Mischief by Amanda Quick
Vanneck was so intent on Imogen that he did not see Matthias until he nearly trod on the toe of one of Matthias’s brilliantly polished Hessians.
“Beg your pardon,” Vanneck muttered as he maneuvered for a better vantage point. Then he recognized Matthias. Surprise flared in his heavily lidded eyes. “Colchester.” Wary curiosity replaced the initial startled expression on his face. “Heard you were in Town. What the devil brings you here? Thought you couldn’t stand this sort of affair.”
“Everyone seems to be asking me the same question tonight. I am beginning to find it monotonous.”
Vanneck flushed. His thin mouth tightened angrily at the rebuff. “Sorry.”
“Pay me no mind, Vanneck. I am preoccupied with another matter this evening.”
“Indeed.”
Matthias ignored the deepening speculation in Vanneck’s eyes. He had never cared for the man. Their paths crossed on occasion not only because Vanneck was a member of the Zamarian Society but because he also belonged to one or two of Matthias’s clubs.
Matthias knew that Vanneck had once been accounted a handsome man by the ladies of the ton. But he was in his mid-forties now and the years of heavy drinking and debauched living had taken their toll. He had grown thick around the middle and jowls had softened his formerly square jaw.
Matthias watched as Imogen was introduced to their hostess, the plump, cheerful Letitia, Lady Hunt. It was obvious that Horatia and Letty were old friends. The two women were bubbling together like two pots on a stove. Letty was clearly thrilled at the stir she had created with her unexpected guests. Her ball would be on everyone’s lips in the morning. Horatia had chosen the first invitation well.
“Imogen Waterstone,” Vanneck offered. “Hasn’t been in Town for some three years now. She was a friend of my late wife’s.”
Matthias slanted him a brief glance. “So I’ve heard.”
Vanneck scowled. “You know her?”
“Let’s just say that I know enough about her to seek an introduction.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Vanneck muttered. “Woman’s an oddity.”
Matthias had a vision of this dissipated, self-indulgent bastard luring Imogen to a bedchamber and had to repress an almost overpowering urge to plant a fist in Vanneck’s meaty face. He made himself turn away and push through the last circle of onlookers.
Imogen, who had been listening politely as Horatia and Letty exchanged news, brightened at the sight of him. Matthias smiled faintly.
“Colchester.” Letty beamed at him. His presence there was a great coup, and she was well aware of what she owed him. In a single stroke he had made her a hostess to be reckoned with.
“Letty.” Matthias bowed over her plump, gloved hand. “My congratulations on a most entertaining affair. May I impose upon you for an introduction to your new guests?”
Letty’s round face glowed with delight. “But of course, my lord. Allow me to present my great, good friend, Mrs. Horatia Elibank, and her niece, Imogen Waterstone. Ladies, the Earl of Colchester.”
Matthias smiled reassuringly into Horatia’s anxious eyes as he bowed over her hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Elibank.” He let his gaze glide across Imogen’s eager face.
“My lord.” Horatia cleared her throat. “You’ll be interested to learn that my niece is a student of ancient Zamar.”
“Indeed.” Matthias took Imogen’s gloved hand. He recalled the script Imogen had provided in her morning note. “What a coincidence. So am I.”
Imogen’s eyes danced in triumphant approval as he quoted the proper opening lines. “Sir, are you by any chance the Lord Colchester who discovered lost Zamar and made it more fashionable than ancient Egypt?”
“I am certainly Colchester.” Matthias decided it was time to depart from the script. “As for Zamar, I can only say that it came into fashion simply because it is Zamar.”
Imogen’s gaze narrowed slightly at his improvised lines, but she stuck determinedly to her own role. “I am delighted to meet you, my lord. I believe we have much to discuss.”
“There is no better time than now to begin the conversation. Will you honor me with this dance?”
She blinked in surprise. “Oh, yes, of course, sir.”
