Mischief

  “Bit of a muddle here, Colchester,” Jeremy called. “Changes everything.”

  “Damnation.” Matthias turned briefly back to Imogen. “Wait for me in the carriage.” He strode off without bothering to see if she had obeyed him.

  The gray geldings harnessed to the curricle continued to crop grass as the small crowd gathered. Matthias saw that the horses’ reins had been secured to a fallen branch. Jeremy’s face was troubled. Even Fairfax looked more sober than usual.

  “Where is Vanneck?” Matthias asked as he reached the curricle.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Inside.”

  “What the devil is he doing? Writing his will?”

  “Not exactly,” Fairfax said.

  Matthias peered into the cab and saw the slumped figure sprawled against the seat. Vanneck’s head had fallen to one side. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly at nothing. He wore a cloak but he no longer needed any protection against the cold. A large quantity of blood stained the front of his shirt.

  “One would hope,” Matthias said, “that he had already tended to the matter of his will.”

  “But who shot him?” Imogen demanded as the Colchester carriage set off from Cabot’s Farm. She prided herself on possessing sturdy nerves, but she was obliged to concede that the dizzying course of events and emotions that she had endured during the past few hours had left her feeling shaken.

  “How the devil should I know?” Matthias lounged in the corner of the seat and contemplated Imogen with a dark, brooding expression. “Given his unpleasant nature, I suspect that there are any number of candidates. I would send a bouquet to the appropriate party if I knew his identity.”

  “Whoever it was must have known about the duel. The killer went to the trouble of driving Vanneck’s curricle all the way out here to Cabot’s Farm and left the body for you to discover.”

  “The list of people who knew about the duel no doubt includes half the ton.”

  “But why would someone leave Vanneck’s body at the scene of his dawn appointment?”

  Matthias shrugged. “Fairfax no doubt had the right of it. He suspects that Vanneck was attacked by a highwayman shortly after he arrived at Cabot’s Farm. Jeremy agrees with him. It’s as sound a speculation as any.”

  “A highwayman. I suppose that is a possibility.”

  “A distinct possibility.”

  Imogen considered that. “It all seems very odd.”

  “Indeed. Almost as odd as learning that one’s bride has a penchant for disguising herself as a stable lad.”

  She blinked. “Really, Matthias, that is a very small matter compared to Vanneck’s murder.”

  “Not to me.”

  “I fail to see how you can concern yourself with such a trivial incident, when we are faced with something so extremely serious and perplexing.”

  “You’d be astonished at how I can focus on the trivial.” Matthias’s voice was laced with silky menace. “I have a talent for it.”

  Sympathy welled up in Imogen. “I realize that you have been through a great deal this morning, sir. We both have. I must confess that even my nerves are somewhat disordered. It is perfectly understandable that you, with your more anxious temperament, are quite overset by all that’s happened. Nevertheless—”

  “Overset?” Matthias’s gloved hand flexed in a subtle movement that resembled the motion of a hunting cat’s paw. “That does not begin to describe my present mood, madam. In case it has escaped your notice, I am bloody furious.”

  Imogen blinked. “Furious?”

  “You seem to have no notion of the damage that could have been done. Fortunately only my coachman realizes that you are not a stable lad and, as he wishes to retain his post, he will keep his mouth shut. But it was due to the devil’s own luck that Fairfax and Jeremy Garfield were so astounded by the sight of Vanneck’s body that they failed to notice that you were dressed for a masquerade.”

  “Matthias, please—”

  “It was even more fortunate that Vanneck was already dead and that his seconds did not arrive on the scene. I can only imagine the gossip, had you been discovered.”

  Realization finally settled on Imogen. “So that is the problem.”

  He gave her a scathing look. “You do not consider your eagerness to play ducks and drakes with your reputation a problem?”

  Imogen turned to gaze out the window. She tried and failed to suppress the pain his words caused. “Sir, you knew when you married me that I was not concerned with social consequence or position. Furthermore, I did not believe that you cared about Society’s opinion either.”

