Mischief (19 page)

“No one calls her that in my presence.”

“Matthias, everyone is saying that you felt obliged to announce your engagement because Miss Waterstone compromised herself with you last night.”

“What transpired between Miss Waterstone and myself last night is no one else’s business but our own,” Matthias said very softly.

“I don’t understand.” Patricia looked genuinely baffled. “I thought you would be as shocked as I am by the news that Miss Waterstone has a blemished reputation.”

“As far as I’m concerned, her honor is untarnished and anyone who says otherwise will answer to me. Is that quite clear?”

Patricia took an uneasy step back, but she raised her chin. “Very well, you must do as you see fit.”

“Precisely.” Matthias got to his feet and started around the corner of the desk.

“If you wish to be engaged to a woman of questionable virtue, that is your affair,” Patricia said defiantly. “But you cannot expect me to continue to go about with Miss Waterstone and her aunt. I have my own reputation to consider.”

Anger flashed through Matthias. “As long as you choose to remain under my roof, you will show respect to Miss Waterstone and her aunt.”

“But, Matthias—”

“By the bye, since we seem to be dealing with the subject of suitable associations, I may as well tell you that
I do not want you to become friends with Hugo Bagshaw. Do not encourage him.”

Patricia was stunned. “Mr. Bagshaw is a perfect gentleman. He is entirely above reproach.”

“Hugo Bagshaw hates me. He may very well attempt to use you to take revenge on me for something he believes that I did years ago. Stay away from him, Patricia.”

“But—”

Matthias was already at the door. “You must excuse me. I have an appointment.”

I
mogen was seething. Matthias wondered that she did not set fire to his coat as she fumed beside him in the carriage. He smiled ruefully to himself as he drove the well-matched grays through the stone pillars that marked the entrance to the park.

The paths were already crowded with elegant equipages. Five o’clock was the fashionable hour to see and be seen. Matthias did not enjoy Society, but he knew its ways. He understood, even if Imogen did not, that it was crucial for the two of them to appear together that afternoon. The entire ton would be watching for them.

“I trust you appreciate precisely what your anxious nature has done to my plans,” Imogen said brusquely.

“I regret any inconvenience our engagement has caused you.”

She shot him a fulminating look. “Do you, sir? I wonder. It has occurred to me that last night’s debacle might very well have been deliberately perpetrated by you. A blatant attempt to nip my plans in the bud.”

“What makes you think that?” Matthias inclined his head a bare half inch at an acquaintance in a passing carriage.

“It is very simple. I came to that conclusion when I realized that you had practiced secret Zamarian methods of lovemaking upon my person.”

Matthias nearly dropped the reins. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Do not try to cozen me, my lord. It will not work.” Imogen’s gloved hands clenched fiercely around her folded fan. She stared straight ahead. “I am not a fool. I am well aware that you used certain mysterious techniques designed to throw my senses into complete disarray.”

“I see. And you believe I learned these, uh, exotic techniques in the course of my study of ancient Zamar?”

“Where else? They were certainly not normal methods of lovemaking. I perceived that fact immediately.”

A reluctant fascination took root in Matthias. “Is that so? What makes you so certain?”

She shot him a disgruntled look. “I am not without experience, my lord.”

“Indeed.”

“I have been kissed any number of times and I know that your kisses are not the normal sort.”

“Precisely how do my kisses differ from the others you have experienced?”

“You know very well how they differ, sir.” Imogen’s tone turned distinctly frosty. “They affected my knees so that I could scarcely stand. And they made my pulse race in a most unnatural manner. Furthermore, I am certain that they induced a temporary fever.”

“A fever?” Matthias thought wistfully of the way she had shivered in his arms.

“I felt much too warm.” She scowled ferociously at him. “But the most damning evidence is that your kisses completely destroyed my capacity to think logically. One moment I was feeling perfectly rational, concentrating on my plans to trap Vanneck, and the next, my brain was in chaos.”

Matthias gazed at the tips of his horses’ ears. “You say you have never experienced these same reactions when other men have kissed you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How many men have kissed you, Imogen?”

