Mischief

by Amanda Quick

Imogen smiled at Patricia. “It’s quite all right. No harm was done. I merely wondered if you had mentioned the journal to anyone since it, uh, came into our possession.”

  Matthias raised his brows at her tactful description of what some might term outright theft.

  “Oh, no,” Patricia assured her. “I told no one about it.”

  Imogen watched her intently. “No one suggested that you take the journal to Lady Lyndhurst’s salon this afternoon?”

  Patricia shook her head with great certainty. “Of course not. How could anyone else have known that Matthias had taken it from Lord Vanneck’s house?”

  “Indeed,” Imogen said very casually. “Who could have known other than the three of us?”

  Patricia visibly relaxed. “I concluded that I had to take the journal to Lady Lyndhurst after I got a message from one of my friends in the salon.”

  That bit of news was too much for Matthias’s self-control. He pounced before Imogen could stop him. “Someone sent you a message about the journal? Who was it?”

  Patricia’s eyes widened. “I’m not certain. The message I received this morning was not signed. But it carried the secret seal that the members of the salon use whenever they communicate with each other.”

  “Secret seal?” Matthias winced. “What nonsense. Why the devil didn’t you show me that damned message? When did it arrive? Did you recognize the handwriting?”

  Patricia retreated into the corner of the carriage seat. She looked at Imogen with a beseeching expression.

  Imogen glared at Matthias. “I pray you will be silent, my lord. You are complicating matters.”

  “Damnation.” Matthias wanted to shake the answers out of Patricia. As that approach was clearly not an option, he turned the brunt of his rapidly thinning patience on Imogen. “Make no mistake, madam, I intend to discover just what is going on here.”

  “I know you do and you shall,” Imogen said in her apple-crisp tones. “But we will all get through this far more quickly if you allow me to discuss the matter with your sister in a calm, reasonable fashion.”

  Matthias drummed his fingers on the side of the carriage frame. She was right and he knew it. “Very well. Get on with it, then.”

  Imogen turned back to Patricia. “Pay no attention to him. Men are inclined to be impatient. Now then, this message that you said you received. Did it specifically mention the journal?”

  “No, of course not.” Patricia was obviously perplexed. “How could anyone have known that we had it?”

  “How indeed,” Matthias said dryly. “Perhaps you jotted a few notes to your friends in the salon? Properly sealed with the secret seal, of course.”

  Patricia’s eyes glistened with tears. “I just told you that I did not tell a soul.”

  Imogen gave Matthias another repressive glare. “My lord, if you possess half the intelligence I have always credited you with, you will cease interrupting.”

  Matthias set his teeth but he kept silent.

  Imogen smiled encouragingly at Patricia. “Now then, tell us about the note you received.”

  Patricia eyed Matthias warily, no doubt fearful that he would renew his aggressive efforts to wring the information out of her. When he said nothing, she looked at Imogen. “The message claimed that we must all beware of the Rutledge Curse, lest it fall on the household of one of the members of the Zamarian salon. I realized at once that Matthias had been the latest victim.”

  “Naturally. A perfectly logical conclusion,” Imogen said.

  Matthias scowled at her, but he managed to hold his tongue.

  “Did the note say anything else?” Imogen asked quickly.

  “Only that anyone who possessed any object that might have once belonged to Vanneck was in the greatest danger.” Patricia hesitated. “The curse will have tainted everything that he owned, you see.”

  “Hardly subtle,” Matthias said scornfully. “Hell’s teeth, someone knows about the journal.”

  Imogen gave him another warning glance before resuming her gentle inquisition. “You realized that one of Vanneck’s possessions was indeed under our roof, did you not, Patricia? Namely the journal.”

  “Yes.” Patricia looked bewildered. “I knew that neither you nor Matthias would believe me if I tried to explain about the curse. You both dismiss it. I had to do something. Matthias had nearly been killed. Who knew how the curse would strike next? I thought that Lady Lyndhurst would have some notion of what to do with the journal, as she is an expert on ancient Zamar and she believed in the Rutledge Curse.”