  “Damnation, Imogen, this goes too far.”

  Hurt and angry, she whirled back around to face him. “If you truly desired a wife who would conform to the ton’s notion of a proper countess, you should not have wed Immodest Imogen.”

  “Bloody hell, madam. The only wife I want is you.” Matthias moved so quickly that Imogen did not even realize his intent until his hand closed around her wrist. He tugged her off the seat and settled her against his chest.

  “Matthias.”

  His arms closed around her with the force of iron bonds. “What you did this morning did far more to overset my nerves than the prospect of meeting Vanneck. Do you comprehend me?”

  “All you seem to care about is my reputation, my lord.”

  “Do you think it so odd that a man might object to having his wife attend a duel?”

  “I knew it.” Imogen felt tears form in her eyes. “You should have married a more suitable lady. We are doomed, you and I, and it is all your fault, sir. I tried to warn you.”

  “Doomed?”

  “Oh, do stop interrupting, Colchester. I have had quite enough of your pithy little lectures.” She fumbled in the pockets of the unfamiliar trousers, searching unsuccessfully for a handkerchief. “You have chained yourself for life to a female who will cause you nothing but scandal and humiliation.”

  He yanked a square of white linen from one of his own pockets and thrust it into her hands. “It is not scandal and humiliation that I fear.”

  “Yes, it is. You have just said so. You told me that we had passion and Zamar in common, but that is obviously not enough.” Imogen blew into the handkerchief. “Not nearly enough.”

  “Imogen, you don’t understand.”

  “I am well aware that I must take some of the blame for this disaster. I ought to have had the courage and the common sense to refuse your offer. But I allowed my heart to rule my head, and now I must pay the price.”

  Matthias’s eyes hardened. “So you regret our marriage, then?”

  “As I said, my lord, we are doomed. As doomed as ancient Zamar.”

  “Enough.” Matthias seized her arms. “I lied when I said that I feared for your reputation.”

  She looked up warily. “What do you mean?”

  His jaw could have been hewn from stone. “Listen to me, Imogen, for I am going to explain this once and once only. I was forced to challenge Vanneck after what he did to you. I had no choice. But in truth, I believed that he would be too much of a coward to show this morning. I fully expected to be able to return to you with the news that there had been no duel.”

  She frowned. “I see.”

  “I thought myself quite clever, if you must know. I had anticipated that Vanneck would have been forced to leave London because of the day’s events. He would have been ruined in Society, just as you had originally intended. And the whole thing would have been accomplished with no risk to your person.”

  “Good heavens,” Imogen said, awed. “That was indeed very clever of you, Matthias.”

  “But when I saw Vanneck’s curricle, I assumed my scheme was in a shambles. I knew I would have to proceed with the duel. And then I realized that you were present in the guise of a stable lad. I faced both death and the prospect of a great scandal and, well, I fear you were right. It was all too much for my delicate nerves. I lost my temper.”

  “Death and scandal.” She sof
tened at once. “Oh, Matthias, I do understand. I should have realized how much you had on your mind.” She managed a wan smile. “I must confess, I have been more than a little anxious myself for the past day or so.”

  Matthias touched her cheek “If Vanneck did kill Lucy, she has been avenged. It’s over, Imogen.”

  “Yes. It is, isn’t it?” The realization seemed strange, almost unreal. She had lived with the desire to avenge Lucy for so long that it was difficult to believe that vengeance, in the form of a highwayman, had finally been delivered. “I never intended that you risk your life to help me punish Vanneck, however.”

  “I know.” Matthias put his arm around her and drew her against him.

  “I wanted to protect you.”

  “I am quite safe, my dear.”

  “But it was a very near thing, my lord.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes, it was,” she insisted. “For all we know, Vanneck intended to show up for his dawn appointment. His curricle was there at Cabot’s Farm, after all. He must have meant to—”

  “Hush.” Matthias brushed his mouth against hers. “We will never know what he intended and it no longer matters. As I said, it’s over.”

