by Amanda Quick
“From the moment I met you, nothing could have kept me from becoming involved in your life, do you understand?”
“But, Matthias—”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“But if I had not summoned you to Upper Stickleford—”
“I would have found you soon thereafter. I had already determined to discover the identity of I. A. Stone. It would not have taken me long. So you see? It would all have been the same in the end.”
“Oh, Matthias, you are so kind, but I—”
“No,” he interrupted roughly. “I’m not kind. But I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life.”
His mouth came down on hers again, overwhelming her protests with the potent force of his sensual hunger. Imogen struggled briefly and then, with a small sigh, allowed herself the rare luxury of surrender.
Sometimes it was very pleasant to let Matthias take charge, she reflected. Then again, sometimes she had little choice. He did seem to have a natural tendency to take the lead in a number of activities besides the waltz. And as she was inclined to do the same, it was safe to say that their lives together would not be dull.
When Matthias raised his head, his eyes were fierce. “You will not speak of regrets or guilt again, do you understand? I regret nothing and I will not allow you to feel any regret either.”
Imogen shivered and nestled closer. He wrapped her in the cloak of his strength and warmth.
“Do you think that you will be able to find the Bow Street runner Lucy hired?” she asked after a while.
“I hope to hear something tomorrow, but I have decided not to invest all of my expectations in that quarter. It would be extremely useful to interview the runner, but there are other ways to obtain information. In the morning I shall explore one of them.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“Pay a call upon Felix Glaston.”
“Your former partner?”
“Yes. Information flows through The Lost Soul the way the River Styx flows through Hades, and Felix is an adept fisherman. He might be able to catch something of interest in his net.”
Imogen raised her head. “I shall look forward to making Mr. Glaston’s acquaintance. He must be a most interesting individual.”
“You wish to meet Felix?” Matthias was startled. “Impossible. Your aunt would surely murder me if I introduced you to him. And no one would condemn her.”
“My aunt has nothing to say about the matter.”
“Imogen, be reasonable. Felix operates a gaming hell. A lady does not pay social calls upon men who own business enterprises such as The Lost Soul.”
“You operated that same hell yourself at one time.”
“That was several years ago, and I can assure you that in those days you would not have been able to call upon me either.” His mouth twisted. “At least not without damaging your reputation beyond any hope of repair.”
“Do you think that would have stopped me?”
Matthias groaned. “Knowing you, no. But that is not the point. It is simply not done for a lady to enter the residence of a man who runs a gaming hell.”
“Rubbish. When did you become such a keen arbiter of proper behavior and good manners, my lord?”
“Imogen—”
“Cold-blooded Colchester and Immodest Imogen have certain reputations to maintain. I trust that you do not intend to turn into a stuffy, straitlaced prig now that you have assumed the duties of a husband, Matthias. It would be a dreadful disappointment.”
“Would it, indeed?”
“You know very well that I do not care what the Polite World thinks. Why should I, when it has always thought so little of me?”
Matthias laughed in the darkness. “Once again my common sense is undone by your bold logic, madam. Very well, I shall take you with me to meet Felix on the morrow. Something tells me that the two of you will get along famously.”
Matthias was thoroughly amused by the stunned expression on the face of Felix’s butler. The poor man swallowed heavily several times before he managed to repeat the names of the visitors.
“Lord and Lady Colchester, did you say, sir?”
“You heard me, Dodge,” Matthias replied dryly.
“Lady Colchester?” Dodge repeated very carefully. “Are you quite certain, sir?”
“Dodge, are you implying that I do not know the identity of my own wife?”
“No, of course not, m’lord,” Dodge stammered.
Imogen gave him a blinding smile.
“Beg pardon.” Dodge was transfixed by Imogen. “I shall announce you both at once If you will excuse me.”
Dodge bowed himself back into the hall, turned, and promptly slammed the door in Matthias’s and Imogen’s faces.
“Mr. Glaston’s butler seems a trifle unnerved,” Imogen observed.
