Mischief

by Amanda Quick

  Matthias’s teeth flashed in a wicked grin. “You do have an unsettling effect on my delicate sensibilities. Very well, you may accompany me to pay a call upon Selena, but you will allow me to conduct the interview. Is that understood?”

  Imogen gave him her most beatific smile. “But of course, my lord. I would not dream of attempting to take charge of this matter when you are so obviously in command of the situation.”

  Matthias looked distinctly skeptical. “Indeed.”

  Less than half an hour later, a disgruntled housekeeper opened the door of Selena’s town house. She glowered at Imogen and Matthias. “What can I do for ye?”

  “Please inform Lady Lyndhurst that the Countess and Earl of Colchester wish to speak with her about an urgent matter,” Matthias said coldly.

  “Lady Lyndhurst is not at home,” the housekeeper grumbled. “Don’t know when she’ll return.”

  It occurred to Imogen that it was nearly five o’clock. “Has she gone for a drive in the park, perhaps?”

  The housekeeper gave a bark of harsh laughter. “Not unless the fancy has taken to packing its bags afore it sets out for the park.”

  “Are you telling us that Lady Lyndhurst has packed up and left Town?” Matthias asked.

  “Aye, that’s what I’m sayin’.”

  “But we were just here a few hours ago,” Imogen protested. “She held her Zamarian salon earlier today.”

  “She shooed all them young ladies out the door the moment you two left,” the housekeeper said. “And then she set the staff to packing as fast as they could. Never seen the like.”

  “Did Lady Lyndhurst mention her destination?” Matthias asked.

  “Not to me, she didn’t.” The housekeeper shrugged broad shoulders.

  “Damnation,” Matthias muttered.

  Something in the housekeeper’s tone caught Imogen’s attention. She recalled the tales that Mrs. Vine had related concerning her former tenants and their secret lives. “Did Lady Lyndhurst remember to pay the quarterly wages to the staff before she left?”

  “No, she did not.” Indignation flared in the housekeeper’s eyes. “Typical of that sort. After three years of loyal service, she takes herself off without bothering to pay any of us.”

  Imogen slid a sidelong glance at Matthias. “My husband would be happy to reimburse you and the rest of the staff if you could give us some notion of where Lady Lyndhurst went.”

  “Imogen, what the devil are you about?” Matthias demanded. “I never said—”

  “Hush, my lord.” Imogen kept her attention on the housekeeper. “Well? Do we have a bargain?”

  A hopeful gleam appeared in the housekeeper’s eye. “Expect her brother will likely know where she’s gone.”

  “Her brother?” Imogen gazed at the woman in astonishment. “I was not aware that Lady Lyndhurst had a brother.”

  “That’s because the two of ’em kept it quiet,” the housekeeper said slyly. “I learned about it by accident right after I went to work for Lady Lyndhurst. No one pays any attention to staff. Act as if we’re invisible. But we got eyes and ears, same as the fancy. I overheard the pair of ’em talkin’ one day when he came to visit.”

  “What is the name of Lady Lyndhurst’s brother?” Matthias inquired softly.

  The housekeeper looked shrewd. “I’ll be happy to tell ye, sir, once me and the staff have got our wages.”

  “Never mind,” Matthias said. “I believe we can hazard a guess concerning the identity of Lady Lyndhurst’s brother. There is only one likely candidate for the post.”

  Inspiration struck Imogen. “Alastair Drake?”

  The housekeeper’s face crumpled. “Ain’t that just like the fancy. Spend a fortune on clothes and horses and then turn all clutch-fisted and cheeseparing when it comes to paying the poor folk that work for ’em.”

  “Give her the money for the quarterly wages, my lord,” Imogen instructed.

  Matthias glowered. “Why should I do that?”

  “Colchester, this is no time to be stubborn. Pay her the money.”

  Matthias sighed in resignation. “Very well.” He turned back to the housekeeper. “As I have just agreed to pay for information that I already possess, perhaps you will be so good as to confirm it?”

