Read My Wicked Little Lies Online

Authors: Victoria Alexander

My Wicked Little Lies (17 page)

BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies
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“I won’t.” He drew a deep breath. “If—when—she chooses me, my doubts will be at an end and she will never know the truth of it all.”
Max settled back in his chair. “Because secrets of this nature never come to light?”
“This one won’t.”
“And if it does?”
“I will move heaven and earth to get her back.”
“And I cannot dissuade you from continuing?”
“No.”
“Very well then.” Max sipped his whiskey. “I have been giving this plan of yours some thought.”
“And?”
“And it seems to me Sir cannot accomplish this attempted seduction through words alone.”
Adrian studied the other man. “What did you have in mind?”
“It might well be time for Eve and Sir to meet in person.”
Adrian nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
“To that end, I have come up with a couple of options. Scenarios if you will.”
“As have I.” Adrian narrowed his eyes. “Go on.”
“You don’t want her to be able to see your face, of course.”
“It would be best to avoid that.”
“Yet you do want to be able to speak to her.” Max thought for a moment. “Under some sort of pretext, Sir could send her away, to Paris perhaps—”
“She does like Paris,” Adrian murmured.
“Where, in the dead of night, he—or rather—you could appear in her darkened hotel room, awaken her, and attempt to seduce her.”
“Now who is mad?” Adrian stared. “I can’t believe you would suggest such a thing.”
Max frowned. “Why not?”
“Just off the top of my head, mind you, I can think of any number of reasons why not.” Adrian ticked the points off on his fingers. “First of all, I am not going to send my wife to Paris without me. It’s a most romantic city.”
“I have had some memorable moments in Paris.” Max grinned in a wicked manner.
Adrian ignored him. “Second, breaking into her room in the middle of the night would no doubt terrify her. She’s never heard Sir’s voice, remember. Third, while she was rarely placed in potentially dangerous situations, we did give her a fair amount of training. I doubt I could surprise her in her sleep without her inflicting some bodily harm on me, which would be difficult to explain later. Finally, and perhaps most important, I suspect my wife would be clever enough, when traveling alone, to keep a firearm by her bed. She still owns a pistol.” He frowned. “I have no desire to sacrifice my life for this plan. Especially not in France.”
“It was only a suggestion.” Max huffed. “And admittedly, perhaps not my best. I am not used to plots that involve wives rather than villains. You do understand the idea of planning a seduction designed to fail is a concept that’s foreign to everything I believe in?”
“I know this is a challenge,” Adrian said in a wry manner. “But surely we can come up with something better.”
“It’s that whole business of not seeing your face that makes it so difficult.” Max paused. “There is an advantage, though, to Sir now being the one giving her instruction.”
“We should be able to use that.”
“What if we set up a simple meeting ...” Max’s eyes widened. “Why not use the confessional at the church in Battersea Park?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve met with someone at that church while pretending to be a priest,” Adrian said thoughtfully. “Although there is nothing to stop her from leaving her side of the confessional and surprising me. It’s just the sort of thing she would do.” He shuddered. “That would certainly muck things up.”
“No.” Max’s brow furrowed. “It would be better if she were tied up. Oh, and blindfolded.”
“It is my understanding that Catholic priests do not generally bind and blindfold those wishing to confess their sins,” Adrian said mildly. “That might attract unwelcome attention.”
“It would be awkward. Still ... I’ve got it.” Max raised his glass. “Kidnapping. It’s perfect. We have her kidnapped, tied up, blindfolded of course, possibly gagged, and stored somewhere out of reach.”
Adrian stared in disbelief. “I am not going to
store
my wife.”
“I’m not suggesting permanent storage.” Max scoffed. “Simply someplace where she can be held without discovery long enough for Sir to speak with her without her seeing his face.” Max took a deep swallow of his whiskey. “I tell you, it’s brilliant. We can have her put in the empty warehouse cellar on the docks. You know the place. We haven’t used it for some time but we still own it.” He paused. “Certainly, it tends to flood with the rising of the tide, but she will be rescued long before that happens.”
