Mischief by Amanda Quick
“Would that have been you, by any chance?” Imogen asked.
“Indeed.” Selena smiled again. “By a stroke of luck, Lucy never uncovered my connection to Alastair nor my part in what had happened in the north. It’s obvious that she made no mention of me in her journal, because after Vanneck found it a few months ago, he attempted to blackmail only Alastair.”
Imogen thought she heard the merest hint of a question in Selena’s tone, as though she expected confirmation. Selena was not entirely certain that the journal did not mention her, Imogen realized.
Imogen glanced at Matthias out of the corner of her eye. He moved his head once in a slight negative motion. He did not want her to reassure Selena. As though she could read his mind, Imogen suddenly comprehended that he intended to use the journal to bargain for their lives.
“The night that you and Vanneck met in that bedchamber,” Selena continued, “Alastair arranged to pass by in the hall with a companion. My brother was, as everyone knows, suitably shocked and horrified to discover you in such a compromising position.”
Imogen whirled to confront Alastair. “You and your companion immediately put about the rumor that Vanneck had seduced his wife’s closest friend. Then you somehow convinced Lucy to take too much laudanum.”
“It was not difficult,” Alastair assured her. “I told Lucy that the glass contained a new tonic for her nerves. She had grown extremely anxious and fearful. She took the stuff without question.”
“And everyone called it suicide,” Imogen whispered.
“Congratulations.” Alastair executed a small, mocking bow. “You have finally got it right.”
“A pair of bloody actors,” Matthias said softly.
“As it happens, that is correct.” Selena laughed. “How did you guess? Alastair and I both trod the boards in the north. But three years ago we determined to write our own parts and play them here in London. We have performed brilliantly, if I do say so myself.”
Matthias uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the sarcophagus on either side of his thighs. The new shift in his position caused Alastair to stiffen again.
Matthias regarded him with amused contempt. “When you staged your second murderous little play, you again attempted to cast Imogen and Vanneck in leading roles, did you not? You also added me to your company of players. I was to be Vanneck’s executioner.”
“That was how the scene was written,” Selena said. “But Vanneck refused to act his part.”
“If one of you had thought to consult with me,” Matthias said, “I could have told you that Vanneck was not the type to show up on time for a duel.”
Fury flashed in Selena’s celestial-blue eyes. “I knew that he was weak, but I did not realize that he was such a complete coward until it was too late. I went to see him the night before the duel to act the part of the tearful, distraught former lover.”
“You wished to assure yourself that everything was going according to plan,” Matthias said. “I can imagine your chagrin when you saw that he was preparing to leave Town rather than face me.”
“It was worse than you know,” Selena retorted. “When I arrived, I saw that he had just sat down to write a letter to Imogen. He had learned that she blamed him for Lucy’s death. He intended to tell her that he suspected that Alastair had murdered Lucy. He thought that information might convince Imogen to restrain you, Colchester. I still shudder to think of what might have happened if I had not visited him that evening.”
“You shot him yourself, did you not?” Matthias said easily. “Right there in his study.”
“I had no choice,” Selena said. “He was about to escape to the country.”
Imogen was outraged. “After you killed Vanneck, you summoned Alastair and together the two of you managed to get the body into the curricle. You left him at the scene of the duel, hoping that everyone would assume that Colchester had killed him in cold blood.”
Alastair shrugged. “Or, at the very least, that he had been murdered by a footpad. It did not particularly matter so long as Vanneck was dead.”
Matthias shifted position again. The toe of his boot once more tapped the clay mask. This time Alastair did not appear to take any notice.
Imogen realized that Matthias had made a number of such small, inconsequential motions during the past few minutes. Such restlessness was at odds with his usual air of controlled stillness.
His gaze met hers for a fleeting moment. She had no difficulty reading the warning in his eyes. It was clear that he was planning some desperate action.
In that instant of silent communication Imogen suddenly understood the reason for the series of seemingly unimportant movements. Matthias was attempting to lull Alastair and Selena into growing accustomed to such slight motions from him.
