Authors: Victoria Alexander

My Wicked Little Lies (16 page)

BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies

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“Then it seems to me, as Lord W has not been in this house since your marriage, while he will see the bills for the refurbishment, it will scarcely have a lasting impact. However—”

“However, if I am wearing my purchases, it will certainly remind him of the error of his ways every time he sees something new. And remind him as well of what he has that he does not wish to lose.” Evelyn grinned. “That is brilliant, Celeste.”

“Just another one of my duties.” Her friend returned her grin. “While I was out, I made an appointment for later today with your favorite dressmaker. She has the latest patterns from Paris and is most eager to get started.” Celeste shrugged. “I might have mentioned that you wished to spare no expense.”

“Excellent.” Evelyn laughed. “Still, this house does need work, but one room at a time is a good idea.” She moved back to the table, placed the samples in her hand with the others, then studied them all. “I would hate to inflict the result of rash decisions upon you. After all, you are the one who lives here.”

A brief knock sounded. Celeste moved to the door and pulled it open.

“There was a delivery for Lady Waterston.” Hendricks strode into the room bearing a large bouquet of red roses in a vase. Relief washed through Evelyn. “I took the liberty of putting these in water for you.” He set the vase on a table, and presented a card with a flourish. “My lady.”

“Thank you, Hendricks.” Evelyn took the card, waited until the butler had left the room, then turned to her friend with a satisfied smile. “I had begun to think my husband had decided not to pursue my forgiveness.”

“Obviously you were wrong.”

“Thank goodness,” she said with a sigh. “I was starting to wonder ... never mind. There are times when one is grateful to be wrong.”

Celeste moved to the flowers and inhaled. “There is nothing like the smell of roses. And two dozen will fill the room with this delicious scent in no time.”

“I have always been fond of red roses. But of course, he knows that.” She opened the envelope, pulled out the card, and read the sparsely worded note. Her heart sank.

“Well?” Impatience sounded in Celeste’s voice. “Is he appropriately apologetic? Does he declare his undying love? Is he begging you to return home?”

“Not exactly,” Evelyn said slowly, her gaze still on the well-remembered handwriting on the card in her hand. “These aren’t from Adrian.”

“Then who?”

She looked up and met her friend’s gaze. “They’re from Sir.”

Chapter 14

C
eleste’s eyes widened. “Sir? Are you certain?”

“Of course I’m certain,” Evelyn snapped. Disappointment sharpened her voice. “My apologies. I didn’t expect this.” She drew a calming breath. “Aside from the fact that it’s signed
Sir
, I would recognize his writing anywhere. He favors his left hand, you know.” Evelyn studied the note.

“You said he was no longer with the department.”

“Apparently he has returned,” she murmured. Good Lord, she never imagined she’d read a note from Sir again. At once, she was thrust back to the days before Adrian when a note from Sir would stir excitement within her and more than a little curiosity. Even, on occasion, a touch of desire, a measure of longing for someone she would never meet, never know.

“Well,” Celeste said. “Are you going to tell me what it says or shall I snatch it out of your hand and read it myself?”

“It’s brief and is in the manner of an introduction or a reintroduction, I suppose.” She read aloud, “‘
My dear Eve, I have returned to my previous position to take charge of the current situation. You will receive your instructions from me from this point forward.
’ ” She glanced up. “There’s little more than that.”

Celeste’s eye’s narrowed. “But there is more, isn’t there?”

She nodded and continued to read. “‘
I must confess, I have missed you and look forward to renewing our acquaintance
.’ ”

“And?”

“And it’s signed: ‘
Yours with great affection, Sir
.’ ” She blew a long breath. “Oh, this is just perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“The last thing I need right now, the last thing I want, now or ever, is Sir back in my life.” She paced the room.

Celeste watched her carefully. “You were rather taken with him.”

“Of course I was taken with him. What living, breathing woman wouldn’t be taken with him? He was mysterious and exciting and courageous. In my mind, he could be anything I wished him to be. A great hero.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “A great lover.”

“I see.”

