Mistress Read Online Free Page A

and purity with her choice of virginal white attire.
    Iphiginia Bright somehow managed to
give
the impression of being the real thing, a lady of pristine, unstained virtue. It was really quite astonishing.
    The effect was not achieved solely by her angelic white gown, gloves, and shoes. It seemed to emanate from the very depths of the woman herself.
    There was something about her clear, intelligent, forthright gaze, arresting nose, and soft, gentle mouth that spoke of virtue. Her hair was the color of dark honey. She was striking in some ways, subtle in others. Although she was no great beauty, she was the most interesting female Marcus had ever encountered.
    There was also an alluring air of very feminine sensuality about her, yet she had not chosen to emphasize it with her clothing. The cut of her gown was surprisingly demure. Another clever touch, Marcus conceded privately. A man’s imagination was a powerful tool and she knew how to employ it.
    The curves of Iphiginia’s small, high, delicately rounded breasts did not overflow the bodice of her dress. They were discreetly covered by white silk ruffles. Such breasts were not meant to be crudely fondled, Marcus thought. They had been fashioned for a connoisseur of fine things, a lover endowed with an artist’s slender, sensitive fingers.
    He absently flexed his own sturdy, callused fingers. The fact that he possessed the hands of a farmer did not mean that he did not enjoy touching fine, soft things.
    Iphiginia was small and slender. The skirts of her high-waisted gown drifted airily down over what was clearly a very narrow waist. The wispy silk barely hinted at the enticing shape of womanly hips and rounded thighs.
    No wonder she had captured the fancy of the
ton
, Marcus thought. She certainly had his full attention.
    He was intrigued by the mysterious Mrs. Bright, more so than he had been with any other woman for longer than he cared to recall.
    He was also half-aroused, he realized abruptly.
    He could feel the dull ache of awakening desire in his loins. Perhaps it was not so surprising. It had been four months since he had last been intimate with a woman and Iphiginia had been on his mind constantly for the past two days. He had speculated on nothing else except his unknown paramour during the entire journey back to London.
    It occurred to Marcus that if he had deliberately set out to find an interesting new mistress, he could not have done better than Iphiginia Bright.
    “I beg your pardon, my lord,” Iphiginia said, obviously embarrassed by her lengthy commentary on his journal article. “I expect I am boring you. It is not as though you are not perfectly familiar with your own theories on the use of timber pilings in foundations.”
    “Perhaps we should get back to the main topic,” Marcus said smoothly. “But first you must give me your address so that I can convey it to my coachman.”
    Iphiginia cleared her throat. “My address?”
    “It would be useful, considering the fact that I am attempting to escort you home at the moment.”
    “You are?”
    “Given the role you have led everyone to believe that I play in your life,” Marcus said, “it is only natural that I take you home after the ball.”
    “But—”
    “It is expected,” Marcus emphasized. “People will wonder if I do not claim the privilege.”
    “You’re quite certain that is the normal thing to do?”
    “Quite certain.”
    “Oh.” Iphiginia caught her soft lower lip between her very white teeth, apparently contemplating the matter.She came to a decision. “Very well. I have a town house in Morning Rose Square. Number Five.”
    Marcus was briefly interested in that bit of news. “Morning Rose Square was only recently completed, was it not? The architect did a superb job of combining classical elements with a design that is comfortable and suited to the English climate. The houses were well constructed and sold quickly, as I recall.”
    Iphiginia looked surprised. “You seem to