“He’s seen me standing on Felix’s doorstep often enough,” Matthias said, “but I can assure you, he’s never before opened the door to a countess.”
Imogen gazed at the closed door. “He did not actually open it, if you will note. At least not for long.”
“He was flustered. No doubt he will soon realize that he left us standing on the front step and rush back to make amends.”
At that moment Dodge yanked the door open again. He was sweating profusely. “Beg your pardon. So sorry. Accident. Wind caught the door. I pray you will both come in out of the cold. Mr. Glaston will see you at once.”
“Thank you, Dodge.” Matthias took Imogen’s arm and escorted her into Felix’s grand front hall.
“This way, madam.” Dodge went to stand in the doorway of a firelit library. He cleared his throat very loudly. “Lord and Lady Colchester to see you, sir.”
“Colchester.” Felix rose from his chair with the aid of his cane. “This is a surprise.” He turned a speculative gaze on Imogen. “Dodge tells me that your new bride has accompanied you.”
“Allow me to present my wife.” Matthias was aware of a surge of satisfaction as he said the simple words. “Imogen, this is my old friend, Felix Glaston.”
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Glaston.” Imogen held out her hand as though she had just been introduced to a high-ranking gentleman of the ton. “Colchester has told me a great deal about you.”
“I see.” Surprise flared in Felix’s eyes. For a few seconds he looked as though he did not know quite what to do with Imogen’s hand. Then he swiftly took it and bent over her gloved fingers with the air of a cultivated courtier. “I am honored. Please, won’t you both be seated.”
Matthias saw Imogen into a chair near the fire and then sat down across from her. He watched Felix wince as he lowered himself cautiously into his own chair. He noticed that his friend had his gnarled hands wrapped very tightly around the head of the cane.
“Leg acting up?” Matthias asked quietly.
“It’s the weather.” Felix sighed heavily as he leaned the cane against the arm of his chair. “I think I can safely forecast rain in the next few hours.”
“My aunt has an excellent remedy for rheumatism and other pains in the extremities,” Imogen said conversationally. “I shall ask her to write out the recipe for you.”
Felix blinked. “That is very kind of you, Lady Colchester.”
“Not at all.” Imogen smiled. “It is Aunt Horatia’s own personal recipe. She created it herself.”
“Very kind,” Felix repeated. He looked as dazed as Dodge had appeared a few moments earlier.
Matthias concluded that it was time to take command of the situation. If he did not act quickly, his old friend was likely to turn into a blithering idiot.
“We have come upon a matter of some urgency,” Matthias said.
Felix tore his attention away from Imogen’s face. “Urgency? What sort of urgency?”
“A matter of life and death,” Imogen announced.
Matthias grimaced. “My wife has a somewhat lurid turn of phrase on occasion, but I assure you the matter is serious enough. I
have a question for you, Felix.”
Felix spread his hands. “Ask it, my friend. If I know the answer, I shall be happy to supply it.”
“What do you know of Alastair Drake?”
“Drake?” Felix scowled in thought. “He appeared in Town about three years ago, I believe. Plays cards at The Lost Soul on occasion. Come to think of it, he has not been there much of late. Why?”
“Did you know that he is Lady Lyndhurst’s brother?” Imogen asked.
Felix quirked a brow. “No. Is it significant?”
“We want to know why the pair of them have kept their connection a secret,” Matthias said. “For starters, I wish to discover where they lived before they took up residence in London.”
Imogen leaned forward eagerly. “Were you by any chance acquainted with Lord Lyndhurst, Mr. Glaston?”
Felix exchanged glances with Matthias. “I do not believe so,” he said.
Imogen looked at Matthias. “Did you know him, Colchester?”
“No,” Matthias said thoughtfully. “I never met the man.”
“How very odd. Between the two of you, I would have thought that you would have met most of the gentlemen in London at one time or another. I am told that sooner or later they all show up at The Lost Soul.” Imogen paused. “Do you suppose that there ever was a Lord Lyndhurst?”