“No, dear, you don’t.” She wrapped her arms around herself and continued to pace, trying to find the right words. “I was taken with him in the way in which one is taken with the swashbuckling hero of a romantic novel. Like d’Artagnan or Sir Lancelot or Edmond Dantes or Robin Hood. One can dream about him all one wishes, but he has no more substance than a fictional character.” She met the other woman’s gaze. “He’s not there to take you in his arms. To tell you all will be well. To kiss you under the mistletoe in front of his entire family. To laugh with you and cry with you and make certain you know, even if he never says the words, that he will hold your hand until the moment you breathe your last. This”—she held out Sir’s note—“is nothing more than a game. Great affection—hah! I don’t want his great affection. I want ...”

“You want your husband,” Celeste said simply.

“Yes, I do.” She paused. “The beast.”

Celeste stared. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

“It’s not very fashionable, is it?” She managed a wan smile. “Did you doubt it?”

“
Doubt
is not the right word exactly.” Celeste thought for a moment. “He came into your life at precisely the right time, when you needed someone solid and respectable and secure. It did seem that he was somewhat, oh, convenient.”

“He was in many ways. But there is so much more to it than that.” Her mind wandered back to the days when she had first met Adrian. “The first time I met him, the first time we danced, it was as if we had known each other forever. As if he was the one I had been waiting for my entire life. Halves of a whole, as it were. Nothing in my life has ever seemed so right, so destined if you will, as being with him.”

“Oh my.” Celeste shook her head. “I must say, I find I am quite jealous.”

Evelyn cast her a wry smile. “You, too?”

“One could argue ...” Celeste chose her words with care. “That great love can lead a man to great stupidity.”

“I have never doubted his feelings for me. How could he doubt mine?”

“Men are idiots,” Celeste said firmly. “One never knows what they are really thinking if indeed they are thinking at all. They claim to be rational, sensible creatures and yet they will jump to all sorts of irrational conclusions.”

“Why hasn’t he sent me a note? Why hasn’t he asked me to come home?”

“You’ve barely been gone a full day and you are well aware of his schedule. He’s hardly had time to miss you.”

“Nonetheless”—she waved at the roses—“these should be from my husband. Not from a ... a work of fiction.”

“Hopefully, with Sir back, this business with the department will be at an end quickly.”

“One can hope.” Evelyn glanced at the card in her hand. “You know, toward the end, these notes between Sir and I became quite flirtatious.”

“It does seem bad timing that he has entered your life again now. Given the situation with Lord W.” Celeste studied her cautiously. “Do you fear you will be tempted?”

“Tempted? By a man I have never met in person nor ever expect to meet?” She shook her head. “No. In my last note to him I said he was a road not taken. I shall always feel a certain curiosity about him, but I have no regrets as to the path I have chosen. There is only one man I want in my life. And if Sir were to come to my door right this very moment, tall and dashing and handsome and everything I ever thought he might be, that is exactly what I would tell him.”

“Tall and dashing and handsome?” Celeste grinned. “Then I would be grateful if you passed him on to me.”

Evelyn laughed. “Agreed. And you may consider these roses yours as well. I want nothing to do with them. Now.” She set her jaw firmly. “Apparently, I have an appointment with a woman who is more than willing to assist me in unnecessary extravagances and frivolous indulgences. At an outrageous price.” She cast her friend a wicked smile. “I am quite looking forward to it.”

Celeste laughed.

“Oh, and while I’m gone, I would be most appreciative if you could recall the details of the bodily harm you have inflicted on men in the past.” Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “That just might be a good thing to know.”

“You have to apologize,” Max said firmly.

“I have.” A cool note sounded in Adrian’s voice. The two men sat in a secluded corner in the dim recesses of Adrian’s club, a far better place to meet than at the Mayfair house. The old friends had once spent a great deal of time here and no one would comment, or even notice, Sir Maxwell Osgood and Lord Waterston engaged in quiet conversation late in the afternoon.

“Not well apparently. Your wife has moved out.”

“I do not intend to allow that to continue for long. It is nothing more than a temporary state of affairs.” Not temporary enough, however. Evie had barely been gone a day and already he missed hearing her voice, her laughter, having her beside him in his bed. He found it difficult to sleep if she was not there. Although her absence was not the only thing interfering with his sleep. This scheme he had devised, and all the ways it could go horribly wrong, preyed on his mind. Plus, there was the fact that, depending upon the strictness of one’s own moral standards, his plot could be considered the tiniest bit wrong. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s my job, remember? I know all sorts of interesting things.” Max raised his glass. “And any number of things that are quite dull.”

“All-knowing, all-powerful,” Adrian said under his breath.