  “Damnation,” Matthias muttered. “Selena is no expert on anything except fashion.”

  Imogen kept her attention fixed on Patricia. “I understand why you felt you had to take action, but your brother is quite right. The Rutledge Curse is nonsense. I fear that Lady Lyndhurst was playing a rather unpleasant little game with you and the other members of her salon.”

  Patricia sighed. “But, Imogen, I don’t understand. If there is no curse, how can one explain all of the strange events of late?”

  “Coincidence,” Imogen said easily. “They happen all the time.”

  “Coincidence be damned,” Matthias growled twenty minutes later as he stalked into the library behind Imogen. “There is far more than mere coincidence involved in this matter, and well you know it.”

  “Yes, Matthias, but I do not see any reason to alarm Patricia.” Imogen glanced at the closed door of the library as she stripped off her bonnet and gloves. “She is anxious enough as it is. And given the family tendency toward lurid and dreadful imaginings, I think it best that we not frighten her.”

  “It strikes me that there is bloody good cause for a few lurid and dreadful imaginings in this situation.” Matthias flung himself down into the chair behind his desk and watched with brooding eyes as Imogen began to pace the room. “What is this all about?”

  “I’m not certain. But it’s obvious that Lucy’s journal is very important to someone.”

  Matthias narrowed his gaze as he freed his thoughts to make connections between seemingly unconnected events and people. “Selena?”

  “She is certainly a possible suspect.” Imogen appeared to have no trouble following his leaps of logic. “She is the one who pretended to interpret the Rutledge Curse, after all.”

  “Why would she want the damned thing?”

  “I have no notion. As far as I know, Lucy and Selena were only barely acquainted three years ago. Lucy never spoke of her, except occasionally in passing.”

  “Indeed.”

  Imogen gave him a sharp, searching glance. “Do you see some connection that I have missed?”

  “Do you recall the night that we shared an extremely memorable embrace in a certain garden?”

  Imogen turned a charming shade of pink. “Yes, of course. You insisted that we become engaged because of it.”

  “I did not insist upon the engagement simply because of the embrace, delightful though it was.”

  Imogen paused briefly in her pacing. “You insisted upon it because we had been seen by Selena and Alastair Drake.”

  “Precisely. It’s not much to go on, but it is an interesting tidbit of information, is it not?”

  “But it was just a coincidence that they happened to be taking a stroll in the garden together that night and discovered us in such a … such a …” Imogen cleared her throat. “Such a compromising situation.”

  “As I just told you, I am not inclined to believe that there is anything coincidental about this entire affair.”

  “Very well, let us start with some assumptions.” Imogen clasped her hands behind her back and resumed her pacing. “Someone knows that you took the journal from Vanneck’s house. That unknown person attempted to trick Patricia into bringing it with her to the salon today. That individual could well have been Selena, although there is no reason to believe she would have any interest in the journal or that she would have any way of knowing that we possess it.”

  “Perhaps the person behind thi
s was one of the other members of the salon.”

  Imogen shook her head. “Not likely. You saw them, Matthias. They are all young ladies of Patricia’s age. For most, this is their first Season in Society. They would have still been in the schoolroom three years ago. None of them would have even been acquainted with Lucy.”

  “A relative of one of the young ladies, perhaps?”

  “Possible.” Imogen frowned. “But unlikely. It comes back to the same problem. How could any of them have known that you took the journal from Vanneck’s study?”

  “You’re forgetting that there were two other people in Vanneck’s house the other night in addition to myself,” Matthias said. “I could not see their faces because they had gone to a deal of trouble to conceal themselves. But they must have seen me.”

  “Good heavens. You’re right.”

