Mischief (22 page)

Imogen leaned toward Matthias and began fanning herself vigorously in order to make it appear to onlookers that her conversation was of an inconsequential nature. She trusted to the noise of the gossiping crowd and the rowdy cries from the pit to ensure that no one nearby overheard.

“Sir, I am delighted that you finally deigned to put in an appearance. It is about time you showed up.”

“I have missed you too,” Matthias murmured. “It seems as though an eon has passed since you had such an elevating effect on my spirits.”

“Matthias, for heaven’s sake, hush.” Imogen blushed furiously and glanced wildly about to make certain that no
one had heard him. “That is not what I wished to discuss with you, and well you know it.”

“I am devastated.” His eyes gleamed. He caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I assure you, our tryst amid the ruins of ancient Zamar has been the only thing on my mind for the past night and day. Indeed, since that magical time, all rational thought has flown.”

She glowered at him. “What on earth is the matter with you, my lord?”

“You have inspired me, my sweet. I am thinking of abandoning my scholarly studies in favor of becoming a romantic poet. How do you think I would look with crimped hair?”

Imogen narrowed her eyes. “You are attempting to avoid the subject, are you not, sir?”

“What subject?”

“The subject of my new scheme to trap Vanneck,” she hissed behind her fan.

“I would prefer to see the subject closed.”

“Yes, I know you would, but I have no intention of putting aside my plans simply because we are engaged.”

Matthias’s brows rose. “You deem our engagement a mere bagatelle, then? I am crushed.”

Another wave of heat went through her. Imogen increased the velocity of the fan. “You know very well that is not what I meant, sir.”

“Have a care with that fan, madam. You are creating a draft. We romantic-poet types are very prone to chills.”

She ignored him. “Matthias, I am very serious about this matter. I want your word that you will assist me in trapping Vanneck.”

“This is not the time to discuss it.”

“But—” A small commotion rose above the general din of the crowd. Imogen broke off and turned to glance out over the audience. “What is it? Has something happened?”

“Perhaps Kean is so far into his cups that he cannot take the stage,” Horatia suggested. She leaned forward
with an expression of great interest and raised her opera glass to her eye.

It was Patricia who spotted the source of the new wave of excitement that was rippling through the crowd. “It’s Mrs. Slott. I believe she has fainted.”

Horatia swung her opera glass toward Theodosia Slott’s box, which was directly opposite Matthias’s. “Yes, indeed. Theodosia appears to have collapsed in her chair. Lady Carlsback is waving a vinaigrette under her nose.”

Imogen lowered her fan to peer at the small group milling about in Theodosia’s box. “Whatever is the matter with that woman?”

Patricia cast an accusing look at Matthias. “Lady Lyndhurst says Mrs. Slott frequently falls into a swoon whenever Matthias appears. She says something dreadful happened in the past and Mrs. Slott has never recovered from the shock.”

“Bloody hell,” Matthias said wearily.

Imogen scowled. “What utter nonsense.” She realized that heads across the way were turning toward the Colchester box. Speculation rumbled through the theater.

She folded her fan with a snap. Determined to make it clear to one and all that Matthias did not face the gossiping tongues of the ton alone, she leaped to her feet. Taking hold of the arm of her spindly little chair, she started to shove it closer to Matthias’s chair.

He glanced at her, saw what she intended, and belatedly started to get to his feet. “Imogen, allow me to deal with your chair.”

“Quite all right.” Imogen gritted her teeth and pushed against the arm. “It seems to be stuck, but I can manage, my lord.”

“Imogen, wait—”

The chair was heavier than it looked. Irritated, Imogen shoved harder. One delicate wooden leg suddenly cracked and gave way.

The small chair toppled over onto the red carpet. Imogen lost her balance and shot forward. She landed in
Matthias’s lap. He caught her easily and grinned as she clutched wildly at his shoulders to steady herself.

Her dolphin-trimmed satin evening turban came free and went sailing over the rail of the box. It fluttered down into the cheap seats far below. A great shout went up from the boisterous young men who inhabited the lower regions of the theater.

“I’ve got it.”

“It’s mine. I saw it first.”

“What, ho, I seem to have netted a dolphin.”