“One thing has puzzled me,” Imogen said slowly. “Why did you wait so long to kill Lord Vanneck? You murdered Lucy three years ago.”
Selena’s eyes darkened. “The bastard did not discover Lucy’s journal until quite recently. No one knew that it even existed until a maid found it packed away with Lucy’s things. It came to light when Vanneck moved into his new town house.”
“For three years Selena and I assumed our secret was safe.” Alastair grimaced. “Then, a couple of months ago Vanneck came to me and said he had found Lucy’s journal and that he knew what she had known. He said that if I made regular payments, he would maintain his silence. I was forced to comply while Selena and I devised a way to get rid of him.”
Selena smiled at Imogen. “And then you conveniently descended upon the ton with that crazed tale of a map and an ancient Zamarian artifact. What’s more, you had Colchester dancing attendance upon you.”
Alastair glanced at Matthias. “I must confess, Selena and I were amazed when you showed a serious interest in Imogen and her map. When you went so far as to seduce her and announce your engagement, we knew that you believed that her map was genuine. There was no other explanation for such a ridiculous alliance.”
“You think not?” Matthias asked gently.
Selena paid no attention. “As you were evidently serious about getting your hands on Imogen and her map, we soon saw a way to use the rivalry between you and Vanneck to bring about Vanneck’s demise.”
“There was still the problem of the journal,” Matthias said. “You had to get rid of it. You searched Vanneck’s house to find it.”
Alastair scowled. “And encountered you. But how did you know about the journal?”
“Ah,” said Imogen. “An excellent question.” She took a small step back until she stood next to the tower of clay tablets that she had stacked a few minutes earlier. “And how many other people know about it?”
“Bah. We shall find a way to get it once you have disappeared.”
“Perhaps,” Matthias said.
“It should not be difficult to convince your grieving sister to get rid of the cursed journal,” Selena murmured.
Matthias smiled. “Do not be too certain of that. I have made arrangements to see that the journal falls into the right hands should anything happen to me or my wife.”
“I don’t believe you,” Selena spat out.
Matthias raised his brows but said nothing.
Alastair frowned. “Selena?”
“He is bluffing, Alastair. Pay him no heed. We will get the journal.”
“You might be interested in learning how we discovered the existence of Lucy’s journal,” Imogen said coolly. “It was no accident, you know.”
Alastair and Selena both rounded on her with glittering expressions. It was clear they had not considered that point.
“What the devil are you talking about?” Alastair demanded.
Selena glared at her. “Vanneck must have told you about it.”
“Actually, no,” Imogen said. “It was not Vanneck.”
“Then who?” Alastair shouted.
Selena flicked him a repressive glance. “Calm yourself, Alastair.”
“Damnation, Sele
“No. She’s lying.”
For an instant Selena and Alastair were occupied with the fresh concern. Matthias chose that moment to move again. This time there was nothing casual or restless about the action.
He reached down and seized the heavy clay mask that had been propped against the edge of the sarcophagus. He hurled it with deadly accuracy straight toward Alastair.
“What are you … ?” Selena reacted first, swinging around to aim the pistol at Matthias. “No. Alastair. Look out.”
Alastair started to turn, but his reaction was too slow. He gave an inarticulate cry and raised his arm. The heavy mask was only partially deflected by his defensive reaction. It struck him with enough force to send him staggering backward. The pistol flew from his hand. Matthias raced toward him.
“Bastard.” Selena’s beautiful face contorted with rage. She started to pull the trigger.
Imogen swept out her hand, striking the stack of Zamarian tablets. They toppled toward Selena, startling her before she could pull the trigger.
“You clumsy, cow-handed oddity.” Selena whirled back to face Imogen. “You have caused all this trouble.”
Imogen turned to flee. Her knee struck the edge of the sarcophagus. She stumbled and fell just as Selena pulled the trigger.