  “They may have assumed that I was after the journal simply because that’s what they were searching for themselves,” Matthias continued. “They considered it valuable and likely concluded that I also knew of its importance.”

  “But you had no notion of its worth.”

  “I did not enter the house to look for anything in particular, but the two people I encountered there could not have known that. I took that blasted journal only because it was obvious Vanneck had deliberately concealed it.” Matthias hesitated. “And because I saw that it had belonged to your friend Lucy.”

  “You do have a remarkable ability for uncovering that which is hidden,” Imogen mused.

  “We all have our small talents. The skill served me well in lost Zamar.” Matthias wondered glumly if she sensed his lies of omission. He had not taken the journal solely because it had been hidden or even because it had belonged to Lucy. He had taken it because he had known that his fate was somehow tied to it.

  But Imogen seemed intent on pursuing the logic of the problem under discussion, not the murky questions of his particular choice of self-imposed doom.

  “The two villains who attacked you may have gone back into the house after you left to continue their search,” she suggested. “When they failed to discover the journal, they may have concluded that you had found it and taken it.”

  “Perhaps they simply hid outside the house and watched as I left with the journal in my hand. There was enough moonlight to see quite clearly the other night.”

  “I don’t know, Matthias. None of it makes sense unless there is something of grave import in Lucy’s journal. But what could that be? Vanneck was the only one who would have cared about Lucy’s affair with Alastair Drake. Surely no one else would be concerned at this late date. It all happened three years ago.”

  Matthias steeled himself for the question he had to ask. “Have you finished reading the journal?”

  “Almost.” She glanced out the window into the garden. “I have made slow progress, I fear. Lucy’s writings have been somewhat painful to read.”

  Matthias picked up the small knife he used to trim the nibs of quill pens and began to fiddle with it. “Imogen, I doubt you will believe this, but I regret forcing you to read that damned journal.”

  “Nonsense.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “You did what you thought best and you were quite right. We need to know what the journal contains that makes it so valuable to someone else.”

  He tossed the blade down onto the desk. “You’re amazing, do you know that? Absolutely astounding. Good God, can you not deal squarely with the truth when you run headlong into it? You’re I. A. Stone, after all.”

  She came to a halt in the middle of the room and stared at him in openmouthed astonishment. “What is wrong? Why are you angry, my lord?”

  “How can you be so bloody damn intelligent on the one hand and so incredibly naive on the other?”

  She gave him an odd smile. “Have you considered that I am not quite so naive as you believe, Matthias? I simply see some truths from a different perspective than you do.”

  “There can be only one truth in any given situation.”

  “I do not agree, my lord. Only recall how often you and I have argued in print about a particular point concerning Zamarian history. In those instances we both interpret the script in an identical fashion but we attribute different meanings to it. Two views of the same truth.”

  “Don’t you understand?” he said through his teeth. “This has got nothing to do with ancient Zamar. As long as we are discussing truth, let us have one thing clear between us.”

  “What is that?”

  Matthias was appalled at what he was doing. He should stop right now, he thought. He was a fool to say another word. He had apparently had a narrow escape in the matter of the journal. He should thank his lucky stars for his good fortune and cease digging this bottomless pit for himself.

  Imogen had convinced herself that he had given her the journal to read because there was no alternative. If he had any sense, he would allow her to go on believing that. It was folly to push his luck in this absurd manner. But he could not stop himself. He leaped into the dark chasm he had excavated.

  “Surely you realize that I was aware of what you were likely to learn about Lucy’s character when I gave you her journal,” he said.

  “You made certain assumptions about Lucy based on old gossip. You assumed I would do the same after I read her journal.”

  “They were more than assumptions. You were hurt by what you read. Bloody hell, I saw your tears, Imogen.”

  She tilted her head to one side and contemplated him in a thoughtful manner. “Aunt Horatia admitted today for the first time that she, too, had been aware of Lucy’s odd behavior.”