Felix’s eyes creased at the corners. “An excellent question.”
“Yes, it is,” Matthias said. “Should have thought of it myself.”
“Indeed.” Felix steepled his fingers. “You have married a very clever lady, Colchester. My congratulations. I am delighted to see that you have found yourself someone who can bring you up to scratch on occasion.”
“I most certainly will not be bored,” Matthias murmured.
Imogen gave Matthias a warm smile. “Colchester and I have a great deal in common.”
“I can see that you do.” Felix settled more comfortably into the depths of his chair. “Well, then, it should not be difficult to learn the answers to your questions. I shall look into the matter immediately.”
Imogen’s eyes lit with gratitude and excitement. “That would be wonderful, Mr. Glaston. How can we ever thank you?”
Felix eyed her thoughtfully. “By staying for a cup of tea, Lady Colchester. I have never taken tea with a countess.”
“I’m certain that it will not prove nearly so entertaining as tea with the owner of a gaming hell,” Imogen said. “Indeed, when Colchester informed me that we were to call upon you, I confess I rather hoped that we would be paying a visit to your place of business. I have never seen a hell.”
Felix stared at her in amazement. Then he looked at Matthias.
Matthias shrugged.
Felix turned back to Imogen. “Perhaps some other time, Lady Colchester,” he began smoothly.
Imogen brightened. “That would be lovely. Would tomorrow be convenient?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Matthias said grimly.
Imogen smiled at Felix. “Pay no attention to him, Mr. Glaston. My husband suffers from an overanxious temperament. Delicate sensibilities, you know.”
Felix gave her his most cherubic grin. “I suspect that you will have a bracing effect upon his nerves, madam.”
The message from Bow Street was waiting when Imogen and Matthias returned home. Ufton delivered the news as he ushered them into the hall.
“The runner you seek was killed nearly three years ago, m’lord. Shot dead by a highwayman whom he was attempting to arrest.”
Matthias glanced at Imogen. “More likely murdered by Alastair Drake.”
A chill went through Imogen. “Yes. After Lucy died, the runner would have been the only other person who knew his secret. He would have had to get rid of him.”
Horatia glanced across her cozy parlor and smiled at the sight of Patricia and Hugo. The pair were seated at a small table, absorbed in a game of cards.
“I must say, they make a handsome couple,” Horatia murmured to Imogen. “But I find it amazing that Colchester has given Mr. Bagshaw permission to pay his addresses to Patricia. The whole world was certain that Hugo and Colchester were fated to engage in a duel before the end of the Season.”
“It only goes to show how often Society misjudges a situation,” Imogen said.
Hugo had taken his new responsibilities very seriously. For the past few days he had made himself available to escort Patricia and, on those occasions when Matthias was otherwise occupied, Imogen, wherever they wished to go. He had endured hours of shopping, afternoon drives in the park, and endless evenings spent in stuffy ballrooms.
Patricia had confided that her gallant defender had taken to carrying a small pistol on his person. “Just in case,” she explained to Imogen. The information had made Imogen somewhat uneasy, but she supposed it was wise for Hugo to go about armed. She wondered if Matthias did the same.
It should have all been quite exciting, Imogen reflected, but, in fact, life had quickly become exceedingly tedious and confining. Patricia seemed happy enough to have Hugo escort her everywhere, but Imogen was beginning to chafe beneath the restrictions Matthias had imposed. She had never been obliged to wait upon a gentleman’s convenience before she made plans. She did not care for the experience.
Unfortunately, in spite of Felix’s predictions, it had proven considerably more difficult to obtain information on Alastair Drake and Selena than anyone had suspected. It was as though the pair had simply materialized upon the London scene three years earlier. They had the money to keep up appearances and the social polish to ensure themselves a welcome in the best drawing rooms. No one had questioned their pasts.
Four days had passed with no firm word of the pair. Rumors abounded, however, and Felix Glaston had sent several messages imparting tidbits of information. None of it could be confirmed. The strain was beginning to affect the entire household.
