Mischief (30 page)

“No, I am not.”

“I know that you are convinced that Mr. Bagshaw is looking for a way to avenge himself against you, but I trust you will not make a scene tonight. Patricia would be mortified. I think that she is developing some very tender emotions for him.”

“In that case, I had better move quickly.”

“Now, Matthias, you must not be hasty.”

Matthias’s brows rose. “What would you suggest that I do?”

“I think that you should talk to Mr. Bagshaw in private.”

“Excellent notion. I shall take him aside and warn him to stay away from Patricia.”

“Not that sort of talk. For heaven’s sake, Matthias, warning him off will not do any good.”

“You may be right.” Matthias grew thoughtful. “I do believe he’s becoming more reckless in his attentions to Patricia.”

“The important thing is that Patricia must not be hurt by what is going on here. I think you should tell Mr. Bagshaw the full truth about his father’s death.”

“I doubt that he gives a damn about the truth. He was raised on a pack of lies.”

“I think you could make him confront the truth, Matthias. He must accept it someday or else he will go through life nursing a hatred for you that will eat at his own soul.”

Matthias’s arm tightened around her. His eyes were grim. “What makes you think that I can force young Bagshaw to deal with the truth about his father?”

“Because you have been through a similar situation with your own father,” Imogen said gently. “You of all people understand something of what festers inside him. You know what it is to be rejected by your father.”

“Bagshaw’s father did not reject him. He committed suicide because of his financial problems.”

“I suspect that the result was very much the same for Hugo. Rejection can take many forms, my lord. You and Hugo were both left alone at a very young age to deal with the consequences of your fathers’ actions.”

Matthias said nothing.

Imogen met his eyes. “You found your salvation in the search for Zamar. I fear Hugo will not be so fortunate. You must guide him, Matthias.”

“I have better things to do than try to talk sense into young Bagshaw.”

Imogen caught sight of Patricia and Hugo at the edge of the crowd. She saw the shy, eager expression on Patricia’s face and then she saw Hugo glance across the room
toward Matthias. There was no mistaking the seething anger in the younger man’s eyes.

“No, Matthias,” Imogen said softly. “I do not think that you have better things to do.”

M
atthias lounged, arms folded, in the doorway of the gaming room of The Lost Soul and watched Hugo roll the dice in a round of hazard. A hoarse shout went up as another player claimed the winnings. Hugo clenched his hand. His face was a mask of fury and recklessness. He was losing.

The hour was late and the hell was crowded with a mix of young bloods, dandies, and world-weary rakes. A smoky haze of urgency and unhealthy excitement hung over the tables. The room reeked of sweat, ale, and perfume. Little had changed since he had owned the place, Matthias reflected. Perhaps the nature of gaming hells was immutable.

“Good evening, Matthias. Come to play, or just to pay a visit to some old shades?”

Matthias glanced at the short, round man who had joined him in the doorway. “Hello, Felix. You must be in good spirits tonight. A lively crowd.”

“Indeed.” Felix folded his hands over the ornately carved handle of his cane. His cherubic smile dimpled his plump cheeks and created good-natured creases at the corners of his shrewd eyes. “I shall see a tidy profit off this night’s work.”

Ten years earlier Matthias had hired Felix Glaston to manage The Lost Soul. Felix had an uncanny talent for numbers. He also had a knack for collecting information. The combination of skills had made him extremely valuable to Matthias. Together they had created one of the most notorious and most popular hells in London. Their success had made them both very wealthy.

When Matthias had gathered the funds he needed to finance the first expedition in search of Zamar, he had
sold The Lost Soul to Felix. Glaston had been prospering in the role of owner ever since. He now lived the life of a wealthy merchant.

The two men, from dramatically different social stations, had forged a bond of friendship that still held. A bond that still shocked Society. A gentleman might lose his fortune in a gaming hell, but he would not dream of consorting with the owner of one.

Another shout went up at the table where Hugo stood. Hugo’s face grew more rigid.

“Looks like young Bagshaw will be under the hatches by dawn,” Felix observed.

“Are you going to intervene?”

