Mischief by Amanda Quick Page B

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.”
    “No?”
    “Of course not,” Imogen said. “He is a man of delicate sensibilities and refined taste. He is simply not the sort to seek his entertainments in gaming hells.”
    “My dear, Colchester owned the hell in question.”
    I mogen would not escape so easily the next time, Matthias promised himself as he alighted from his carriage. He went up the steps of his town house with a sense of resolve. He would get the answers to his questions tomorrow when he called upon her. One way or another, he intended to find out exactly what had happened between Vanneck and Imogen three years ago. At the moment he was inclined to believe that Society’s version was not entirely accurate. It seldom was.
    Ufton opened the door with perfect timing. His entirely bald head gleamed in the light of the wall sconces. He regarded Matthias with his customary air of unflappable composure. “I trust you had a pleasant evening, sir.”
    Matthias stripped off his gloves and tossed them to the butler. “I had an interesting evening.”
    “Indeed. I fear it is about to become even more so, my lord.”
    Matthias paused halfway across the hall and turned to glance back over his shoulder. He and Ufton had known each other a very long time. “What the devil does that mean?”
    “You have guests, my lord.”
    “At this hour? Who is it? Felix? Plummer?”
    “Your, uh, sister, my lord. And her companion.”
    “If this is your notion of a joke, Ufton, allow me to inform you that you are growing senile.”
    Ufton drew himself up and contrived to appear mortally offended. “I assure you, sir, I do not jest. Indeed, I never jest. You should know that. You have told me often enough that I have absolutely no sense of humor.”
    “Damnation, man, I haven’t got a sister—” Matthias broke off abruptly. He stared at Ufton. “Bloody hell. You cannot mean my half sister?”
    “Lady Patricia Marshall, sir.” Ufton’s eyes held a certain sympathy. “And her companion, a Miss Grice.” Reaching around Matthias, he silently opened the library door.
    Matthias went cold as he gazed into the firelit chamber. The library was his sanctum sanctorum, his retreat, his lair. No one should be in this room without his personal invitation.
    Many found the chamber strange and oppressive with its Zamarian decoration and exotic hues. Others thought it fascinating, although some said it made them uneasy. Matthias was not concerned with the opinions of his visitors. The library had been created to remind him of ancient Zamar.
    Every time he walked into this room, he strode into another world, a place where the long-lost past enveloped him and locked out the present and the future. There, among the ghosts of an ancient people, he could occasionally forget the ghosts of his own past. He spent hours at a time in this chamber, engaged in the task of unraveling the clues left by those who had