Matthias had become increasingly restless and irritable. He prowled his library and growled at the servants. At night he spent hours at the bedchamber window, gazing out into the darkness. It was only in the moments immediately after he had made love to Imogen that he seemed to find some peace. And that contentment was short-lived.
For her part, Imogen had begun to dread falling asleep. Her dreams of blood and sarcophagi had grown more frequent and more disturbing. She awoke, shivering, two or three times a night to find herself wrapped tightly in Matthias’s arms.
The entire affair had become quite maddening, even for someone with strong nerves.
That morning Matthias had announced at breakfast that he intended to meet with Felix at The Lost Soul. When Imogen had mentioned that she would like to accompany him, he had adamantly refused to even consider the notion.
Trapped at home, Imogen and Patricia immediately made plans to escape the house for a few hours. Imogen suggested that they both go to the museum at the Zamarian Institution. She longed to lose herself in her researches for a time. Patricia had complained that she would collapse from boredom if she was forced to spend an entire afternoon among the dusty relics of ancient Zamar.
After a spirited discussion of the alternatives, they had agreed to pay a visit to Horatia. Patricia had sent a message to Hugo informing him that his services as an escort were required. He had dutifully appeared at the appointed time and had whisked them off to Horatia’s town house.
“What will you do if Colchester is unable to locate Lady Lyndhurst and Mr. Drake?” Horatia asked with a troubled frown.
“The situation cannot go on forever,” Imogen said. “I certainly do not intend to endure much more of this imprisonment.”
“Imprisonment?” Horatia’s brows rose above her spectacles. “That rather overstates the case, don’t you think?”
“It would be different if Matthias would allow Patricia and me the same freedom to come and go that he has accorded himself,” Imogen complained. “But that is not the case.”
“Ah, well, I’m certain that it will all be over soon.”
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br /> “I trust so. Colchester has promised to escort me to the Zamarian museum on two different occasions during the past four days and both times he has broken the engagement because his friend Mr. Glaston sent him a message. It is very irritating.”
Horatia hesitated and then lowered her voice. “The current situation aside, are you happy in your marriage, my dear?”
“I beg your pardon?” Imogen pulled her thoughts away from Matthias. “What an odd question. Why do you ask?”
“You are an unusual woman, Imogen. And Colchester is hardly a typical gentleman of the ton. I had some understandable concerns.”
“I am well content with my marriage. The only thing that warrants concern is finding Alastair and Selena. Until that is done, no one in our household will sleep well.”
“It is rather unsettling to think that there is a murderer running about,” Horatia said.
“Knew a murderer once,” Mrs. Vine announced matter-of-factly as she came through the doorway with a tray of tea. “Rented this house five, maybe six years ago. Right proper gentleman, he was. Very clean in his habits compared to some of the tenants I’ve had here.”
Everyone in the parlor turned to stare at Mrs. Vine.
Imogen found her voice first. “You kept house for a murderer, Mrs. Vine?”
“I did indeed. Didn’t know it at first, of course.” She set the tray down on a table and began to arrange the cups. “Always paid his rent on time, he did. I was sorry to lose him as a tenant.”
“How did you learn that he was a murderer?” Hugo demanded, fascinated.
“Unfortunate confrontation in the hall one night,” Mrs. Vine said with a sigh of sincere regret. “It was me night off and I’d been to visit me sister that evening. But instead of stayin’ with her until mornin’ as I generally did, I decided to come back here. Ran into Mr. Leversedge in the hall, I did. Unexpected like, y’see. He had just returned home a few minutes afore me. He was draggin’ a body down into the basement.”
“Good Lord,” Horatia breathed, transfixed. “He hid the bodies in the basement?”
“Did his work on the nights I was off visitin’ me sister. Took the bodies down into the basement to cut ’em up so’s they’d fit nice and neat into boxes. Then he hauled the boxes out of the city and got rid of ’em.”