“Admittedly, that is better than startling her in the dead of night in a hotel in Paris. But I don’t think so. I don’t like the idea of putting her in any kind of danger.”
“She won’t be.” Max shrugged. “We’ll have her rescued the moment you’re done speaking with her. Sir—you—will tell her you have to go but someone will be along shortly. A few minutes later, I will have someone assigned to save her.” Max paused. “Even better, I’ll save her. Or Miss DeRochette can rescue her.”
Adrian raised a brow. “Miss DeRochette? But she’s not with the department anymore either.”
“Not actively. Remember, her last assignment was to provide protection for your wife should that become necessary. Thus far it hasn’t.” Max paused. “She has never been officially released from duty, however. I thought it wise.”
“How interesting,” Adrian murmured. “Still, it scarcely matters. I suspect, at this point, her loyalty lies more with my wife than with the department.”
“One would think. So ...” Max met the other man’s gaze. “Unless you can come up with something better, I think a kidnapping has a great deal to commend it.”
Adrian rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “I am not going to have my wife kidnapped and stored in a flooding cellar.”
“She would be rescued before it floods, but I do see your point. However, I still think it’s a good idea and should not be discarded entirely.”
“I don’t know. There’s entirely too much that can go wrong.”
“Rubbish. I would use my best men. We do know what we are doing when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“It bears further consideration, I suppose,” Adrian said thoughtfully. “As long as appropriate precautions were taken.”
“As they would be,” Max said firmly. “Then, unless you have a better plan—”
“I do have something of an idea.” Adrian thought for a moment. “Evelyn provided me with a schedule of our upcoming social events. A schedule that covers the next month.” He glared at the other man. “A full month. She expects to be gone an entire month. Can you believe that?”
“You thought she was having an affair and surprised an unsuspecting couple in a hotel room. You didn’t trust her and you embarrassed her.” Max cast him a pitying look. “If I were you, I would be grateful that a month is all the penance you have to pay.”
“Apparently, it’s not. She is refurbishing the house Miss DeRochette resides in as well, at great expense no doubt,” Adrian muttered. “I don’t want her gone for a month. I don’t want her gone at all. I—” A thought struck him and he stared at his friend. “How did you know that?”
“Know what?”
“About the hotel room incident.”
Max cast him an all-knowing smile. Adrian knew that smile; he had perfected it.
“Just tell me this is not common knowledge. It has not become fodder for gossip.” He blew a long breath. “The only thing saving me from certain disaster is that this mess has been kept quiet.”
Max laughed. “I do so enjoy it when you are not in complete control. And no, it is not commonly known.”
“I’m glad one of us is amused.” He sipped his whiskey. “As I was saying, Evelyn sent me a schedule of our social obligations. There is a Venetian masked ball, some sort of gala for some charity or another, in three days.”
“And you are expected to attend?”
“According to the
schedule
.” He grit his teeth.
“You were always a master of disguise. This couldn’t be more perfect for you than if you’d sent out the invitations yourself.” Max considered him curiously. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“I thought perhaps you might have had a better idea as this sort of thing is what you do every day.” He chuckled. “Obviously I was wrong.”
Max sniffed. “My ideas were excellent and most creative. Even you agree kidnapping is brilliant—”
“I’m not sure
brilliant
is the right word.”
“Even more brilliant, I’d say, if you, as Sir, disguised in Venetian dress, were to rescue her. Women can scarcely resist a hero.”
“That’s rather complicated, isn’t it?”
“Your idea is ...” Max shrugged. “Simple.”
“And as such is practically infallible.”
“I can think of any number of ways in which it might go wrong,” Max said in a lofty manner. “Horribly wrong.”
“Name two.”
“Better yet, three.” Max cleared his throat. “One, your wife expects you to attend this gala. She will not take it well should you beg off.”
“And I would prefer not to add to my list of sins.” Adrian drew his brows together. “Obviously both Adrian and Sir will attend.”
“Two, even at your best, it would be difficult for you to be two people at the same time in the same place.”