“Naturally.” Felix chuckled. “I have maintained your wise policy of never allowing a customer to lose his estates or his entire fortune at my tables. It’s been good for business.”

“Does young Bagshaw always play so wildly?”

“No. In truth, he rarely plays at all, from what I hear. And certainly not in this house. You know he still blames The Lost Soul for his father’s death.”

“I am aware of that.”

“Yes, of course, you would know that better than anyone,” Felix murmured. “I comprehend that you have had a busy week, Colchester. My felicitations on your marriage, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“And on surviving yet another duel.”

Matthias smiled grimly. “It was not difficult this time.”

“Vanneck, I understand, did not even fire a shot. Dead when you arrived at Cabot’s Farm, I’m told.”

“Your information is, as always, astonishingly accurate, Felix.”

“I pay enough for it.” Felix made a dismissing motion with his plump, beringed hand. “A bit odd though.”

“What is?”

“Vanneck being at the scene. According to my
sources, he dismissed his staff yesterday afternoon without notice. Apparently he planned to take an extended journey on the Continent.”

“Interesting.”

“I suppose some public-spirited footpad or a highwayman was responsible for removing Vanneck from this mortal plane?”

“I’m not so certain of that.”

Felix glanced at him. “Why do you doubt it?”

“Because when we found him in his curricle, he was still wearing his rings.”

“Curious.”

“Very.”

Felix frowned as Hugo seized the dice. “I suppose I really must see to young Bagshaw. I doubt that he has the stamina or the temperament for this kind of play. I wonder what drives him to such recklessness tonight.”

“I believe that tonight is the anniversary of his father’s suicide.”

“Ah, yes. That would explain it.”

Matthias watched Hugo throw the dice with feverish speed. He could almost hear Imogen whispering in his ear.
You found your salvation in the search for Zamar. I fear Hugo will not be so fortunate
.

Matthias thought of the look he had seen on Patricia’s face as she stood at the buffet table with Hugo. There was no doubt that she had developed a
tendre
for Bagshaw.

One way or another, Hugo had to be sorted out.

Matthias came to a decision. “I shall handle Bagshaw for you tonight, Felix.”

Felix shrugged his well-padded shoulders. “Be my guest.”

Matthias made his way through the crowd to where Hugo stood at the table, poised for another toss of the dice.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like a word with you, Bagshaw,” Matthias said quietly.

Hugo stiffened. “Colchester. What the devil do you want?”

Matthias looked into Hugo’s seething gaze and noted yet another ghost. This particular specter was unlike those he routinely saw in the flames. This apparition was one he occasionally encountered in his shaving mirror.

“I’m told that you and I have something in common,” Matthias said.

“Leave me alone, Colchester. I have nothing to discuss with you.” Hugo made to turn back to the gaming table. Then he paused, his mouth twisting into a taunting smile. “Unless, of course, you’re here to challenge me to a duel. I comprehend that you conduct your dawn appointments in a somewhat unusual manner.”

A sharp hush fell across the table. The other players watched Matthias and Hugo with glittering interest.

“You will come with me,” Matthias said very softly to Hugo. “Or we will have this conversation right here in front of your companions.”

Hugo gave him a derisive smile. “I’ll wager that this concerns my attentions to your sister. Well, well, well. I wondered when you’d notice that she and I have become very good friends.”

“It’s about your father.”

“
My father?
” Hugo dropped the dice. They bounced across the green felt. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Matthias took advantage of Hugo’s shock to seize hold of his arm. He led the younger man up out of the hot, smoky hell and into the clear, crisp night, where the hired carriage waited.

“M
atthias is going to challenge poor Hugo,” Patricia wailed as the Colchester carriage made its way through the clogged streets. “How could he do such a thing? It is so very unfair. Hugo will not stand a chance against him. Matthias will kill him.”

“Rubbish,” Horatia said firmly. “I’m sure Colchester has no intention of shooting anyone, least of all young Mr. Bagshaw.”

“Quite right, Aunt Horatia.” Imogen leaned forward in the seat. “Patricia, listen to me. I have told you several times already that Matthias is not going to challenge Mr. Bagshaw. He is only going to speak to him.”

