Marcus smiled slightly but said nothing. Unsatisfied with that reaction, Trescott recklessly tried another sort of prod. "You know very well that you are considered to be the most mysterious and quite possibly the most dangerous man in all of London."

"As is the case with beauty, Trescott, mystery and danger are in the eyes of the beholder."

"The rumors about your past guarantee that you qualify as a full-fledged legend, Masters. Naturally any woman who has the nerve to throw you over is bound to excite comment and speculation."

"Naturally." Trescott narrowed his eyes. "I will allow that the lady is unusual, even for you, sir. Where did you ever discover such a charming widow?" "You have seen her?" "Of course." Trescott chuckled. "Mrs. Bright is seen everywhere. No soiree or ball is a success without her. Your mistress is by far the most fascinating creature Society has viewed in years."

"Do you find her fascinating, Trescott?"

"Certainly. Everyone does. They call her Lady Starlight, you know." "Do they?"

Trescott shrugged., "Not that she's a great beauty, of course. But then, you world know that better than anyone. Still, there's something about her that draws the eye, is there not? Expect her nickname was derived from her choice of attire."

"Ah, yes. Her gowns."

Trescott grinned malevolently. "Imagine, the recent paramour of the most notorious lord of the ton going about in Purest white as though she were a bloody virgin. utterly outrageous.

Marcus stopped rotating his brandy glass in his hands. He looked at Trescott. "She still favors white? "Never wears anything else," Trescott assured him. "A genuine Original. By the bye, that ridiculous little white and gilt carriage of hers is the envy Of every woman in town. I'll wager it cost you a packet. Mind if I ask how much of the ready you put out for it?"

I do not seem to recall at the moment." Marcus glanced into the fire.