With a nod to Horatia, Matthias reached out to take hold of Imogen’s arm. He missed by several inches, as she had already started off through the crowd. He managed to catch up with her just as she reached the crowded dance floor.
Imogen turned smartly, stepped into his arms, and immediately swept him into an energetic waltz.
“It has begun.” Excitement lit her eyes. “I was greatly relieved to see you here tonight, sir.”
“I merely followed instructions.”
“Yes, I know, but I confess I was a trifle concerned that you might have succumbed to your doubts about my scheme.”
“I was rather hoping that you might have had a few qualms yourself by now, Imogen.”
“Not at all.” She cast a quick, searching glance from side to side and then steered him toward a quieter corner of the floor. “Have you seen Vanneck?”
“He’s here.” Being led about the dance floor by his partner was something of a novelty, Matthias reflected.
“Excellent.” Imogen’s hand tightened around Matthias’s fingers. “Then he will have taken note of your sudden interest in me?”
“He and everyone else in the room. I do not generally make it a habit to be seen at this sort of thing.”
“All the better. Aunt Horatia is planting the tale of the Queen’s Seal in Lady Blunt’s ear even as we speak. She will inform her that Uncle Selwyn left the map to me. Word will spread quickly. I expect Vanneck will hear the rumors tonight, or tomorrow at the very latest.”
“No doubt, given the way gossip moves through Society,” Matthias agreed grimly.
“As soon as he learns that I possess the key to the Queen’s Seal, he will recall how you seized upon the opportunity to gain an introduction to me at the earliest opportunity.” Imogen smiled with satisfaction. “He will immediately wonder why you would bother to do so. He will then conclude that there is only one obvious reason you would make it a point to meet me so quickly.”
“The Queen’s Seal.”
“Precisely.”
Matthias studied her obliquely. “There is another reason for my seeking an introduction tonight, you know.”
She gave him a baffled look. “What is that, my lord?”
“I told you, Society believes me to be hunting for a wife.”
Her face cleared. “Oh, yes. You did mention something along those lines. But no one is likely to conclude that you have fixed your interest on me for that reason.”
“Why not?”
She frowned. “Don’t be dense, Colchester. No one will expect you to be seriously interested in me as a wife. Do not concern yourself, sir. Society will assume exactly what we wish it to assume. You are after my map.”
“If you say so.” Conscious of their audience, Matthias smiled to conceal his exasperation. “I suppose there is no hope of talking you out of this plan?”
“None whatsoever, my lord. Indeed, I am very pleased with the way the thing has begun. Try not to fret. I shall see to it that you are not placed in any danger.”
“If there is no possibility of convincing you to give up your scheme, is there any chance that I can persuade you to let me lead?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know it is somewhat boring and conventional, but I was taught to lead when I waltz with a lady.”
“Oh.” Imogen blushed a vivid shade of pink. “Forgive me, my lord. I am somewhat out of practice. I hired an instructor three years ago. He was French. The French are very skilled at that sort of thing.”
“So I’ve heard.” Out of the corner of his eye Matthias saw Vanneck hovering on the fringes of the crowd. He was watching Imogen with unmistakable interest.
“Philippe said that I had a natural aptitude for assuming the lead on the dance floor.”
“Philippe?”
“Philippe D’Artois, my French dancing instructor,” Imogen explained.
“Ah, yes. The dancing instructor.”
Imogen demurely lowered her lashes. “Philippe said he found it quite thrilling to have the lady take the lead.”
“Indeed?”
She cleared her throat discreetly. “He said it heated the blood in his veins. The French are inclined to be romantic, you know.”
“Indeed.”
Matthias was suddenly consumed by a fierce desire to know a great deal more about Imogen. He needed to find a place where they could have a private conversation, he decided. The gardens, perhaps.
By dint of brute strength, he managed to bring her to a halt at the edge of the floor. “Can I interest you in a breath of fresh air, Miss Waterstone?”
“Thank you, but I do not feel the need of any fresh air.”
