But here was Masters in the flesh and there was no denying that he was not only alive, he appeared quite fit. He radiated the dangerous vitality of a large beast of prey.

Obviously the blackmailer had lied. He had cleverly taken advantage of Masters's disappearance from London in order to terrorize Zoe.

Tom between euphoria and despair, Iphiginia watched Masters's relentless approach and realized that all bet carefully laid plans had suddenly been plunged into utter chaos.

An entirely new sort of disaster threatened, one that would affect her and those near and dear to her. Masters would not he pleased to learn that he had a mistress whom he had never even met. A mistress, moreover, who had allowed the ton to believe that she was shopping for a replacement for him.

He would surely make quick work of the trappings of her masquerade, she thought. He would shred them to ribbons, leaving her exposed to Society as the fraud she was.

Iphiginia's heart raced as she listened to the low voiced conversation that broke out among the group of gentlemen standing nearby.

"Masters always did have incredible nerve." Lord Lartmore, specter-faced and cadaverously thin, jerked his champagne glass toward his mouth and emptied it in a single swallow. "Never thought he'd show up in any ballroom where Lady Starlight was holding court, though. Too bloody humiliating."

"By jove, this should prove interesting." Darrow, a middle-aged man whose paunch was not well concealed by the poor cut of his coat, cast a speculative eye at Iphiginia.

Herbert Hoyt leaned closer to Iphiginia in a touchingly protective manner. His normally cheerful blue eyes were troubled. "I say, this could prove a trifle awkward. The generals did not invent the extremely useful tactic known as strategic retreat without good reason, m'dear.