“You know better than anyone that’s not true.” He chuckled. “Although I do like to maintain certain illusions.”

“Anything new on the file?”

“Since yesterday? Come now. Something like this takes time.” He paused. “Our man at Fenwick’s says the file simply appeared behind the counter. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. I daresay, anyone could have put it there.”

“So until there is a new development, we are at a standstill?”

“Frustrating to be sure, but it is the nature of the game.”

“Always has been.” Adrian sipped his whiskey.

“Regardless, I hate waiting for someone else to make the next move.” Max studied him over the rim of his glass. “Speaking of the next move, what is yours? Or should I say Sir’s?”

“Sir sent Eve roses and a note.”

“Did he?” Max nodded in a thoughtful manner. “And what about Adrian? Did he send flowers to his wife?”

Adrian stared.

“A token of his affection perhaps?” Max’s brow furrowed. “A letter of abject apology declaring his love and vowing to make her happy for the rest of her days?”

“Bloody hell,” Adrian muttered.

“Perhaps you are incredibly stupid after all.” Max snorted. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about how to pursue her as Sir without being too obvious. Damnation.” He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and signaled for another. “It completely slipped my mind that ongoing groveling was called for.”

“By her husband.”

“Yes, by her husband,” he snapped. “Although I do not grovel.”

“You know even the most loyal of women, even those most in love with their husbands, might be lured into temptation by a mysterious stranger if their husband is not appropriately attentive.”

“I fully intend to be appropriately attentive, I have simply not yet begun.” He winced to himself. This failure on his part was a huge mistake. How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t want to force her into the arms of another man, even if the other man was him. “It’s probably best to give her a day to realize her anger was out of all proportion to my crime.”

“Oh yes, because that’s what women do.” Sarcasm sounded in Max’s voice. “They come to such realizations without any assistance. It’s not as if they dwell on a man’s transgressions, exaggerating misdeeds out of all proportion, although in your case I am not sure exaggeration is possible. No, that would be irrational.”

“Evelyn has always been a rational sort,” Adrian said under his breath.

Max stared in disbelief. “You used to be so clever when it came to women. Good God, man, what has happened to you?”

“Marriage is what has happened to me.” Adrian clenched his teeth. “It makes fools out of even the most intelligent of men. I tell you, Max, it is far easier to deal with a flock of women than one single wife.”

“Only if one loves the wife in question.”

“That does indeed complicate everything.” He thought for a moment. “I shall have flowers delivered as soon as I return home. I have a conservatory, you know. And first thing tomorrow I shall select an appropriate—no—an extravagant piece of jewelry—something symbolic and meaningful—to be accompanied by a note.”

“It had better be an excellent note.”

“Oh, it will.” Adrian cast him a smug smile. “I have always been skilled with the written word.”

“I thought it was Sir who was so skilled,” Max said wryly.

Adrian ignored him. “I shall pour out my heart to her. I want her to have a choice.”

“It seems to me she had a choice once and she chose you.”

“Did she choose me or did she choose the life I offered?”

Max stared. “Surely you’re not talking about wealth and position?”

“No,” he said quickly. “She is not the kind of woman to barter the rest of her life simply for wealth. But security and family and belonging, that appealed to her.”

Max nodded. “She has no family, no one to turn to, and certainly no financial resources.” He chose his words with care. “But it was my observation that the true reason she chose you was love.”

“That’s what I am counting on.”

“It’s not too late to stop this right now.”

Adrian raised a brow. “Are you being the voice of reason again?”

Max grinned. “I am trying.”

“My wife’s decision to reside elsewhere, though, does mean this has to be done quickly.” He shook his head. “The longer she stays away, the more she will become used to living without me.” He drew his brows together. “I do not intend to lose her.”

“And yet—”

“I will not lose her,” Adrian said firmly. “And considering this all in a realistic manner, I can’t really. If she were to choose Sir, I will simply have to confess that I am Sir and we can continue on from there.”

“You are mad.” Max snorted. “Do you mean to tell me that you truly think that she will not be furious when she discovers that you originally met her as yourself to determine if she were working for someone else? And that said fury will not be exacerbated by this ruse you are perpetrating on her now?”

“She will forgive me,” he said with a confidence he didn’t quite feel.

“Are you sure?” Max leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You do understand you run the risk of losing her altogether?”

BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies

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