Imogen felt something cold brush her arm as she sprawled ignominiously forward into the stone coffin. Behind her she heard the sounds of a violent scuffle. Selena screamed in raw fury.
Imogen sat up. For some reason her left shoulder did not function properly. She concentrated on using her right arm to pull herself out of the coffin.
She saw with horror that Alastair and Matthias were circling each other warily. Light glinted on the knife blade Alastair gripped. Selena was crouched low in an attempt to seize the pistol Alastair had dropped.
“This time I’m going to kill you, Colchester,” Alastair snarled. He feinted with the knife.
Matthias lashed out with his leg in a strange sweeping movement that caught Alastair on the side of his thigh. Alastair yelled in pain and lurched to the side.
Imogen saw that Selena had almost gotten hold of the fallen pistol. “Oh, no, you don’t.” She heaved herself out of the coffin and launched herself at Selena, colliding with her in a jarring thud.
The force of Imogen’s momentum propelled both her and Selena straight into the towering statue of Zamaris. The impact sent a shudder through the heavy figure. Its poorly repaired arm cracked at the shoulder. Stone grated ominously on stone.
“Imogen, get back,” Matthias shouted.
Imogen rolled to the side in a flurry of skirts. A fraction of a second later the great arm of Zamaris crashed to the floor.
Selena was not able to get out of the way in time. The stone arm struck her shoulders, pinning her to the floor. She gave a short, broken cry and then lay still.
Imogen sat up slowly. There was a strange buzzing sound in her brain and her shoulder hurt. She realized she must have scraped it when she fell into the sarcophagus.
Silence gripped the chamber. She turned to look for Matthias and saw that he was getting to his feet beside Alastair’s still form.
“Matthias.” Imogen struggled to rise. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. What about you?”
“Quite”—Imogen sucked in her breath as pain lanced through her—“fit.”
“My dear, you never cease to amaze me.” Matthias started toward her. His gaze fell on Selena. “Is she dead?”
“I don’t think so.” Imogen glanced at Selena. “Unconscious, I believe. What about Alastair?”
“The same. It looks as though they will both live to stand trial for their crimes.” Matthias frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right, Imogen?”
“Yes, of course.” It took an effort of will to get to her feet. She was forced to grab hold of Zamaris’s leg to steady herself. “I have told you often enough that I am not inclined toward nervous weakness.”
“I envy you your stout nerves, madam.” Matthias smiled ruefully. “Personally, I am feeling somewhat overwrought.”
Imogen swallowed heavily. “Do not expect me to believe that, sir. You have greatly misled me in the matter of your poor nerves.”
“On the contrary. The realization that you were very nearly killed just now will be enough to send me to my bed for a fortnight.” Matthias’s eyes darkened suddenly. “Imogen, your shoulder.”
“Calm yourself, sir. I merely scraped it a bit on the edge of the sarcophagus.”
“The devil you did.” Matthias’s eyes were pools of silver ice as he hurried toward her. “Selena shot you.”
Imogen glanced down at her injured shoulder and saw the blood. “Oh, dear. So she did.” And then the real pain struck. Searing, flaming, mind-dazzling pain.
For the first time in her life, Imogen swooned. Matthias caught her before she hit the floor.
Imogen surfaced from the darkness to find herself in Matthias’s arms. She heard him issue orders to two workmen on the steps of the Zamarian Institution. Something about summoning the watch and securing the two people in the museum.
The world spun again when Matthias lifted her into a hackney coach. She turned her face into Matthias’s shoulder and gritted her teeth. His arms tightened around her.
After what seemed a century of pain, she realized that the coach had come to a halt. Matthias carried her up the steps of the town house. The door opened.
Raised voices sounded from the vicinity of the drawing room. A violent quarrel was in progress, Imogen realized.
“Take your hands off her,” Hugo snarled. “Or I’ll smash your face.”
“She’s my niece,” another man roared. “I’ll do what I like with her.”