  “Odd behavior?” Matthias gave a crack of humorless laughter. “That is putting an extremely kind twist on the matter. She was a heartless jade.”

  “She was deeply troubled. I was her friend for several years before she went to London. I do not deny that certain changes came over her after she left Upper Stickleford.”

  “Changes?”

  “I confess I was concerned, especially when she ceased to write. But I thought that those changes were caused by her marriage.”

  Something in her voice alerted Matthias. “You’ve altered your opinion? You no longer believe that Vanneck was responsible for Lucy’s unhappiness?”

  “Vanneck had a great deal to answer for,” Imogen assured him. “But I now believe that Lucy had other problems.”

  “What the devil are you talking about now?”

  “I have been thinking about what I have read in her journal thus far. As I told Aunt Horatia, I have come to the conclusion that Lucy was ill.”

  Matthias was stunned. “Ill?”

  “I believe that her state of mind was not a healthy one. She was always plagued by a high-strung temperament. At times she suffered from bouts of melancholy. But her moods became far more volatile after she married Vanneck. The tone of her journal reflects her increasing agitation. And there is no doubt but that she became obsessed with Alastair Drake.”

  Matthias gazed at her in stark disbelief. “Let me be certain that I comprehend this fully. You have concluded that Lucy may have been mad?”

  “Not in the manner that we associate with those poor souls who end up in Bedlam. She did not see things that were not there nor did she hear strange voices. Her writings in the journal are quite lucid. Indeed, when I visited her here in London she was always rational. But I see now that something was very wrong. Her consuming passion for Mr. Drake does not seem …” Imogen hesitated, obviously searching for the right word. “Healthy.”

  “She was committing adultery,” Matthias observed derisively. “Perhaps that worried her. After all, she had not yet given Vanneck his heir. He would have been furious if he had learned of her indiscretions. The good wives of the ton always provide their lords with an heir before they take up a career of illicit liaisons.”

  “No, there is more to it than a concern that Vanneck would discover the affair. She wanted Alastair Drake with a single-mindedness that does not seem natural
. She was furious because he did not agree to run off with her.”

  Matthias got to his feet behind the desk. “If I listen to any more of this babble, I shall likely go mad myself. Imogen, your aunt came to see me today.”

  “Aunt Horatia paid a call upon you?” Imogen gave him a quizzical look. “How odd. I went to see her this morning. She did not mention that she intended to speak to you.”

  “It was no doubt your visit to her that inspired hers to me.” Matthias’s jaw ached from the tension that gripped every muscle in his body. “After you talked to her she realized at once, although you did not, just what I had done when I gave you Lucy’s journal.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “That much is obvious.” Matthias flexed his hands and flattened them on top of his desk. He leaned forward slightly and forced himself to look straight into Imogen’s clear eyes. “I made you read Lucy’s journal because I wanted you to face certain facts about your so-called friend. I wanted to force you to see her for what she was. God help me, I practically blackmailed you into reading the damned book, even though I knew you would be hurt by the truth. It was a cruel, callous act on my part.”

  Imogen’s eyes never wavered. “I do not believe that for one moment.”

  “Damnation, it’s the truth,” Matthias said savagely. “Look at me, Imogen. See the truth. Surely you must realize that in giving you Lucy’s journal, I demonstrated just how cold-blooded I am.”

  “Matthias—”

  “The day we met you said that I was not the man you had believed me to be. You were right.” Matthias did not take his eyes off her. “You did not know then just how right you were.”

  A terrible silence fell on the library.

  The chamber was suddenly filled with ghosts. They surrounded Matthias, mocking him with their voiceless mouths, scorning him with their empty eye sockets. Their soundless laughter rang in his ears.

  Why destroy her illusions? They served you well enough, did they not? You did not hesitate to warm your ice-cold soul with the heat of her sweet passion. You reveled in the false image of yourself that you saw in her eyes. Why could you not leave well enough alone? Now you have ruined everything.