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out for an heiress. My brother had just died and left Imogen this house and its contents and your, er, promise to him. Imogen was suddenly inspired.”
    “
Inspired
is not quite the word I would have chosen.” Matthias straightened away from the bookcase. He paused as he caught sight of a recent volume of the
Zamarian Review
. He scowled when he noticed the date. “Damnation.”
    “Is something wrong, my lord?”
    “No.” He picked up the copy of the
Review
and flipped through the pages. “This just happens to be the issue in which the editors published two articles on the interpretation of Zamarian inscriptions. One written by me and one by I. A. Stone. The fellow haunts me.”
    “I see.” Horatia busied herself with a funeral urn.
    “For some reason, the editors gave Stone’s article considerable attention even though any dolt can see that he is completely wrongheaded in his conclusions. I shall speak to them about it.”
    “You’re going to speak to the editors about publishing I. A. Stone’s papers?”
    “Why not? I founded that damned journal. I have a responsibility to ensure that only the most scholarly articles are printed in it.”
    “I take it I. A. Stone’s conclusions about Zamarian inscriptions did not agree with your own, my lord?” Horatia asked very dryly.
    “No, they did not. It was especially irritating because,as usual, Stone based his conclusions on the results of my own published researches.” Matthias took a grip on his outrage. He generally regarded the work of other Zamarian scholars with complete disinterest and disdain. He knew better than anyone else that since Rutledge’s disappearance, he had no equal in the field.
    There had been no real challenge to Matthias’s authority on the subject until I. A. Stone had exploded upon the scene eighteen months earlier in the pages of the
Review
.
    To Matthias’s increasing annoyance and total bemusement, I. A. Stone was proving to be the first person in years who was capable of kindling any kind of strong response in him. He did not understand it. He had never even met Stone. Thus far, Matthias knew his new rival only by his writings. Soon, he promised himself, he would track Stone down and have a word with the upstart.
    “My lord?” Horatia said cautiously. “About our little problem?”
    “Forgive me, madam, Stone is a sore point with me.”
    “I can see that, sir.”
    “Ever since I returned to England a few months ago I have been made increasingly aware of his encroaching articles in the
Review
. Members of the Zamarian Society actually take sides now when Stone and I disagree in print.”
    “I can certainly understand your feelings on the subject, sir, given your unquestioned position in the field,” Horatia said diplomatically.
    “Unquestioned position? I. A. Stone questions my position at every opportunity. But that is another issue. It is Imogen and her mad scheme that we are discussing.”
    Horatia searched his face. “Yes, it is.”
    “I suppose it is unlikely that the incident three years ago will make it impossible for her to reenter Society?”
    “Do not pin your hopes on the possibility that she will not receive the proper invitations,” Horatia advised. “I fear Society will find her vastly entertaining. The combinationof my connection to Blanchford, her own respectable inheritance from Selwyn, and her tale of a map that will lead someone to a Zamarian treasure will all combine to captivate the jaded interest of the ton.”
    “She will not be considered marriageable, but she will definitely be entertaining,” Matthias said softly.
    “I fear that sums it up rather nicely.”
    “It is a recipe for disaster.”
    “Yes, my lord. You are my only hope. If you do not find a way to alter her course, Imogen will surely sail straight into the sea of catastrophe.” Horatia paused just long enough to add weight to her next words. “It seems to me that if you truly mean to repay your debt to my brother, you must