  Imogen was about to argue the point, but at that moment the carriage rumbled to a halt in front of the town house. “We’re home.”

  “With any luck, the household will still be asleep and we can go quietly back to bed,” Matthias said. “I for one could use a nap to restore my rattled nerves.”

  “Perhaps a cup of tea would help calm you.” Imogen glanced out the carriage window and saw the door open at the top of the steps. Ufton appeared. “Oh, dear.”

  Ufton was not alone. Two footmen, the cook, the housekeeper, and a maid crowded close behind him. They all wore expressions of anxious foreboding as they waited for the occupants of the carriage to descend.

  “Hell’s teeth,” Matthias said as one of the footmen raced down the steps to see to the carriage door. “The whole bloody lot of them are awake.”

  Patricia appeared amid the cluster of servants. Imogen saw the look of fearful anticipation on her face as she waited for the carriage door to open.

  “Your sister is obviously very anxious about your welfare, my lord,” Imogen said with warm satisfaction. “I knew she would be.”

  “More likely she’s anxious about the future of her quarterly allowance and the roof over her head. She no doubt feared that she would be forced to move back into her uncle’s house if I cocked up my toes at Cabot’s Farm this morning.”

  Imogen scowled at him. “Now, Matthias, that is not fair. You are her brother and she was naturally concerned.”

  Matthias gave her a derisive glance over his shoulder as he got out of the carriage.

  “Matthias.” Patricia started down the steps. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right. Don’t I appear to be all right?”

  “Well, yes.” Patricia came to an awkward halt. Her eyes flew from Matthias to Imogen, who was still seated inside the carriage. She bit her lip and turned back to her brother. “I … I heard the rumors. I was very concerned.”

  “Were you?” Matthias asked politely.

  Patricia’s face threatened to crumple.

  Imogen smiled reassuringly through the carriage window. “I’m sure that if my aunt were here, she would say that it was quite correct under the circumstances to give your brother a hug, Patricia. He won’t mind a small display of sisterly affection, even though the servants are watching. Will you, Matthias?”

  “What the devil are you talking about? Umph.” Matthias broke off abruptly as Patricia put her arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze.

  “I am very glad you did not get yourself killed, sir.” Patricia’s words were muffled by Matthias’s coat. She released him before he could say anything. She blinked several times in an embarrassed fashion.

  For his part, Matthias appeared thoroughly disconcerted. But he pulled himself together with his customary aplomb and glowered at the assembled household. “Haven’t you all got work to do?”

  “Of course, my lord,” Ufton murmured. “But first, on behalf of the staff, may I say that we are all extremely pleased to see you in such, er …”

  “Such excellent health?” Matthias supplied very dryly. “Thank you. But I fail to see what all the fuss is about. Surely a man may take his new bride for an early morning drive without causing such dire concern among those in his employ.”

  Ufton cleared his throat. “Yes, my lord. We had not realized that Lady Colchester had accompanied you.”

  “Of course I accompanied him, Ufton,” Imogen said as Matthias swung her down out of the carriage. “I am an early riser.”

  Ufton and the staff gazed, astonished, at the bizarre sight of their mistress garbed as a stable lad.

  Imogen beamed at the small crowd gathered on the steps. “I vow, these brisk morning drives certainly whet the appetite. Is breakfast ready?”

  Chapter 13

  “There is an amusing rumor making the rounds today, Colchester.” Alastair Drake dropped lightly into the chair across from the one Matthias occupied.

  It would have to be Drake who brought the first wave of gossip, Matthias thought. Alastair was a member of the Zamarian Society, but until recently Matthias had dismissed him as one of the many dilettantes who dabbled in the lore of ancient Zamar purely for reasons of fashion.

  The discovery of Alastair’s past connection to Imogen, however, had altered Matthias’s attitude toward him from one of complete disinterest to one of total disgust. That in and of itself did not mean much. Matthias harbored a deep disgust toward most of those who thrived on the cruel and ruthless games played among the ton.