“Nonsense.” He wrapped his fingers very firmly around her elbow and propelled her forcibly in the direction of the doors that opened onto the gardens. “It is quite warm in here.”
“Truly, sir, I am not at all overheated.”
I am.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I expect it was the thrill of having you take the lead on the dance floor. You did tell me that it has a tendency to overheat the blood.”
“Oh.” Comprehension dawned on her face. “Yes, indeed. I quite understand. Fresh air is exactly what you require, sir.”
Matthias plowed through the crowd with Imogen in tow. Just before he reached the doors, he was obliged to veer left to avoid an encounter with a cluster of curious onlookers.
It was the sudden change of direction that apparently caused the small disaster. Imogen was unprepared. She collided with a footman carrying a tray of champagne glasses.
There was a sharp exclamation from the footman. The tray slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. Glasses crashed and shattered. Champagne sprayed the gowns of the ladies who stood closest to the scene of the accident.
One of the ladies, Matthias saw, was Theodosia Slott. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. Her mouth parted in shock. She put a hand to her full bosom.
“Colchester.” Theodosia gave a muffled gasp, went quite pale, and slid to the floor in a graceful swoon.
“Bloody hell,” Matthias said.
An uproar ensued. The gentlemen looked nonplussed. They glanced from the fallen Theodosia to Matthias and back again with confused expressions. Several ladies sprang into action. They reached for their vinaigrettes even as they turned their deliciously horrified gazes on Matthias.
“On second thought, Miss Waterstone—” Matthias paused when he saw that Imogen had gone to her knees to help the footman pick up the broken glass. He hauled her effortlessly upright again. “I believe it’s time to leave. This affair is about to become exceedingly dull. Let’s find your aunt and call your carriage.”
“But I’ve only just arrived.” Imogen peered back over her shoulder as Matthias marched her away from the shattered glass and the fallen woman. “Who is that odd lady? I do believe she fainted at the sight of you, sir.”
“My unfortunate reputation sometimes has that effect on people.”
Chapter 5
Matthias leaned into the carriage just before the footman closed the door. He pinned Imogen in the glow of the carriage lamps, his gaze grim with frustration. “I wish to speak with you, Miss Waterstone. Obviously that is not possible tonight.” He cast a brief, irritated glance over his shoulder at Lady Blunt’s crowded front steps, where guests were arriving and departing in a scene of mild chaos. “I shall call on you tomorrow at eleven. Make certain that you are at home.”
Imogen raised her brows at his cool presumption, but she told herself that she must make allowances. It had obviously been a trying evening for him, although for her part she thought things had gone rather well. “I shall look forward to your visit, my lord.”
She gave him an encouraging smile, hoping to bolster his flagging spirits, but the expression in his eyes merely darkened in response. He inclined his head in a brusquely civil farewell. The lamplight iced the streak of silver in his hair.
“I shall bid you both good evening.” He stepped back and turned away. The footman closed the door.
Imogen watched Matthias disappear into the shadows that gathered in the street. Then she glanced at the front door of the large town house. Vanneck emerged onto the front step. His eyes met hers for an instant before the movement of the carriage broke the connection.
Imogen sat very still against the cushions. This was the first glimpse she’d had of Vanneck since the funeral. Three additional years of intemperate living had not been kind. He appeared to have grown more malevolent.
“I must say, nothing is ever dull when Colchester is in the vicinity.” Horatia raised her lorgnette to peer at Imogen. “And as the same can be said of you, my dear, I suspect we are in for a lively time of it.” She did not appear pleased by the prospect.
Imogen drew her thoughts back from the problem of Vanneck. “Who was the lady who fainted at the sight of Colchester?”
“He does have a peculiar effect on certain females, does he not? First Bess, and now Theodosia Slott.”
“Bess’s reaction was understandable, given the circumstances. She took him for a ghost or a vampire. But what of this Theodosia Slott? What is her excuse?”