  Relief shone in the woman’s face. “Lady Lyndhurst’s brother is Mr. Alastair Drake, all right. Don’t have any notion why the two of ’em wanted to keep their family connection a secret. What possible difference could it make to anyone?”

  “An excellent question,” Imogen murmured.

  “Thus far, we seem to be collecting far more questions than answers,” Imogen remarked as Matthias handed her up onto the phaeton box. “So Mr. Drake and Selena are brother and sister. I wonder if that is the secret Lucy discovered.”

  “She may have learned of the relationship,” Matthias said as he picked up the reins. “But it does not seem worthy of blackmail, let alone murder.”

  “Not unless Mr. Drake and Selena concealed their connection in order to hide another, more dangerous secret.” Imogen grabbed at the crown of her wide, shell-trimmed bonnet as the horses set off. “I wonder if Mr. Drake also left Town this afternoon.”

  “That should be easy enough to confirm. I shall drive past his lodgings. I believe they are in Hollowell Street.”

  “How do you come to know that, Matthias?”

  “I made it my business to learn a few things about Drake shortly after we came to London,” he said grimly.

  Imogen was suddenly deeply intrigued. “Why on earth did you make inquiries about him?”

  “Let us just say that the sight of you in his arms that day I called upon you and your aunt raised a number of interesting questions.”

  Imogen gazed at him in astonished wonder. “Never say that you were jealous of Alastair Drake, Matthias.”

  “Of course not.” Matthias fixed his attention on his horses’ ears. “Jealousy is a ridiculous, immature passion suited only to smoldering poets and very young men.”

  “Of course, my lord.” He had definitely been jealous, Imogen told herself. She smiled complacently. “What do you propose to do if Mr. Drake has disappeared?”

  “Take precautions.” Matthias’s eyes narrowed. “I do not care for the feel of this situation, Imogen. Something is very wrong.”

  “I agree.”

  A few minutes later Matthias halted the phaeton in front of 12 Hollowell Street. No one-responded to the knock on Alastair’s front door.

  A glance through the undraped windows revealed a chaotic scene inside the rooms at Number 12. Alastair Drake had obviously packed his belongings in a hurry.

  “They’re both gone. It is incredible.” Imogen led the way back into Matthias’s library a short while later. “But why? What made them so uneasy that they felt they had to leave Town?”

  “The fact that we possessed the journal and had no intention of letting it fall into Selena’s hands,” Matthias said. He yanked impatiently at the knot of his cravat. “After that scene in Selena’s drawing room today, she obviously concluded that we had either discovered the same secret Lucy had uncovered, or that we would soon do so.”

  “She must have notified Alastair.” Imogen frowned in thought. “And the pair of them panicked and left Town?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She glanced up swiftly, alarmed by Matthias’s ominous tone. “What do you mean, perhaps?”

  Matthias went to stand in front of the window, the ends of his snowy white cravat draped casually around his neck. “There is every likelihood that Drake killed Lucy because she had learned his secret. He may also have shot Vanneck for the same reason.”

  “But Vanneck would have inherited Lucy’s journal three years ago. Why wait until this year to murder him?”

  Matthias braced one hand on the windowsill. “Who knows when Vanneck actually discovered the journal or when he got around to reading it?”

  “A few months ago he sold his large house and bought a new, smaller residence,”
Imogen reminded him. “Perhaps the journal came to light when his staff packed up his household for the move.”

  “Quite possibly. There is something else though. Lucy did not reveal this deep, dark secret in her journal. She only alluded to having discovered it and stated that she planned to use it to blackmail Drake. The secret itself is not actually written down in that damned book.”

  “True.” Imogen clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace the library. “But the fact that Vanneck had concealed the journal in his study implies that he knew it was important.”

  “And the fact that Selena and Drake want it indicates that they believe that Lucy did write down the secret. How would they know otherwise if they have never read the journal?”

  “Excellent point,” Imogen whispered. “What if Vanneck had only recently discovered the journal, as you suggest? What if he learned that Selena and Alastair had something to hide but did not know what it was?”

