There was about as much chance of him refraining from making love to Iphiginia as there was of budding a ship that could carry him to the stars, Marcus decided.

When faced with a seemingly imponderable problem, he had learned that it was sometimes best to approach it obliquely rather than head-on.

He had some time, he assured himself. How much time, he did not know. But Iphiginia had not been exposed thus far. There was no reason to suppose that anyone else would stumble onto the truth in the near future. The present situation could not he allowed to go on indefinitely, but as far as he could ascertain, no immediate threat loomed,

She still wanted him, Marcus thought. He would hold on to that knowledge, study it, examine it, analyse it. Eventually he would find a way to use her weakness for him to wear down her defenses.

The door of the library opened.

Amelia walked into the room. "Iphiginia? Mr. Manwaring reminded me that we must-" She broke off, flushing, when she saw Iphiginia in Marcus's arms. "I beg your pardon."

"It's quite all right," Marcus said. He looked down at Iphiginia. "We will finish this conversation some other time. As it happens, we were just about to leave, weren't we, Iphiginia?"

"Yes, 'as a matter of fact, we were." She stepped quickly away from him and gave Amelia a shaky smile. "We're off to the Wycherley Agency to see what we can learn from Mrs. Wycherley."

"Do not bother to give my regards to Constance Wycherley," Amelia muttered. "I never did like that woman.

It bad been a near thing. Much too close for comfort. Twenty minutes later, after a silent, brooding carriage ride to a small lane just off Oxford Street, Iphiginia was still feeling the effects of the quarrel.

She was in a desperate fix because of Masters's Rules and it was her own fault, she thought as she was handed down from the black phaeton.

She should have known that-Marcus would likely feel compelled to marry her were he ever to discover that she was not a widow. But she had deliberately allowed herself to believe that she could deceive him.

She had convinced herself that she could fool Marcus, just as she had fooled Society. She ought to have known better.

Now she had to find a way to, convince Marcus he was not obligated by his own rigid code to wed her. It would not he easy, Iphiginia knew. He was too much like her in too many ways. The man was too bloody stubborn and determined for his own good.

"This is Number Eleven." Marcus frowned at the darkened windows of the Wycherley Agency. "The agency appears to he closed for the day."

"How odd." Iphiginia studied the drawn curtains that blanked both windows and the door. "It is not yet four in the afternoon."

"Perhaps Mrs. Wycherley was forced to close the premises early for some personal reason."

"One would think that she would have staff to keep the office open."

"True." Marcus walked to the door and twisted the knob experimentally. "Locked."

Iphiginia looked up. The two stories above the agency premises were also dark. "I wonder if Mrs. Wycherly lives above her place of business.

"Very likely. Marcus stepped back to survey the upper stories. "But if she is at borne, she is definitely not receiving visitors."

"She may be ill."

"Manwaring told you that he spoke with her yesterday. Did he mention that she appeared to he ailing>"

"No. But that doesn't mean she did not fall ill during the night," Iphiginia said. "Perhaps she left for a visit to the country."

"In which case," Marcus said with a speculative expression, "the shop and the rooms above are very likely empty."

Iphiginia gave him a sharp glance. "Are you about to suggest what I think you are about to suggest?"

"You know me so well, Iphiginia." Marcus took her hand. He glanced both ways up and down the street be certain that no one was paying any attention to them. "Come. There is no harm in our taking a quick look round back."

Iphiginia did not protest as he led her to the end of the short street and around the corner into the alley. "But what do you hope to find?"

"Who knows? One of the first rules of scientific inquiry is to ask a great many questions."

"What questions are you asking right now?"

"Why a successful, long-established business would close so early in the day."

Iphiginia got a distinctly uneasy sensation. "Especially the day after my man of affairs interviewed the owner and asked her about one of her former clients?"

"Precisely."

Marcus led the way down the alley behind the row of shop fronts. He stopped in front of the back door of Number Eleven and knocked softly.

There was no response. He reached for the doorknob and tried it carefully. "This door is locked also."

Iphiginia looked at the small-paned windows that flanked the door and saw that the one on the right was ajar. "Look, Marcus."

He followed her gaze. "It appears as though someone left in a great hurry and forgot to secure all the windows."

"Yes, it does." Marcus eased open the unlocked window, moved the curtain aside, and peered into the interior of the shop.

Iphiginia crowded close behind him. "Can you see anything?"

"Not much. The room is rather dark. The curtains are drawn shut. Hold on. a minute." He opened the window all the way and then stepped back to study the situation' "Damn. I do not think that I will he able to fit through that opening."

Iphiginia studied the situation. "I can fit through it." Marcus looked at her. "If you think that I am going to allow you to go through that window-" "Marcus, be reasonable. I shall simply slip through the opening and immediately unlock the door for you. You will be inside with me in no time."

"Hmm." He hesitated, clearly torn. "Very well. But don't waste a moment once you're inside. Go right to the door."

"I will." Iphiginia went to stand in front of the open window. It was too far off the ground for her to be able to simply step through it. "You'll have to help me."

"I can see that." Marcus fitted his hands to her waist and lifted her effortlessly off the ground.

Iphiginia shivered, remembering the feel of his hands on her bare skin two nights ago. He was so strong and yet she felt so safe when she was in his embrace.

"Hurry, Iphiginia."

"Yes, of course." She shook off the hot memories and concentrated on the matter at hand.

Scrambling through the window proved unexpectedly awkward. Iphiginia was hampered by the long, ruffled skirts of her white muslin walking dress and matching spencer.

"Good God," Marcus muttered somewhere behind her. "How many petticoats do you have on under your gown? I am about to drown in them."

"It was rather chilly today." Iphiginia was intensely aware of his hand on the calf of her leg.

A few seconds later she landed on her feet inside the shadowed room. She reached out to steady herself. Her fingers brushed against a sheaf of papers that were lying on a nearby table. Several sheets of foolscap drifted to the floor at her feet.

"Oh, dear," she murmured. "What's wrong?" Marcus demanded instantly. "Nothing serious. I knocked some papers to the floor." Iphiginia stooped to retrieve them. She stared in amazement as her eyes began to adjust to the gloom. "Good grief. Marcus, there are papers and ledgers and such scattered about everywhere. The place looks as though a whirlwind went through it."

"Open the door. Quickly." Iphiginia straightened and went to the back door. She unlocked it. Marcus strode into the shop and shut the door behind himself. He stood still for a moment, gazing into the shadows.

"Bloody hell," he said softly. "The place has been ransacked."

Iphiginia stared at the chaos around them. "What do you think happened here?"

"I don't know." Marcus moved toward the narrow staircase that led to the private rooms above the shop. "Wait here. I want to take a quick look around upstairs."