Mischief

by Amanda Quick

  “A lamb among wolves,” Matthias murmured. “But a lamb with some teeth, I think.”

  “Her friend Lucy was certainly no help,” Horatia said bitterly. “Lady Vanneck definitely bore some of the responsibility for the incident. But that was Lucy for you. I know Imogen counted her a dear friend, but the truth is, Lucy never cared a jot for anyone but herself.”

  “You knew Lucy?”

  “I met her on occasion when I visited my brother and his family. She was very beautiful and she could be charming. But she used her beauty and charm to manipulate others. She broke the hearts of several of the young farmers here in Upper Stickleford. As far as I’m concerned, she became friends with Imogen only because there were no other young ladies in the vicinity. She did not even bother to correspond with Imogen after she moved to London until a full year had passed. And then, out of the blue, she sent for Imogen.”

  “What happened in London?”

  “For a time all went well. Imogen got involved in the Zamarian Society. She has been passionate about Zamar since the age of seventeen. That was the year you and Rutledge returned from your first expedition. She joined the Zamarian Society shortly after it was formed, but she had not had an opportunity to meet any of the members until she went to London.”

  “I regret to say that the Zamarian Society is composed largely of amateurs and dilettantes.” Matthias set his jaw. “Unfortunately, Zamar has become fashionable.”

  “Perhaps. But for the first time, Imogen was able to mingle with others who shared her interests. She was very excited. You must remember that she was alone following the death of her parents. Lucy had been her only friend, and after Lucy went off to London and married Vanneck, Imogen was very lonely. I fear that the study of Zamar became everything to her. Meeting others of a like-minded nature was very exciting for her.”

  “Whom, precisely, did she meet?” Matthias asked warily. The fascination with Zamar had brought into the ranks of the Zamarian Society an assortment of dangerously bored young bloods, debauched rakes, and others seeking excitement.

  “Lucy introduced Imogen to a nice young man named Alastair Drake.” Horatia hesitated. “It was the only truly decent thing Lucy ever did for Imogen. Mr. Drake shared Imogen’s enthusiasm for ancient Zamar.”

  “Did he, indeed?”

  “The pair got along famously from all accounts. I heard from friends that Mr. Drake developed a tendre for Imogen. There was even talk of an offer of marriage. But then the disaster struck.”

  Matthias abandoned any pretense of continuing with the inventory. He propped one shoulder against the bookshelf and folded his arms. “Disaster in the form of Lord Vanneck, I presume?”

  Horatia’s eyes were bleak behind the lenses of her spectacles. “Yes. Imogen had not the faintest notion of how to deal with a hardened rake hell bent on seduction. There was no one to guide her or advise her.” She stopped talking abruptly, yanked a hankie from the pocket of her apron, and dabbed at her eyes. “It is difficult to even speak of the incident.”

  “I must ask you to finish the tale, madam,” Matthias said ruthlessly. “I cannot decide how to proceed until I know everything there is to know about this situation.”

  Horatia slanted him an uncertain glance and then appeared to come to a decision. She stuffed the hankie back into a pocket. “Very well, sir. It is no secret after all. Everyone in Town knew of the incident, and when Imogen returns, the gossip will no doubt be resurrected. The long and the short of it is that Imogen was discovered in a bedchamber with Vanneck.”

  For some reason, Matthias felt as though he had just been kicked in the stomach. He was puzzled by the violent reaction. It took him a moment to realize that he had not been expecting to hear quite such a dramatic ending to the tale.

  He had imagined something a good deal more innocent. After all, it took very little to ruin a young woman’s reputation in Society. An indiscreet kiss, venturing out alone to shop or ride without a maid, too many waltzes with the wrong man, any number of such harmless lapses could make a woman notorious. Appearances were everything among the ton.

  But being discovered in a bedchamber with a man, any man, let alone one of Vanneck’s stripe, was more than a minor indiscretion, Matthias thought. Immodest Imogen had apparently earned her title. She was fortunate that the epithet had not been worse.