  “Vanneck might very well have tried a bluff. He may have let Drake think he knew the secret that Lucy had discovered and attempted to blackmail him, just as Lucy had done. And Drake killed him, just as he killed Lucy.”

  “Yes. A brilliant deduction. That makes perfect sense, Colchester.”

  “Thank you. Coming from I. A. Stone, that is praise indeed.” Matthias turned away from the window and walked toward his desk. “One thing we know for certain is that the journal is dangerous. Until we know why, I intend to make sure that both you and Patricia are protected.”

  Imogen was startled. “Surely you do not believe that your sister and I are in jeopardy? Selena and Alastair have left London.”

  “So they would have us believe. I do not intend to take any chances.” A knock on the library door interrupted Matthias. “What is it, Ufton?”

  “A Mr. Hugo Bagshaw to see you, sir,” Ufton said calmly.

  “Bagshaw?” Matthias scowled. “That young man has a wretched sense of timing. Tell him that I am not at home.”

  Hugo came to stand behind Ufton in the doorway. He was dressed to the nines and he clutched a small bouquet in one hand. He glowered furiously at Matthias. “I knew you were only trying to cozen me when you told me that I would be welcome to pay my addresses to your sister. Why didn’t you have the decency to be honest about it? Why feed me all that rubbish about how you and I had something in common?”

  “Hugo.” Imogen smiled warmly and held out her hands in greeting as she hurried across the room. “Do come in. We are delighted to see you. Is that not so, Colchester?”

  “I have a few other matters to attend to at the moment,” Matthias said evenly. “Or have you forgotten our other small problem?”

  “Of course not,” she assured him. “But I do feel that Hugo should be made welcome.”

  “Some other time,” Matthias growled.

  “Hah.” Hugo’s brows were a solid line across his nose. “You don’t mean that. You’re just trying to get rid of me, Colchester.”

  “Hugo.” Patricia’s delighted voice rang out from the top of the stairs. “I mean, Mr. Bagshaw. What are you doing here? Have you come to call?”

  “Yes, I have,” Hugo said very loudly. “But it seems I am not welcome.”

  “That is not true,” Imogen said crisply. “Ufton, please get out of the way so that Mr. Bagshaw can enter the library.”

  “As you wish, madam.” After a fleeting glance at Matthias, Ufton stepped aside.

  “Oh, Hugo,” Patricia cried as she pattered lightly down the stairs. “Of course you are welcome.”

  Imogen smiled at Ufton. “Have a tray of tea brought into the library, please.”

  “Yes, madam.” Ufton inclined his head in a stiff little bow and started to retreat.

  “Don’t bother.” Hugo drew himself up proudly. “It would appear that I will not be staying.”

  “On the contrary”—Imogen cast a repressive look at Matthias—“I have just explained that you are most welcome. Please be seated, Hugo.” She sharpened her tone. “Now.”

  Hugo appeared slightly taken aback. He blinked once or twice and then edged cautiously into the library.

  Matthias resigned himself to the inevitable. He sat down behind his desk and regarded the crowd in the doorway with a considering expression. “By all means, Bagshaw, take a seat. As it happens, I have need of your assistance.”

  “Assistance?” Hugo eyed him warily. “What the devil are you talking about, Colchester?”

  Matthias smiled grimly. “At the moment, Patricia has more use for a bodyguard than she does a beau. I have been told that you have been practicing your marksmanship quite diligently at Manton’s and that you have engaged Mr. Shrimpton to teach you the fine points of boxing.”

  Hugo turned a dull shade of red. “What of it?”

  “I realize that you no doubt intended to use your new skills against me, but I have a more practical suggestion. What do you say, Bagshaw? Do you care to play the knight-defender for my sister?”

  “Whatever are you talking about, Colchester?” Patricia demanded.

  “Yes, what on earth do you mean?” Imogen asked.

  “It’s very simple,” Matthias said. “I do not want either you or Patricia to leave this house unless you are escorted by myself or Bagshaw. Ufton will serve in a pinch, but he has a number of other duties. I would prefer that he be left free to discharge his responsibilities.”

