Mistress by Amanda Quick

wants a tide in the family so badly she can taste it.” Marcus pointed a fork at Bennet and narrowed his eyes. “You’re a prime catch on the Marriage Mart, Bennet. You’re rich and there’s every expectation that you’ll inherit the tide. You must be on your guard.”
    Bennet flung down his napkin. “That’s outrageous. Miss Dorchester is not the type to concern herself with money and titles.”
    “If you really believe that, then you are infinitely more naive than I thought.”
    “I am
not
naive. But neither am I as cold-natured and rigid and set in my ways as you are, Marcus. And I certainly don’t hang about with outrageous females such as your Mrs. Bright.”
    “You will speak of Mrs. Bright with respect or you will not mention her name at all, is that understood?”
    “She’s your mistress, for God’s sake.”
    “She is my very good friend.”
    “Everyone knows what
that
means. You have some nerve criticizing Miss Dorchester. Your Mrs. Bright could take a few lessons in decorum from her, if you ask me.”
    Marcus slammed his coffee cup down onto the saucer. “No one asked you.”
    The door of the breakfast room opened. Lovelace loomed. He had a small silver tray in one gloved hand.
    “A message for you, m’lord. It just arrived.”
    Marcus frowned as he took the note from the tray. He read it quickly and silently.
    M:
    I must see you at once. Very urgent. The park.
    Ten o’clock. The fountain.
    Yrs.
    H
    Marcus glanced at Lovelace. “Have Zeus saddled and brought around at nine-thirty. I believe that I shall ride in the park this morning.”
    “Yes, my lord.” Lovelace backed out of the breakfast room.
    “Who sent you the note?” Bennet asked.
    “A friend.”
    “Mrs. Bright, I expect.”
    “No, as a matter of fact, it’s not from Mrs. Bright.”
    Bennet’s mouth tightened. “I’ve never seen you quite so touchy about one of your paramours.”
    “She is my
friend”
Marcus tossed down his napkin and rose to his feet. “Do not forget that, Bennet.”
    At five minutes before ten, Marcus rode Zeus, his heavily muscled black stallion, into the park. He took the graveled path that led toward the center of the vast wooded swath of green. It was the least traveled of the many paths.
    Hannah, Lady Sands, was waiting for him in a small closed curricle. She was dressed in a dark maroon carriage gown. The high, fluted collar accentuated the graceful line of her throat. Her lovely face was concealed beneath the veil of her stylish maroon hat.
    “Marcus. Thank God you have come.” She lifted her veil and gazed at him with stark, anxious eyes. “I havebeen beside myself for days. This morning, when I learned that you were back in Town, I sent my note at once. I feared you would not be free to see me on such short notice.”
    “You know that I am always available to you, Hannah.” Marcus did not like the tense set of her delicate features or the shadows in her gray eyes.
    Hannah was twenty-nine, married to the wealthy, likable Lord Sands and recently blessed with an infant son.
    She had been widowed seven years ago. Her new marriage, which had taken place three years previously, had appeared to be a happy one. Marcus had been glad for her. He had thought her days of fear were behind her, but this morning he recognized the old haunted expression in her eyes.
    “What is it, Hannah?”
    “I am being blackmailed,” she whispered. Her face crumpled in despair. “Oh, Marcus, someone knows
everything.”
    Marcus did not move. “That’s impossible.”
    “No, it’s true.” Tears formed in her eyes. “Oh, God, he
knows
, do you comprehend me? He knows how Spalding died. He knows that I killed him.”
    “Hannah, get hold of yourself. Are you telling me that someone has demanded money from you?”
    “Yes. Five thousand pounds. I have already paid it. I was forced to pawn some earrings.”
    “Bloody hell.”
    “I fear there will be more demands.”
    “Yes.” Marcus tapped his riding crop against