  “Was it Vanneck’s bedchamber?” Matthias made himself ask. “Or did she invite him to her house?”

  “Of course not.” Horatia averted her gaze. “But in the end it might have been better if the incident had occurred at some such private location. Unfortunately, Imogen and Vanneck were discovered together in an upstairs bedchamber during the course of a ball given by Lord and Lady Sandown.”

  “I see.” Matthias had to exert an effort to quell the whip of anger that had uncurled in him. What the devil was wrong with him? He barely knew the lady. “Your niece certainly does not do things by halves, does she?”

  “It was not her fault,” Horatia said with touching loyalty. “Vanneck hired her to that bedchamber.”

  “Who discovered them?”

  Horatia heaved another sigh of regret. “Mr. Drake, the nice young man who was on the verge of making an offer. He was accompanied by a companion. Naturally, there was no more talk of marriage after the incident. One could hardly blame Mr. Drake for losing interest.”

  “Drake could at least have kept his mouth shut about what he had seen.”

  “I expect he did,” Horatia said “But as I said, he had a companion with him that night. The other man was obviously not such a gentleman.”

  Matthias released a deep breath that he had not realized he had been holding. “I take it the incident, as you term it, put an end to the friendship between Miss Waterstone and Lady Vanneck?”

  “Lucy took her own life the day after Vanneck was discovered with Imogen. She left a note saying that she could not endure the knowledge that her best friend had betrayed her with her husband.”

  Matthias considered that briefly. “How did she kill herself?”

  “She took a great quantity of laudanum.”

  “Then there is no question but that she committed suicide?”

  “None so far as the rest of the world is concerned. Imogen is the only one who believes that Vanneck murdered Lucy. I fear my niece’s view of the matter is clouded by her own dreadful experience at his hands. Perhaps she feels a measure of guilt. But what happened in that bedchamber was Vanneck’s fault. I have no doubt of that.”

  Matthias glanced at the empty doorway of the library. “And now, three years later, Miss Waterstone has hit upon this crazed notion of avenging her friend.”

  “I thought she had put it all behind her,” Horatia confided. “But through her membership in the Zamarian Society, she corresponds with a vast number of people. A few weeks ago one of them conveyed the information that Lord Vanneck was hanging out for an heiress. My brother had just died and left Imogen this house and its contents and your, er, promise to him. Imogen was suddenly inspired.”

  “Inspired is not quite the word I would have chosen.” Matthias straightened away from the bookcase. He paused as he caught sight of a recent volume of the Zamarian Review. He scowled when he noticed the date. “Damnation.”

  “Is something wrong, my lord?”

  “No.” He picked up the copy of the Review and flipped through the pages. “This just happens to be the issue in which the editors published two articles on the interpretation of Zamarian inscriptions. One written by me and one by I. A. Stone. The fellow haunts me.”

  “I see.” Horatia busied herself with a funeral urn.

  “For some reason, the editors gave Stone’s article considerable attention even though any dolt can see that he is completely wrongheaded in his conclusions. I shall speak to them about it.”

  “You’re going to speak to the editors about publishing I. A. Stone’s papers?”

  “Why not? I founded that damned journal. I have a responsibility to ensure tha
t only the most scholarly articles are printed in it.”

  “I take it I. A. Stone’s conclusions about Zamarian inscriptions did not agree with your own, my lord?” Horatia asked very dryly.

  “No, they did not. It was especially irritating because, as usual, Stone based his conclusions on the results of my own published researches.” Matthias took a grip on his outrage. He generally regarded the work of other Zamarian scholars with complete disinterest and disdain. He knew better than anyone else that since Rutledge’s disappearance, he had no equal in the field.

  There had been no real challenge to Matthias’s authority on the subject until I. A. Stone had exploded upon the scene eighteen months earlier in the pages of the Review.

