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had set out on their last journey. News of their deaths at sea had come as a devastating blow to their beloved daughters.
    Faced with the responsibility of providing for herself and Corina, Iphiginia had taken a bold step. She had scraped together every available penny she could get from the sale of her mothers paintings and a pattern book that her father had created.
    She had used the small sum to open her academy for young ladies. It had been an immediate success.
    Richard had assisted Iphiginia by persuading his father to rent her a suitable house for her academy. He had made certain that the rent was reasonable. He had gone out of his way to perform other small acts of kindness as well. He had even convinced his mother to recommend Iphiginia’s academy to her friends.
    She would always be grateful to Richard, Iphiginia thought. And she would always feel a certain fondness for him. He was a handsome, amiable man with a likable manner.
    But she knew now that she would not have been the best choice for a wife for him. He, apparently, had comprehended that better than she had at the time.
    The truth was, she would have been quite miserable if she had been forced to spend the remainder of her life in Deepford. She had not realized just how much she had been obliged to repress her naturally exuberant, independent, adventurous, intellectual nature until she had left the village last year.
    She had felt as though she had shed a cocoon and become a creature with wings.
    Iphiginia had discovered this past year that she hadinherited a full measure of her parents’ unconventional, artistic sensibilities. She would have had a very hard time behaving in a manner suited to the wife of a staid country squire.
    Her sister, on the other hand, was entirely comfortable with the strictures of life back in Deepford. Corina even seemed to like her new in-laws.
    “Iphiginia?”
    Iphiginia surfaced from her brief reverie. “Yes?”
    “I am very concerned about this new development.”
    “Whatever do you mean?”
    “This situation is dangerous.”
    “Nonsense. We shall find the blackmailer and all will be well.”
    “I am not talking about the blackmail situation.” Amelia gave her a searching glance. “I am talking about your personal situation. This business of masquerading as a notorious widow entails far too much risk. Look at what happened in here tonight.”
    Iphiginia’s cheeks burned. “Really, Amelia. It was just a kiss.”
    Amelia watched her with worried eyes. “For your own sake, I pray you will take great care not to indulge in any more such reckless embraces. Masters is not some harmless country squire whom you can control with a word or a frown. He is a powerful man, accustomed to getting what he wants.”
    “He is a gentleman,” Iphiginia protested.
    “Men of his stamp seize what they desire and do not care whom they hurt in the process.”
    Iphiginia could think of nothing to say in response. She was only too well aware that Amelia spoke from painful experience.
    In the perilous days ahead, she must bear in mind that she was not really Mrs. Bright, the exciting, exotic widow, mysterious paramour of the most notorious earl in the
ton
.
    She was Miss Bright, spinster, scholar, student of classical design.
    And she had a blackmailer to catch.
    She was fascinating, Marcus thought as he walked up the front steps of his town house. Intelligent, passionate, and so delightfully different from the usual run of females. She would make him a most interesting mistress for the remainder of the Season. Perhaps longer, if he was fortunate.
    Marcus experienced a surge of what could only have been hope. It would be an enormous relief to settle into a comfortable, stable, long-term affair with an intelligent woman.
    One who accepted his rules and did not pester him for marriage or subject him to childish tantrums and irritating emotional scenes.
    One who understood the demands of his assorted intellectual interests.
    One who did not