Mistress by Amanda Quick Page A

his boot. “I think we can safely assume that there will be more demands. There always are when one is dealing with a blackmailer.”
    “Dear heaven, I am so afraid, Marcus.”
    “Hannah, listen carefully. When did you get the first demand?”
    “Six days ago. I would have sent a message to you at once, but I did not know where you had gone. I onlyknew that you were out of Town for an extended period of time.”
    “I was at Cloud Hall.”
    “I have been absolutely desperate. I haven’t slept in days. Sands is becoming very concerned. He keeps asking me what is wrong. He wants me to summon a doctor. What am I going to do?”
    “Nothing for the moment,” Marcus said gently. “I shall deal with this.”
    “But what can you do? Marcus, did you hear me? This person knows that I … that I am a murderess.”
    “Hush, Hannah. Calm yourself. You did not murder Lynton Spalding. What you did was done in self-defense. Do not ever forget that.”
    “No one will believe it. What will Sands say if he ever learns the truth?”
    “I suspect that your husband would be far more understanding about this than you believe,” Marcus said. It was not the first time he had tried to talk Hannah into telling Sands the truth about her first husband’s death. But Hannah was adamant
in
her refusal
to
do so.
    “I dare not tell him, Marcus. He would never be able to accept the knowledge that he is married to a woman who had actually killed her first husband. How would you deal with such a revelation if you were in his shoes?”
    Marcus shrugged. “Knowing what I do about Spalding and his treatment of you, I would congratulate you on being such an excellent shot.”
    Hannah gave him a stricken look. “Please, I beg you, do not tease me.”
    “I’m not teasing you. It’s the truth. I think you underestimate your new husband.”
    “I know him better than you do. He thinks I am a paragon. I simply cannot tell him the truth.”
    “Apparently the blackmailer knows that, too,” Marcus observed. “Interesting.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “I believe that I shall have a long talk with someonewho appears to know more about this situation than I had realized.”
    “What on earth are you saying?” Hannah wailed. “Marcus, you must not tell anyone about any of this.”
    “Do not concern yourself. I shall not give away your secret. But I do intend to seek a few answers to some questions I neglected to ask last night.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “It appears I was somewhat hasty. I did something I rarely do: I leaped to a conclusion.” Marcus steadied the prancing Zeus. “I thought I was being treated to a very inventive banbury tale, you see.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Never mind. It’s a long story and I do not have time to tell it at the moment. Rest assured that I shall look into this matter at once, Hannah. And do not pay another penny in blackmail without consulting me first, do you understand?”
    “Yes.” Hannah’s elegantly gloved fingers tightened on the reins. “I am so relieved to be able to talk to you about this. I was going mad.”
    “It will be all right, I promise you.”
    Hannah smiled mistily. “That is what you said the night you helped me dispose of Spalding’s body.”
    “And I was right, was I not?”
    She gave him an odd look. “You kept my secret but at a great cost to yourself. You know very well that there are still those who say that you murdered Spalding in cold blood in order to gain control of the investment pool.”
    Marcus smiled. “No one could ever prove that he was not killed by a footpad, and that was all that mattered. Gossip does not bother me, Hannah. I am accustomed to it.”
    Her mouth curved wryly. “Sometimes I think that nothing bothers you.” She hesitated. “I read the morning papers. I could not help but see the gossip about a certain exhibition at the Fenwicks’ ball last night.”
    “Did you?”
    Hannah gave him a quizzical look. “Come now,