  “I rarely listen to gossip.” Matthias did not look up from the Morning Post. “I find that it is both inaccurate and boring.”

  It was early by Town standards, barely eleven o’clock. The club was still quiet. Until Alastair had arrived, the only sounds had been the occasional clink of silver and china as coffee and tea were served to the few hardy individuals abroad at this hour. Most of the gentlemen of the club had not made it home from a night of whoring, gaming, and drinking until close to dawn. They were still sleeping off the sore heads brought on by overindulgence. Others were opening their eyes to vague memories of a fortune lost at cards.

  “Actually, there are two rumors floating on the Thames this morning,” Alastair continued. “The first is that you married Miss Waterstone by special license late yesterday.”

  “That is no rumor.” Matthias glanced up briefly. “There is an announcement in the Morning Post.”

  “I see.” Alastair’s gaze was unreadable. “My congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Matthias went back to his paper.

  “The second rumor is almost as amazing as the first.”

  Matthias did not inquire about the second rumor. He knew Alastair would be unable to resist telling him.

  “Word has it that Vanneck had a dawn appointment today,” Alastair said.

  “Indeed.” Matthias turned the page. He could only hope that Imogen’s name was not linked to the thing.

  “It is said that Vanneck kept the appointment.”

  “Astonishing.”

  “Perhaps, but what is even more amazing is that the duel was conducted before any of the seconds arrived. Most unusual.” Alastair paused. “Apparently Vanneck did not survive the affair.”

  Bloody hell, Matthias thought. So that was the direction in which the gossip flowed. At least no mention had been made of Imogen’s presence. “That sort of thing can happen in the course of a duel.”

  “Yes, indeed. Especially when there are no witnesses to assure that matters are conducted according to the rules. They say poor Vanneck was shot dead before he even got out of his curricle. His opponent apparently wished to take no chances on the outcome.”

  Matthias accepted the inevitable conclusions with something close to relief. He had been so concerned w
ith Imogen’s reputation that he had forgotten about his own. Cold-blooded Colchester had struck again, so far as the ton was concerned.

  The rumors that he had shot Vanneck in cold blood would no doubt be served up as scandal broth for a few days, but they would soon fade. There was no evidence to support them, and no one was likely to be sufficiently concerned with Vanneck’s death to keep the tales alive for long. They would go the way of all the other Coldblooded Colchester stories. Matthias had survived such gossip in the past. He would do so again. The important thing was that Imogen not be made to endure more malicious talk. He was her husband now. He had the right and the duty to protect her.

  Alastair waited for a moment, his gaze greedy with speculation. Eventually he sighed and got to his feet. “I can see that you are not interested in my news, Colchester, so I shall leave you to your morning paper. Kindly give my regards to the new Lady Colchester.”

  “I shall convey your felicitations, Drake.” Matthias turned another page and mentally consigned Alastair’s good wishes to Hades.

  He had no intention of mentioning Drake to Imogen. He was still uncertain of her feelings for Alastair. She did not show any signs of carrying a torch, but there was no point courting trouble.

  Matthias did not refold his newspaper until Alastair left the coffee room. When he sensed that he was alone again in front of the fire, he tossed the paper onto a side table. He propped his elbows on the arms of his chair, linked his fingers, and looked deep into the dancing flames.

  Imogen had given him a promise of love, but Matthias knew that he could not depend upon it too heavily. After all, he had more or less blackmailed her into marriage at a moment when she had been terrified for his life. He had been out in the world for a long time. He knew very well that intense emotions had a way of encouraging people to make all sorts of wild, reckless declarations. If, or perhaps he should say, when Imogen discovered the truth about him, she might turn against him.

  He gazed into the depths of the fire and saw the old ghosts grinning at him with their skeletal mouths. They knew just how precarious his newfound happiness was, how easily it could be destroyed. And when it all came crashing down around him, when he was forced to retreat back into the shadows, they would be waiting for him.