  To Matthias’s increasing annoyance and total bemusement, I. A. Stone was proving to be the first person in years who was capable of kindling any kind of strong response in him. He did not understand it. He had never even met Stone. Thus far, Matthias knew his new rival only by his writings. Soon, he promised himself, he would track Stone down and have a word with the upstart.

  “My lord?” Horatia said cautiously. “About our little problem?”

  “Forgive me, madam, Stone is a sore point with me.”

  “I can see that, sir.”

  “Ever since I returned to England a few months ago I have been made increasingly aware of his encroaching articles in the Review. Members of the Zamarian Society actually take sides now when Stone and I disagree in print.”

  “I can certainly understand your feelings on the subject, sir, given your unquestioned position in the field,” Horatia said diplomatically.

  “Unquestioned position? I. A. Stone questions my position at every opportunity. But that is another issue. It is Imogen and her mad scheme that we are discussing.”

  Horatia searched his face. “Yes, it is.”

  “I suppose it is unlikely that the incident three years ago will make it impossible for her to reenter Society?”

  “Do not pin your hopes on the possibility that she will not receive the proper invitations,” Horatia advised. “I fear Society will find her vastly entertaining. The combination of my connection to Blanchford, her own respectable inheritance from Selwyn, and her tale of a map that will lead someone to a Zamarian treasure will all combine to captivate the jaded interest of the ton.”

  “She will not be considered marriageable, but she will definitely be entertaining,” Matthias said softly.

  “I fear that sums it up rather nicely.”

  “It is a recipe for disaster.”

  “Yes, my lord. You are my only hope. If you do not find a way to alter her course, Imogen will surely sail straight into the sea of catastrophe.” Horatia paused just long enough to add weight to her next words. “It seems to me that if you truly mean to repay your debt to my brother, you must save Imogen. That is what Selwyn would have wanted.”

  Matthias raised his brows. “You have a rather concise way of summing up matters yourself, Mrs. Elibank.”

  “I am desperate, sir.”

  “You must be, if you think to manipulate me toward your own ends with that promise that I gave your brother.”

  Horatia gasped, but she held her ground. “My lord, I beg you will prevent my niece from pursuing this folly.”

  Matthias held her eyes with his own. “You claim to be acquainted with my reputation, Mrs. Elibank. If that is so, then you must know that I am more inclined to destroy others than to save them.”

  “I am well aware of that, sir.” Horatia spread her hands. “But there is no one else. She will not listen to me. And you did make that promise to my brother. The whole world knows that Cold-blooded Colchester always keeps his promises.”

  Matthias turned away without responding. He walked out the door and crossed the hall to the staircase. He took the steps two at a time.

  When he reached the landing he stopped to listen. A loud crash followed by several muffled thumps told him that his quarry was working in the east wing. He went down the corridor with long, determined strides.

  Imogen Waterstone had already caused enough commotion in his life, he decided. It was time he took control of his own fate. He always fulfilled his promises, but, as he had warned Horatia, he did so on his own terms.

  A series of thuds guided him to the open door of a bedchamber on the left side of the passageway. Matthias halted in the opening and surveyed the interior.

  The chamber was a dark, shadowed room that had been decorated in the same funereal style as the rest of the house. Heavy black curtains had been tied back from the windows, but the light that entered had little impact on the overall gloom. The bed was shrouded in colors suitable to mourning. Black and maroon hangings cascaded from the ceiling.

  Far and away the most interesting sight in the chamber was Imogen’s nicely rounded backside. Matthias felt a sharp tug in the vicinity of his groin.

  The lush curve of Imogen’s derriere was displayed in a provocative manner due to her somewhat awkward position. She was bent over at the waist, attempting to haul a large iron-bound trunk out from under the black-draped bed. The skirts of her bombazine gown had risen several inches in back to reveal elegantly shaped calves clad in white stockings. Matthias had a sudden, nearly overwhelming desire to explore the territory above the tops of the stockings.