“Threaten him, more likely.” Tears glistened in Patricia’s eyes. “He is going to tell Hugo that he must never dance with me or speak to me again.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“How can you know what Colchester will do? He does not approve of Hugo. He has warned me to stay away from him.”

“The friendship that has sprung up between you and Mr. Bagshaw worries Colchester because he is uncertain of Mr. Bagshaw’s motives,” Horatia said. “And not without some reason, if I may say so. Your brother is right to be concerned.”

“Hugo cares for me,” Patricia said. “That is his only motive. And he is perfectly respectable. Matthias has no right to raise objections.”

Imogen rolled her eyes. “I have explained to you that Hugo blames Matthias for what happened to his father several years ago. Matthias is going to attempt to tell Hugo the truth tonight.”

“What if Hugo does not believe him?” Patricia whispered. “They will quarrel. You know how men are. One of them will challenge the other and there will be a duel.”

“There will be no duel,” Imogen announced. “I will not allow it.”

Patricia seemed not to have heard her. “It is the curse.”

“Curse?” Horatia frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“The Rutledge Curse,” Patricia said. “We have been studying it in Lady Lyndhurst’s salon.”

“The Rutledge Curse is utter nonsense,” Imogen said very firmly. “There is no curse involved in this situation.”

Patricia turned her head to look at her. “I fear that you are wrong, Imogen.”

M
atthias studied Hugo’s angry, defiant face in the flickering light of the carriage lamp. He tried to think where to begin a conversation that he privately considered pointless.

“I have discovered over the years that it is often more satisfying to blame someone for an injustice than it is to accept the truth of the matter,” he said.

Hugo’s mouth thinned. “If you are going to tell me that you had nothing to do with my father’s death, save your breath. I will not believe a word you say.”

“Nevertheless, as we are here together, I may as well say the words. Now then, here are the facts surrounding your father’s death. You may do with them what you will. He did not lose his fortune in a game of cards. He lost it in a poor business investment. He was one of many.”

“That is a lie. My mother told me the truth. My father played cards at The Lost Soul on the night he died. You quarreled with him. Do not deny it.”

“I don’t deny it.”

“It was after that game that he went home and put a bullet in his brain.”

Matthias looked at him. “Your father was drinking heavily that night. He sat down at a table with several other gentlemen. He wanted to enter the game. I asked him to leave the club because I knew that he was too deep in his cups to even hold his damned cards.”

“That is not true.”

“It is true. I also knew that he had been informed of a serious setback in his finances that very day. In addition to being drunk, his spirits were very depressed. He had no business making any wagers that night.”

“You took advantage of his condition,” Hugo said furiously. “He told others.”

“Your father was enraged with me when he left the club because he had planned to recoup his fortunes at my tables. But if he had played, you may be assured he would have lost even more than he’d already forfeited in the shipping venture.”

“I do not believe you.”

“I know.” Matthias shrugged. “I told my wife that you would not accept my word on the matter. But she insisted that I try to explain what had happened.”

“Why?”

“She worries that Patricia will be hurt if you attempt to use her to avenge yourself against me.”

Hugo’s hand clenched around his walking stick. He stared out the window. “I have no intention of hurting Lady Patricia.”

“I am, of course, pleased to learn that.” Matthias flexed his fingers absently. “Because if anything were to happen to my sister, I would be obliged to take action. I am responsible for her.”

Hugo turned his head swiftly to stare at Matthias. “Are you warning me to stay away from Lady Patricia?”

“No. I confess that I had intended to do just that, but Lady Colchester advised against it. I am, however, warning you not to use my sister in any scheme of vengeance that you may have concocted. If you feel that you must blame me for your father’s suicide, then come after me directly. Deal with me man to man. Do not hide behind a lady’s skirts.”

Hugo flushed. “I am not hiding behind Patricia’s skirts.”

Matthias smiled fleetingly. “Then there is nothing more for us to discuss. I shall inform my wife that we had this pleasant little chat and perhaps she will give me some peace.”

“Do not tell me that you did this just to please your
lady wife. That does not sound at all like you, Colchester.”