Mischief by Amanda Quick Page A

bit of the devil in her.
    “Come, Colchester, tell me what it is that brings you here tonight.” Selena surveyed the room. “Is it true that you have decided to do your duty by your new title? Have you descended upon Society this Season to hunt for a bride?”
    “Is that what the gossips say?”
    “It is the prevailing theory at the moment,” she admitted. “Tell me, do you have your eye on one of the young ladies in this crowd?”
    “And if I do?”
    Selena uttered a laugh that was reminiscent of thechime of crystal on crystal. “If you are truly shopping for a suitable bride, sir, I may be able to assist you.”
    “In what way?”
    “With introductions, of course. You may have heard that I have formed a small salon to amuse myself. We gather in my drawing room twice a week for the purpose of studying ancient Zamar. I invite only young ladies of the finest families to attend. Tell me what you seek in the way of looks, address, age, and inheritance, and I shall select one or two for your consideration.”
    Matthias smiled humorlessly. “You sound as if you were employed in the auction yard at Tattersall’s, Selena.”
    “Selecting a wife is not so very different from choosing a fine horse, is it, my lord?”
    “I wouldn’t know.” Matthias swept a second glass of champagne off a tray and handed it to her. “I’ve never gone through the process. Tell me about your Zamarian salon, Selena. It does not sound quite your style. What possible amusement can you take from entertaining a group of young ladies twice a week?”
    Selena’s eyes glinted above the rim of her glass. “Does it not occur to you that I might simply enjoy instructing others in the mysteries of ancient Zamar?”
    “No,” he said bluntly. “I suspect it is far more likely that you have discovered that the naive young ladies are an excellent source of fresh gossip concerning the highest-ranking families in Society.”
    “I am, of course, crushed by your low opinion.”
    “Don’t take it personally, Selena. I have a low opinion of most of the games played by the ton.”
    “You are hardly in a position to criticize, Colchester. Given that only a few years ago you established a gaming hell for the specific purpose of divesting gentlemen of the ton of their inheritances.” Selena laughed softly. “And to think that you accuse me of playing games, sir. Your notion of entertainment takes away one’s very breath.”
    No man had ever lost his entire inheritance at the gaming tables of The Lost Soul, Matthias reflected. Hehad made certain of it. But he saw no reason to explain that to Selena. She was highly unlikely to believe him, in any event. Certainly no one else in Society believed it. Even after all these years, gossip maintained that he had destroyed any number of fortunes during the years he had owned the hell.
    “I prefer to find my amusements in other ways these days.” Matthias surveyed the crowd, searching for Imogen. She should have arrived by then.
    “Looking for someone in particular?” Selena asked. “Perhaps I should warn you that I noticed Theodosia Slott among the guests tonight.”
    Matthias suppressed a groan and kept his tone entirely devoid of inflection. “Indeed.”
    “Someday you really must tell me what actually happened when you shot her lover at that dawn meeting.”
    “I have no notion of what you’re talking about,” Matthias said smoothly. He would give Imogen another fifteen minutes, he decided. If she had not put in an appearance by then, he would abandon her to her own devices.
    But he had no sooner made that firm resolve than he hastily changed his mind. The thought of Imogen left to her own devices was enough to chill his blood.
    Selena slanted him a curious glance. “So you still refuse to discuss the duel even though it occurred several years ago? How very disappointing. Still, I cannot say that I am surprised. You are notorious for refusing to converse about anything other than ancient