from an evening's round of social affairs with such, ah, enthusiasm."
"I am well aware of that, Lovelace. Tonight's affairs were of a somewhat unusual nature." Marcus crossed to the library. His boots rang on the gold-veined black marble floor. "You may go to bed. I shall see to the lamps."
"Thank you, sir." Lovelace paused delicately. "There is one item of news to relate."
"And that is?"
"Your brother arrived here earlier this evening. He left an hour ago. I believe he went out to his club."
"Bennet is here in London?" Marcus frowned. "He is supposed to be visiting friends in Scotland."
"Yes, m'lord. I know."
"Well, I shall talk to him in the morning." Marcus went into the library. "Good night, Lovelace."
"Good night, sir." Lovelace quietly closed the door. Marcus crossed the room to the small table in the corner. The rich French brandy inside the crystal decanter glowed a mellow shade of amber.
Marcus poured himself a glass of the brandy and settled into the large, comfortable wingback chair. He absently inhaled the heady fumes that emanated from his glass as he contemplated the fact that he was about to become involved in another liaison.
The astounding thing was that he was filled with a deep sense of anticipation this time.
Most unusual. He had always disliked the customary unpleasantness that accompanied the inevitable ending of an affair. Lately, however, he had actually found himself resenting the investment of time and effort that it took to form a new connection.
It was difficult to work up enthusiasm for the project when one knew precisely how it was all going to end. He had even gotten very good at predicting exactly when it would all terminate.
He had been allowing the periods between affairs to stretch out longer and longer, until the pressure of his physical needs grew too strong to ignore.
The difficulty was that he was burdened with a full complement of the usual masculine desires. When he was in a particularly melancholy frame of mind, he sometimes wondered what it would be like to he freed of his passions. He would then he able to abandon the murky world of romantic entanglements in favor of devoting himself to the satisfactions of his intellectual endeavors.
The thought made him grin briefly. If there was one thing he had discovered tonight, it was that there was no immediate likelihood that his body would allow him to ignore his lust. The talons of unsatisfied desire still gripped his loins.
But the most interesting aspect of the situation was that he was not dreading the work of seduction that lay ahead. In truth, for the first time in a long, long while, he was looking forward to it.
All his instincts told him that with Iphiginia things were going to he new and different.
For starters, he could not see the inevitable conclusion to the affair.
For once he would be going into a liaison without knowing when and how it would end. That alone was enough to whet his appetite.
Marcus sipped the brandy and contemplated the pleasures of a passionate attachment that held the promise of surprise and unpredictability.
He wondered how long she would stick to her outrageous tale of a plan to catch a blackmailer.
He gave the lady high marks for creativity. She had hit upon a brilliant way to thrust herself into Society at the highest levels.
She had no doubt expected him to remain away from London for the full month, which would have given her time to entice a wealthy paramour. Or perhaps she had been out to capture his attention all along.
That last was an intriguing notion. And rather flattering.
Marcus turned the brandy glass lazily in his hands. He would allow her to continue her pretense of hunting a blackmailer as long as she pleased. It did no harm and it would he amusing to see how long she could keep up the charade.
But in the meantime he had other, more interesting games to play with Iphiginia Bright.
An unpleasant sensation of dampness made Marcus glance down at the front of his
"I am well aware of that, Lovelace. Tonight's affairs were of a somewhat unusual nature." Marcus crossed to the library. His boots rang on the gold-veined black marble floor. "You may go to bed. I shall see to the lamps."
"Thank you, sir." Lovelace paused delicately. "There is one item of news to relate."
"And that is?"
"Your brother arrived here earlier this evening. He left an hour ago. I believe he went out to his club."
"Bennet is here in London?" Marcus frowned. "He is supposed to be visiting friends in Scotland."
"Yes, m'lord. I know."
"Well, I shall talk to him in the morning." Marcus went into the library. "Good night, Lovelace."
"Good night, sir." Lovelace quietly closed the door. Marcus crossed the room to the small table in the corner. The rich French brandy inside the crystal decanter glowed a mellow shade of amber.
Marcus poured himself a glass of the brandy and settled into the large, comfortable wingback chair. He absently inhaled the heady fumes that emanated from his glass as he contemplated the fact that he was about to become involved in another liaison.
The astounding thing was that he was filled with a deep sense of anticipation this time.
Most unusual. He had always disliked the customary unpleasantness that accompanied the inevitable ending of an affair. Lately, however, he had actually found himself resenting the investment of time and effort that it took to form a new connection.
It was difficult to work up enthusiasm for the project when one knew precisely how it was all going to end. He had even gotten very good at predicting exactly when it would all terminate.
He had been allowing the periods between affairs to stretch out longer and longer, until the pressure of his physical needs grew too strong to ignore.
The difficulty was that he was burdened with a full complement of the usual masculine desires. When he was in a particularly melancholy frame of mind, he sometimes wondered what it would be like to he freed of his passions. He would then he able to abandon the murky world of romantic entanglements in favor of devoting himself to the satisfactions of his intellectual endeavors.
The thought made him grin briefly. If there was one thing he had discovered tonight, it was that there was no immediate likelihood that his body would allow him to ignore his lust. The talons of unsatisfied desire still gripped his loins.
But the most interesting aspect of the situation was that he was not dreading the work of seduction that lay ahead. In truth, for the first time in a long, long while, he was looking forward to it.
All his instincts told him that with Iphiginia things were going to he new and different.
For starters, he could not see the inevitable conclusion to the affair.
For once he would be going into a liaison without knowing when and how it would end. That alone was enough to whet his appetite.
Marcus sipped the brandy and contemplated the pleasures of a passionate attachment that held the promise of surprise and unpredictability.
He wondered how long she would stick to her outrageous tale of a plan to catch a blackmailer.
He gave the lady high marks for creativity. She had hit upon a brilliant way to thrust herself into Society at the highest levels.
She had no doubt expected him to remain away from London for the full month, which would have given her time to entice a wealthy paramour. Or perhaps she had been out to capture his attention all along.
That last was an intriguing notion. And rather flattering.
Marcus turned the brandy glass lazily in his hands. He would allow her to continue her pretense of hunting a blackmailer as long as she pleased. It did no harm and it would he amusing to see how long she could keep up the charade.
But in the meantime he had other, more interesting games to play with Iphiginia Bright.
An unpleasant sensation of dampness made Marcus glance down at the front of his
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