barclay sounded deeply grieved that Marcus even bothered to mention discretion. "Not a word will pass my lips."

"Thank you, Barclay."

Barclay hesitated. "There is one other small fact which may or may not he of interest to you, sir."

"What is that?"

"I mentioned that Miss Bright's sister, Corina, is married to Richard Hampton."

"What of it?"

"It seems that a couple of years ago there was talk of Mr. Hampton marrying the elder Miss Bright rather than Corina."

Marcus studied. "Indeed?"

"There appears to have been some confusion on the matter." Barclay paused. "Even the elder Miss Bright is said to have been, shall we say, surprised when Hampton made his interest in Corina known."

"Is that so?"

"The villagers concluded that the elder Miss Bright's heart was broken when Mr. Hampton made it plain that he preferred Miss Corina."

The news that Iphiginia had loved another man, might still be in love with him, went through Marcus like a knife.

Did be break your heart, Iphiginia? Was that why you cast off the shackles of propriety and chose to ignore the rules? Do you still love him? Was Richard Hampton the man you were thinking of last night when you held me in your arms and whispered that you loved me?

Marcus gazed out into the garden for a few minutes. A gentle rain was failing, muting the bright hues of the flowers and dampening the verdant green of the foliage. The day had turned unexpectedly bleak.

He turned back to face Barclay. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"No, m'lord, I believe that about sums up the results of my inquiries."

"Thank you for your hard work."

"Of course, sir." Barclay heaved himself to his feet. "it was a rather hectic journey. I look forward to going home and putting my feet up in front of my own hearth."

"There is one more thing." "Sir?"

"Tomorrow I would like you to make other inquiries for me."

"Concerning?"

"I would like you to find out who recently built an elaborate sepulchral monument to a Mrs. Elizabeth Eaton in Reeding Cemetery."

Barclay eyed him askance. "A sepulchral monument?"

"Yes, Barclay. A sort of grotto arrangement." Barclay looked resigned. "Very well, m'lord. I shall

see what I can discover. Will there be anything else?" "No, Barclay, you may go."

Marcus waited until he was alone in the library. Then he walked slowly back to his desk and picked up the message he had received from Hannah an hour ago.

M: Must see you. Urgent. Entrance to Dollanger Gardens. Two o'clock.

Yrs. H.

Marcus crumpled the small sheet of paper in one hand. He was afraid he could guess why Hannah was so anxious to risk seeing him again.

At two o'clock that afternoon, Marcus got into the nondescript hackney coach that halted on the street outside Dollanger Gardens.

Hannah, heavily veiled and dressed in an unremarkable brown carriage gown, waited inside. She had closed the curtains on the windows. The interior of the coach was drenched in shadows.

She confirmed his unpleasant hypothesis immediately. "I received another blackmail demand while you were out of town, Marcus. Another five thousand pounds." Hannah's normally soft voice was harsh with anxiety. "I was forced to pawn a lovely bracelet that Sands gave to me on my last birthday. I fear that I shall never be able to buy it back. I live in dread of the day he asks me why I never wear it."

"Where were you instructed to leave the money?" Marcus asked.

"The instructions were the same as last time. I left the money in a hackney coach in Pall Mall. Marcus, this cannot go on. I cannot continue to pawn my jewelry. Sooner or later Sands will notice."

"I suppose that it would be useless for me to try once more to convince you to tell Sands the truth."

"You know that I cannot do such a thing." Hannah raised her veil, revealing her desperate expression. "He will turn from me in disgust, I know he will."

"He is a reasonable man. Give him a chance, Hannah."