Horatia gazed out into the crowded street. “It’s an old tale and, as is the case with so many of the old stories concerning Colchester, I have no notion of how much of it is true and how much is fiction.”
“Tell me what you know, Aunt Horatia.”
Horatia glanced at her. “I thought you did not wish to hear gossip about his lordship.”
“I have begun to wonder if perhaps it would be wiser to be more fully informed. It is difficult to know how to respond to a situation when one does not know what is going on.”
“I see.” Horatia settled back with a thoughtful expression. “Theodosia Slott was the reigning belle of her Season. She contracted an excellent marriage to Mr. Harold Slott. His family was in shipping, I believe. Mr. Slott was somewhat elderly, as I recall.”
Imogen grew impatient. “Yes, yes. Do go on. What happened?”
“Nothing all that unusual. Theodosia did her duty by her husband. Gave him an heir. And then she promptly formed a connection with a dashing young man named Jonathan Exelby.”
“Are you saying Theodosia and Exelby were lovers?”
“Yes. Exelby frequented the most notorious gaming hells. One in particular, The Lost Soul, was said to be his favorite haunt. It was very popular with the young bloods of the ton. Still is, for that matter. In any event, one night he encountered Colchester there and the two men got into a violent quarrel. A dawn meeting was arranged.”
Imogen was horrified. “Colchester was in a duel?”
“That is the story.” Horatia made a small, dismissing movement with one hand. “No one will ever confirm it, of course. Dueling is illegal. The parties involved rarely discuss the matter.”
“But he could have been killed.”
“From all accounts, it was Exelby who was killed.”
“I don’t believe it.” Imogen felt her mouth go dry.
Horatia gave a small shrug. “To my knowledge, Exelby was never seen again following the events of that dawn. He simply disappeared. Dead and buried in an unmarked grave, people say. He had no family to raise questions.”
“There must be more to the story.”
“There is, actually.” Horatia warmed to her tale. “Theodosia claims that to add insult to injury, Colchester showed up on her doorstep later that same morning to claim her favors.”
“What?”
“Colchester apparently told her that she had been the subject of the quarrel and, as he had won the duel, he naturally expected to take her lover’s place in her bed. She claims she had him thrown out into the street.”
Imogen was speechless for a s
“I assure you, it was the on-dit of the Season. I recall it well because the scandal even replaced the dreadful story of the Demon Twins of Dunstoke Castle which had been on everyone’s lips that year.”
Imogen was briefly distracted. “Demon Twins?”
“A brother and sister who conspired to burn down a house in the north. It happened shortly before the Season began,” Horatia explained. “Apparently the sister’s aged husband was in his bed at the time. Charred him to a cinder. The Demon Twins were said to have made off with the husband’s hoard of gems.”
“Were the twins ever caught?”
“No. They disappeared along with the fortune. For a time everyone wondered if they would show up in London and attempt to seduce and murder another wealthy old man, but they never appeared. Left for the Continent, no doubt. In any event, as I said, people stopped talking about the Demon Twins after the Colchester affair.”
Imogen frowned. “Colchester would never have gotten involved in such a thing.”
“Well, as he has never bothered to confirm or deny the tale, it stands to this day. And Theodosia still dines out on it. As you can see, she works hard to keep the drama alive.”
Imogen wrinkled her nose. “She certainly does. That was a fine bit of theater she staged tonight. But it is too ridiculous to be true. Colchester would never engage in a duel, let alone kill his opponent and then attempt to seduce the poor man’s lover.”
“You did not know Colchester in those days, my dear.” Horatia paused. “In point of fact, you do not know him very well today either.”
“On the contrary, I am beginning to believe that I am better acquainted with him than with anyone else in Town.”
Horatia was amazed. “What makes you think that?”
“We have so much in common,” Imogen said. “And I can assure you that he is far too sensible to allow himself to be drawn into a silly quarrel over a female such as Theodosia Slott. His nerves would never survive a violent encounter. Furthermore, I cannot for one moment imagine Colchester frequenting sordid gaming hells.”