  Hugo stared at Matthias, clearly fascinated by this turn of events. “Are you saying that there is a threat to the ladies of this household, Colchester?”

  “Yes,” Matthias said. “That is precisely what I’m saying. I do not yet know how great the threat is. I intend to determine that at the earliest possible moment. In the meantime, I want to enlist the assistance of a man I can trust. Well, sir?”

  Hugo glanced at Patricia, who blushed. He straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. “I would be honored to serve as Lady Patricia’s defender.”

  Patricia looked at him with a worshipful expression. “Oh, Hugo. How very brave and noble of you.”

  Hugo flushed. Then he apparently recalled the bouquet he held. He thrust it toward her. “For you.”

  “Thank you.” Patricia smiled as she came forward to take the flowers.

  Imogen sidled closer to the desk and gave Matthias an approving smile. “Well done, my lord,” she murmured out of the side of her mouth. “You have made two people very happy.”

  “Thank you, my dear, but I assure you, it’s all in a day’s work for a man who possesses my degree of delicate sensibilities and exquisite depth of feeling.”

  Chapter 19

  She was standing in Uncle Selwyn’s black-draped library. Ebony candles burned low. Dark hangings drifted over her head. The eyes of the sepulchral masks watched her from the walls. The scene had become chillingly familiar, but she realized that something was different this time.

  She turned, searching for Matthias in the shadows. Then she noticed that there were two sarcophagi rather than one in the chamber. Both of the heavily carved lids had been removed. She froze in horror as two figures sat up inside the coffins. Selena and Alastair. They laughed silently, their eyes cruel and mocking. Then they pointed skeletal fingers toward the cloaked figure of a man sprawled on the carpet. Imogen went forward with a sense of dread, afraid of what she would discover. His face was turned away from her but she could see the swath of silver in his night-dark hair.

  “It’s entirely your fault, you know,” Alastair said as he got out of the coffin. “He would never have been dragged into this amusing little play if you had not assigned him a role in it.”

  “Entirely your fault,” Selena concurred. She rose from her sarcophagus and stepped onto the carpet.

  Imogen came awake very suddenly. Ghostly fragments of the terrifying dream clung to her thoughts. Her skin was damp. So were her eyes. She took several deep breaths in an attempt to quell the sense of panic that assailed her. Strong nerves, she reminded herself. She had very sturdy nerves.


  For a moment she lay motionless in the darkened bed. Something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong. Then she realized that she was alone. She could not feel the familiar, comforting heat of Matthias’s large body or the weight of his muscled arm across her breasts. Fear seized her.

  “Matthias.”

  “I’m right here, Imogen.”

  She sensed rather than heard him move. She sat up quickly, clutching the sheet to her throat. Matthias was silhouetted against the window. He came toward her through the darkness, his face concealed in shadow. There was just enough moonlight to reveal the streak of silver in his hair. It looked exactly as it had in the dream.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to blot up the remainder of the dream and the tears. “This is all my fault. I should never have brought you into it.”

  “What damnable nonsense is this?” Matthias sat down on the edge of the bed and gathered her into his arms. “Calm yourself, my dear. Are you all right?”

  “I had a dream. A nightmare.” She rested her face on his shoulder. The woven silk of his black dressing gown was reassuringly rough against her cheek. “It was similar to one I’ve had on previous occasions, but this time Selena and Alastair were in it.”

  “Not surprising under the circumstances.” Matthias stroked her hair. “I’ve had a few unpleasant visions concerning that pair myself tonight. The only difference is that mine occurred while I was lying awake in bed. But such dreams will end once I’ve located Drake and his sister.”

  “Matthias, I never meant to put you in danger. It was wrong of me to ask you to help me. I had no right—”

  “Hush.” He bent his head and kissed her into silence.

  Imogen trembled and clung to him.

  Matthias lifted his mouth from hers and smiled slightly. “I shall tell you something now, Imogen. Something very important, so listen closely.” He framed her face between his hands. “You could not have kept me out of this.”

  “I don’t understand. If I had not held you to that promise that you made to Uncle Selwyn, none of this would have happened. You would have been safe.”