  The powerful wave of desire that rolled through him took him by surprise. He drew a long breath and forced himself to concentrate on the problem at hand.

  “Miss Waterstone?”

  “What in the world?” Imogen came upright with a quick, startled movement. She whirled around, her face flushed from her recent exertions. Her hand swept out and struck a small, ugly statue of a tomb deity standing on a nearby table. The little clay monstrosity crashed to the floor and shattered.

  “Oh, dear.” Imogen frowned at the broken statue.

  “Don’t waste any regrets on it,” Matthias advised after a single glance at the remains of the statue. “It’s not Zamarian.”

  “No, it isn’t, is it?” Imogen reached up to straighten her little white cap, which had listed to one side. “I did not hear you coming down the hall, my lord. You cannot possibly be finished with the library?”

  “No, madam, I have barely even begun. I have come up here to discuss something more important.”

  She brightened. “Our plans to trap Vanneck?”

  “Your plans, not mine, Miss Waterstone. Mrs. Elibank and I have discussed the matter in some detail, and we are both of the same opinion. Your scheme is ill-advised, rash, and possibly quite dangerous.”

  Imogen stared at him, dismay darkening her eyes. “Sir, you cannot stop me.”

  “I was almost certain you would say that.” He studied her for a moment. “What will you do if I refuse to assist you by playing the role that you have assigned to me?”

  She eyed him uncertainly. “You refuse to keep your promise to my uncle?”

  “Miss Waterstone, the promise I made to Selwyn was rather vague in nature. It is open to interpretation, and since I made the promise, I shall interpret it.”

  “Hmm.” She put her hands on her hips and began to tap her toe. “You intend to default on your promise, do you not?”

  “No. I always keep my promises, Miss Waterstone, and this one will be no exception.” Matthias realized he was growing angry. “I have concluded that the best way I can repay my debt to your uncle, however, is to keep you out of dangerous mischief.”

  “I warn you, sir, you may refuse to aid me, but you cannot stop me from carrying out my plan. I will admit that your support would be invaluable, but I am certain that I can attract Vanneck’s attention without you.”

  “Is that so?” Matthias took a step into the chamber. “And just how will you do that, Miss Waterstone? Will you meet him in a private bedchamber again as you did three years ago? I must admit, such an offer will no doubt capture his interest.”

  Imogen looked dumbfounded for an instant. Then outrage lit her eyes. “How dare you, sir?”
>
  Chagrin lanced through Matthias. He suppressed it. The ends justified the means in this case, he assured himself. He clamped his teeth together. “I apologize for bringing up the incident, Miss Waterstone.”

  “As well you should.”

  “But,” he continued relentlessly, “I fail to see how either of us can ignore the past. Facts are facts. If Vanneck seduced you once, he will surely attempt to do so again. And unless you intend to use your very charming person to lure him into your plot—”

  “Bloody hell. Vanneck did not seduce me three years ago, sir. He compromised me. There is a vast difference.”

  “There is?”

  “One is reality, the other is merely a matter of appearances.” Imogen sniffed disdainfully. “I would have thought that a man of your intelligence would have been able to detect the essential distinction between the two.”

  Matthias’s temper flared without warning. “Very well, split hairs, if you will. It changes nothing. The problem remains. You are not going to find it easy to handle a man of Vanneck’s nature.”

  “I assure you, I can and will handle him. But I am beginning to think that you are correct in one regard, sir. Perhaps I do not require your services. When I initially formed my plan, I thought you would be extremely useful, but now I begin to wonder if you might prove more of a hindrance than a help.”

  For some reason that Matthias could not fathom, Imogen’s scathing retort served only to further fan the flames of his anger. “Indeed?”

  “Obviously you are not the man I had believed you to be, my lord.”

  “Hell and damnation. Just what sort of man did you believe me to be?”

  “I had assumed, incorrectly it seems, that you were a man of action, the sort of man who does not flinch from danger. A man capable of going forth into adventure without a second’s hesitation.”