“That is a personal matter, sir. I would not dream of giving you a number. A lady does not discuss such things.”

“Forgive me. I respect the fact that you are not the type to kiss and tell. But if you’re using Alastair Drake as your only basis of comparison, I feel I must tell you—”

“Mr. Drake is not my only basis of comparison.” Imogen whirled about on the seat. “For your information, my lord, I have been kissed by another man.”

“Have you, indeed?”

“And he was a Frenchman,” she added triumphantly.

“I see.”

“The whole world knows that the French are very skilled in lovemaking.”

“How did you meet this Frenchman?” Matthias asked.

“If you must know, it was Philippe D’Artois, my dancing master.”

“Ah, yes, the dancing master. That does put a slightly different face on the matter. I suppose I shall have to concede that you do have some basis for comparison.”

“I certainly do,” Imogen retorted. “And I know perfectly well that the strong feelings I experienced last night were not the result of ordinary lovemaking methods. Admit it, sir. You used exotic Zamarian techniques to disorder my senses.”

“Imogen—” There was a sharp crack. Matthias broke off to glance at her fan. He saw that she had been gripping it so tightly that she had accidentally snapped the delicate sticks. “I was about to say that there is another explanation for the strong feelings you say you experienced last night.”

“Rubbish. What would that other explanation be?”

“It’s possible that the reason you reacted as you did was that you have developed what Society likes to call a
tendre
for me,” he suggested gently. “In other words, a degree of passion has developed between us.”

“Nonsense.” She suddenly became extremely interested in a passing carriage. “How could there be such a … an intense degree of passion without love?”

“That is an extremely naive thing to say, Imogen.”

Hooves clattered on the path. Vanneck came up alongside the phaeton. Out of the corner of his eye Matthias saw Imogen paste a strained smile on her face.

“Good day to you both,” Vanneck said grimly. He tightened the reins of his prancing bay stallion. The horse flattened its ears as the bit ravaged its mouth. “I understand that congratulations are in order.”

“They are,” Matthias said.

“Thank you, Lord Vanneck,” Imogen murmured stiffly. She began to tap the broken fan against her knee.

Vanneck’s smile was thin. The expression did not reach his eyes, which flicked back and forth between Matthias and Imogen. There was an element of sly, hungry watchfulness in that gaze. He reminded Matthias of a ferret.

“Some are saying that your future bride brings a most interesting dowry, Colchester,” Vanneck observed.

“Miss Waterstone does not need a dowry to make her interesting,” Matthias said. “She is quite riveting all on her own.”

“I have no doubt of that. Until later, sir.” Vanneck nodded brusquely and cantered off down the path.

“Hell’s teeth,” Imogen whispered. “I was so close. He had fallen into my trap. It remained only to shut the door on him.”

Matthias scowled. “Give it up, Imogen. It’s finished.”

“Not necessarily,” she said slowly.

Matthias was suddenly wary of the new expression in her eyes. “Imogen—”

“It has just struck me, Colchester. Mayhap there is a way to salvage something of my initial plan.”

“Impossible. You cannot form a partnership with Vanneck now that you are engaged to me. Such things are not done.”

“It’s true that you have ruined my first scheme.”

“I am sorry, Imogen, but I feel it was for the best.”

“All is not lost,” she said as though she had not heard him. “I have this very moment come up with another plan.”

“Bloody hell.”

“It is true that I am no longer in a position to form a partnership with Vanneck, but in the role of my fiancé, you can certainly do so.”

“What the devil are you talking about now?”

“It is quite simple, my lord.” She gave him a blinding smile. “You will tell Vanneck that you do not wish to risk a large portion of your own funds to finance an expedition. You will, however, allow him to become your partner.
If he can come up with the money to secure his share of the bargain
.”

“Good God.” Matthias was awed in spite of himself.

“Don’t you see? The effect will be the same as I had originally intended. Vanneck will still need to form a consortium to get his hands on the money he needs. And he will still be ruined when the expedition fails.”

Matthias gazed at her in bemused wonder. “Do you ever give up, Imogen?”