“Hand it over. It’s mine by right of salvage.”

Horatia looked over the side of the box. “I do believe they are fighting over your turban, Imogen.”

Laughter roared through the theater.

Patricia looked as if she were about to break into tears. “I am mortified. Absolutely mortified. I could die right here in this horrid box. How shall I face my friends at Lady Lyndhurst’s salon tomorrow?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Matthias said heartlessly. He stood and settled Imogen on her feet.

“I apologize to all of you,” Imogen muttered as she brushed out her skirts. “I did not mean to cause such a ridiculous scene.”

“No apology is necessary.” Matthias grinned. “I assure you, this is the most entertaining evening I have spent at the theater in years. And since the performance on the stage is unlikely to match this one, I suggest that we all take our leave.”

A
short while later Imogen stood with Patricia amid the crowd that clogged the theater lobby. Matthias had gone outside to hail his carriage, which was one of many in a long row that snaked down the street. Horatia had turned aside to chat with an acquaintance.

Imogen glanced at the silent, sullen Patricia and decided to seize the opportunity. She took a step closer.

“Is there aught amiss, Patricia? I sincerely regret that
unfortunate scene a few minutes ago. However, I must point out that you seemed annoyed with me even before that occurred.”

Patricia’s face turned a dull red. She did not meet Imogen’s eyes. “I have no notion of what you are talking about.”

“Rubbish. I thought you and I were getting along rather well together. You appeared to take pleasure in our shopping expeditions. You seemed delighted with your success in Society. But during the past couple of days you have come very close to giving me what the Polite World calls the cut direct.”

Patricia edged back a step and gazed fixedly at the lobby doors. “I cannot imagine what you mean, Miss Waterstone.”

“So it’s Miss Waterstone again, is it?” Imogen put her hands on her hips and began to tap one toe. “I thought we had agreed that you would call me by my Christian name.”

“Must you tap your toe in that offensive manner?” Patricia asked through set teeth.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Everyone is staring at you.”

“Nonsense.” Imogen glanced around. “No one is watching me.”

“How can they help but stare?” Patricia shot back. “You have the manners of a country hoyden. Look at your unladylike posture. Indeed, it is embarrassing to be seen with you when you stand with your hands in that immodest position and tap your toe in that common way. You lack all ladylike refinement and grace.”

“Oh.” Imogen blushed and quickly took her hands off her hips. “Sorry. I took dancing lessons a few years ago, but other than that I have never bothered to study the niceties of proper ladylike behavior.”

“That,” Patricia said tightly, “is obvious.”

“My parents thought such instruction was unimportant.” Imogen shrugged. “And to be perfectly truthful, I
have had a great many other, more interesting things to learn.”

“Apparently so.” Patricia whirled about to confront Imogen directly. Her eyes glittered with tears of humiliation and anger. “I vow, I do not comprehend what my brother sees in you. I cannot imagine why he has asked you to marry him. You are aware, I assume, that people call you Immodest Imogen?”

“I know. I can explain how that unpleasant name came about.”

“You do not have to explain. I have heard all of the sordid details concerning your past.”

Imogen eyed her closely. “You have?”

“You were discovered in a bedchamber with Lord Vanneck.”

“Who told you that?”

“A friend.” Patricia bit her lip. “Someone I met at Lady Lyndhurst’s salon. Everyone there talks about you. They say that Matthias was obliged to become engaged to you because you compromised yourself with him the other night.”

“Hmm.”

“They say that you have done to him what his dreadful mother did to my poor papa all those years ago. You have trapped him.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Patricia blinked owlishly and took a step back. She seemed to realize that she had gone too far. “I’m sure you know very well, Miss Waterstone. It seems to be no great secret here in Town that my father was forced to marry Matthias’s mother after she deliberately arranged to compromise herself with him.”

Imogen frowned. “And you believe that Matthias has been snared in the same sort of web?”

“I cannot imagine any other explanation for why he would choose you to be his countess,” Patricia whispered. “Everyone at Lady Lyndhurst’s salon says that Matthias could have his choice of the young ladies on the Marriage
Mart this Season. He could have selected a woman with an unblemished reputation. Someone who is not known to all and as sundry as Immodest Imogen. Dear heaven, it is so humiliating.”