“Patricia is not going anywhere with you,” Hugo vowed. “Stand aside. I am prepared to defend her to the death.”
“Ufton,” Matthias bellowed. “Where in the name of God are you?”
“Here, sir,” Ufton said. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t hear you at the door. We’ve got a bit of a problem on our hands.”
“It can wait. Imogen has been shot.”
Imogen opened her eyes and saw Ufton peering down at her with deep concern. “Hello, Ufton.” She was startled at the weakness in her own voice.
“Bring her into the library at once,” Ufton said.
Voices rose again in the drawing room.
“That must be Patricia’s dreadful uncle, Mr. Poole,” Imogen whispered. “He’s here, isn’t he, Ufton?”
“Says he’s come to take Lady Patricia back to Devon with him,” Ufton explained as he opened the library door. “Mr. Bagshaw objects.”
Imogen smiled. “Good for Hugo.”
At that moment another fierce shout went up inside the drawing room. A tall, thin man with greasy hair crashed through the open doorway and sprawled on the hall floor.
For a moment the man lay, stunned, on the marble tile. Then he shook his narrow head and scowled up at Matthias with malevolent eyes. Yellow teeth flashed in his whiskers. He reminded Imogen of a rat.
“I say, you must be Colchester.” The man sat up, rubbing his jaw. “I’m Poole, Patricia’s uncle. Come to take the chit off yer hands, m’lord. That young bastard in there says you told her she could stay with you.”
Hugo came to stand in the doorway. Patricia hovered anxiously behind him.
“It’s the truth.” Hugo massaged the bruised knuckles of his right hand as he looked down at his victim. Then he met Matthias’s eyes. “You gave Patricia your word that you would not send her back to this vermin, did you not, Colchester?”
“Yes, I did.” Matthias walked into the library with Imogen in his arms. “Get rid of him, Bagshaw.”
“With pleasure.”
Imogen caught a blurred glimpse of Hugo as he reached down to haul Poole to his feet.
“Don’t touch me.” Poole reared back out of reach. He skittered across the tile toward the front door. Hugo pursu
Patricia hurried across the hall as Hugo slammed the front door behind Poole. “What’s wrong with Imogen?”
“Lady Lyndhurst shot her.” Matthias settled Imogen gently down onto the dolphin sofa.
“Dear heaven,” Patricia whispered. “Is she going to … to be all right?”
“Yes,” Matthias said. The single word had the weight of a vow sealed with his own blood.
Imogen reclined against the arm of the sofa and managed what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m going to be fine. There is no call for all of you to look so anxious.”
“Let me see what we have here.” With an effort, Ufton managed to get Matthias out of the way so that he could examine the wound.
“Well?” Imogen demanded. The world was no longer spinning. She was feeling better by the minute, she thought.
Ufton nodded, looking quite satisfied. “Just a superficial wound, my lady. You’ll be fit in no time.” He reached for the brandy bottle. “If you’ll take a good, long swallow, madam?”
Imogen blinked. “What an excellent notion, Ufton.”
She allowed him to pour a large measure of the strong brandy down her throat. The liquid burned all the way to her stomach, but it sent a pleasant warmth through her veins. When she was finished she blinked again and gave Matthias a beatific smile. He did not return the smile. If anything, his expression became even more grim.
“If you’ll steady her, sir?” Ufton said softly.
Matthias sat down on the arm of the sofa and took hold of Imogen. He braced her against his leg, his hands gentle but unyielding.
“Forgive me, Imogen,” he said.
“For what?” Imogen scowled up at him. “You have done absolutely nothing offensive, my lord. Indeed, you were most heroic this afternoon. It was quite thrilling. I always knew that you were, at heart, a man of action, sir.”
Ufton poured brandy into the raw wound. Imogen shrieked and fainted for the second time in her life.
Chapter 21
Three days later Imogen was again ensconced on the Zamarian sofa, chatting with Horatia, when Patricia breezed into the library.