“Never, my lord. My parents taught me to persevere.”

“I shall not beat about the bush, my lord.” Light glinted angrily on the lenses of Horatia’s spectacles as she confronted Matthias from the other side of his desk. “I came here today to find out just what sort of game you are playing with my niece.”

Matthias steepled his fingers and gave her a deliberately quizzical smile. “Game?”

“What would you call this announcement of an engagement?”

“I thought you would be pleased, madam. The engagement will put an end to her dangerous scheme. Is that not what you wanted?”

“Do not be so certain that it will end the matter,” Horatia retorted. “You know very well that she is already devising a way to go forward with her plans to ruin Vanneck.”

“Yes, but her latest scheme requires more than just my assistance. It requires my complete cooperation in a false business venture. I do not intend to provide it.”

Horatia frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have no intention of luring Vanneck into a partnership. I doubt that he would consider such an alliance, even if I were willing to offer it. Not even for the sake of the Queen’s Seal. We are natural enemies, Vanneck and I, not allies. Calm yourself. All will be well.”

“Don’t tell me to calm myself. You sound just like Imogen when you say that.”

Matthias shrugged. “The thing ends here, Horatia.”

“Ends? For God’s sake, you have announced a formal engagement, Colchester. You know what that means. Where does that leave Imogen?”

“Engaged.”

She stared at him in mounting fury. “Do not jest with me, sir. We are speaking of a young woman whose reputation has been savaged enough as it is. How do you think she will fare when you call off the engagement?”

“Something tells me that Imogen would survive the end of our engagement quite nicely. She is never without resources, is she? But as it happens, I do not intend to call it off. Nor do I plan to allow her to do so.”

Horatia’s mouth opened and closed. And then it firmed into a straight line. “Are you implying that your intentions are … are—”

“Honorable?”

“Well?” she challenged. “Are they?”

“You needn’t look so stunned. The answer is yes.” Matthias briefly glanced down at the Zamarian scroll that he had been studying when Horatia was shown into the library a few minutes earlier. Then he met Horatia’s eyes. “I do believe they are.”

“You intend to wed Imogen?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

“Sir, in spite of your unfortunate past and your even more unpleasant reputation, you are the Earl of Colchester. Everyone knows you possess a vast income and an impeccable lineage. To be blunt, you can look a good deal higher than a young woman of Imogen’s birth and fortune when you set out to find a wife.”

“You have assured me that through you she is connected to the Marquess of Blanchford.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Horatia snorted. “That connection is extremely remote and well you know it. She is not in line for a single penny of his money. Furthermore, thanks to her eccentric parents, she lacks the social skills one expects in a countess. And on top of everything else, she has been thoroughly compromised, first by Vanneck and now by you. How can you expect me to believe that you are serious?”

“I think she will make me an excellent wife. The only difficulty that I can see lies in convincing her of that fact.”

Horatia stared at him, clearly baffled. “I don’t understand you, sir.”

“Then you must trust me. I give you my oath that I intend to marry Imogen. The engagement is not a charade. At least, not on my part.”

“Is this another one of your famous promises, sir?” Horatia asked with deep suspicion. “The sort you are said to keep at all costs?”

“Yes. It is.” Matthias felt the conviction in his bones.

H
e waited until the library door closed behind Horatia before he got to his feet. He carefully rerolled the scroll and set it aside. Then he walked around the edge of his desk and crossed the room to where the brandy decanter stood on the small inlaid table.

He splashed brandy into a glass and raised it in a mocking toast to the statue of Zamaris. “It won’t be easy, you know. She has no intention of marrying me at the moment. But I have one clear advantage over her. I have very few scruples to hinder me and almost no gentlemanly instincts. Just ask anyone.”

Zamaris looked down on him with the complete understanding that only one male who lives in the shadows, surrounded by ghosts, could offer to another.

Matthias went to stand in front of the fire. He did not
know precisely when the notion of marrying Imogen had formed in his mind. He only knew that he wanted her with a passion that was equaled only by his feelings for lost Zamar.