“I can see this is all very difficult for you,” Imogen said dryly.

The theater door opened and Matthias strode into the warm lobby. He caught sight of Imogen and started toward her. Patricia suddenly looked very anxious. She cast an uneasy sidelong glance at Imogen.

Matthias frowned at his sister. “Are you feeling ill, Patricia? You look a bit peaked.”

“I’m quite all right,” she muttered. “Please. I just want to go home.”

Imogen smiled blandly. “I fear that Lady Patricia is a bit overwrought from the events of the evening, my lord. She suffers from the tendency toward nervous weakness that runs in your family.”

I
mogen stalked into her study the moment she and Horatia arrived home. She tossed her evening cloak across a chair, stripped off her long kid gloves, and kicked off her shoes. Then she collapsed onto the sofa and glowered at her aunt from beneath lowered brows.

“Tell me everything you know about his parents’ marriage, Aunt Horatia. I cannot deal with a problem if I do not have all the facts.”

“There is not much to tell.” Horatia helped herself to a bit of sherry from the decanter that sat on a small table. “It is very old news. Some thirty-five years old, to be precise. I was a young woman myself at the time.”

“Were you acquainted with Colchester’s mother?”

“I had met Elizabeth Dabney, but we did not move in the same circles.” Horatia sat down near the fire and took a sip of sherry. “Elizabeth was considered a trifle fast, if you must know the truth. She got away with it because she was beautiful and charming and her father was an
extremely wealthy and powerful man. Her parents had indulged her since the day she was born. She got whatever she wished.”

“And she decided that she wanted Matthias’s father?”

“So everyone said.” Horatia’s smile was wry. “But as I always say, it takes two. His name was Thomas and he was a viscount at the time. He had not yet come into the title because his father was still alive. He was just as spoiled as Elizabeth. He was also very arrogant and very handsome. Quite the rake that Season. I’m sure he did not think that he would have to pay a price for dallying with Elizabeth. I doubt that Thomas had ever paid for anything in his young life.”

Imogen scowled. “That brings up an interesting question. Why did he have to pay? Thomas was the heir to an earldom. Surely he could have escaped Elizabeth’s net had he truly wished to do so.”

“The title was bankrupt.” Horatia gazed thoughtfully into the fire. “No one knew it at the time. From all accounts, the old earl was delighted when his son was discovered in a compromising position with Elizabeth. He badly needed her inheritance to replenish the family coffers. And Dabney desperately yearned for a title for his only daughter. It was actually a good match from almost everyone’s point of view.”

“Except that of young Thomas?”

“Yes. But he did not dare defy his father for fear of being cut off entirely. He married Elizabeth. It was not a happy marriage, as you can guess. But then, how many are?”

“My parents were happy,” Imogen said softly.

“True. I fear that you grew up with a very distorted sense of reality, my dear. In any event, there were no more children after Matthias was born. Thomas and Elizabeth lived apart most of the time. For several years Thomas kept a string of mistresses here in Town. Elizabeth contented herself with lavish house parties at the Colchester
country estate. The year she died, Thomas apparently fell in love with a young widow named Charlotte Poole. They were married soon after Elizabeth’s death.”

Imogen rested her arms along the back of the sofa and gazed into the fire. “And Patricia was born.”

“Yes.”

“Patricia told me tonight that everyone is saying that Matthias is doomed to the same fate as his father,” Imogen said quietly.

Horatia glanced at her. “Patricia is a very young lady who has had little experience of the world.”

“I, on the other hand, am a mature woman who knows very well what she is about.”

“Meaning?”

Imogen met Horatia’s eyes. “Meaning that I cannot allow Matthias to marry me if he does not truly love me. I could not bear to live with the knowledge that I had forced him to repeat his father’s mistake.”

A sad comprehension appeared in Horatia’s eyes. “How long have you been in love with Colchester, my dear?”

Imogen smiled ruefully “Since I read his first article in the
Zamarian Review
, I suspect.”

“What a tangle this has all become.”

“Yes.” Imogen took a deep breath. “And as I am the one who created this Gordian knot, it is up to me to unravel it.”