“Admittedly, it will be a challenge.” Adrian waved off the comment. “But manageable nonetheless.”
Max snorted. “And three.” He set his glass on the table and met his friend’s gaze. “There was no one better than you at disguise. You could fool anyone, anywhere. Even people you had met.” He leaned closer. “But Adrian, this is your wife. She knows you as well as you know yourself. She knows how you walk and stand and dance. She knows the looks in your eye and the smell of your soap. I think in an incense-scented church or a dank cellar you might be able to deceive her, but in her own world?” He settled back in his chair. “I’d wager you can’t fool her.”
“I fooled her when we first met.”
“Not really.” Max shrugged. “She’d never met you in person. I don’t think you can do it.”
“Of course I can do it.” He scoffed. “She’ll never realize who Sir really is. People never see what they don’t expect to see.” Especially women who didn’t think their husbands were adventurous.
“Would you care to wager on it?” Max said mildly.
Adrian narrowed his eyes. “What kind of wager?”
His tone was abruptly serious. “In exchange for my assistance in this absurd endeavor of yours, you agree to come back to the department in an advisory capacity.”
“Only on a temporary basis.”
“If I am right, if you cannot fool Evelyn, I want you to make it permanent.”
“I can’t—”
“I’m not asking you to resume your previous position. I understand why that isn’t possible.” He met Adrian’s gaze firmly. “But you were part of this department for nearly fifteen years, heading it for the last five. Your experience and expertise are invaluable. I have to confess, it is not the same without you. We could use you back. I could use you.”
“I don’t—”
“We have always been at our most brilliant when we have worked together. When we have puzzled out a solution together, combined your ideas with mine. As we have today. I want to be able to call on you, not every day, of course, but frequently. As an advisor, nothing more than that,” Max added quickly.
Now was not the time for Adrian to admit that he’d already been thinking along those lines. “And if I am successful?”
“Of course, you will no longer need to doubt your wife’s feelings for you, which should be winnings enough.”
“And all I want. However ...” Adrian shook his head slowly. “That’s scarcely sufficient for a wager between the two of us.”
“And ...” Max heaved a resigned sigh. “The department will never call on you or your wife again.”
“I see.” He considered his friend thoughtfully. “Do I have your word that you will not do anything to assure your winning this wager?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “While under other circumstances, I would do whatever I thought necessary to win a wager, the stakes for you are already high enough.” Max smiled ruefully. “As your friend, I almost hope I lose.”
“Almost?”
“You can’t ask for more than that from me.” Max grinned. “It’s the nature of man, I think. Even while hoping a bomb will not detonate, one can’t help but look forward a bit to the spectacle of the explosion itself.”
“Not all of us,” Adrian murmured, his mind already contemplating the details of accompanying Evie to the masquerade and being there as Sir to flirt with her. Pity, he couldn’t get the image of an exploding inferno consuming everything in its path out of his head. “Not all of us.”
Chapter 15
E
velyn’s gaze shifted from one bouquet to the next. The floral displays sat side by side on the table in Celeste’s parlor.
���I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Celeste strode into the parlor.
“Nonsense, it was far more than a minute.” Evelyn smiled at her friend. “I daresay you were gone nearly an hour.”
“I was gone
merely
an hour. Long enough apparently for you to fill the house with strange men.” Exasperation sounded in Celeste’s voice. “Again.”
“That would be Mr. Merryweather, Mr. Knowles, and Mr. Lloyd,” Evelyn said absently, her gaze returning to the flowers.
On the left side, an explosion of tulips and hyacinths and other spring flowers filled a large bowl to overflowing. It was most impressive. Somewhat more sedate, but no less impressive, was the elegant vase of two dozen red roses.
“Why are they here?”
“They’re measuring the bedrooms. I stopped at their establishments yesterday when I was finished at the dressmaker’s.” Evelyn glanced at her. “You may send them on their way with the same speech you gave the others.”
“I thought you were only going to refurbish one room?”
“Only one room at a time,” Evelyn said. “But it struck me last night, as I was failing to get to sleep, that refurbishing my wardrobe instead of this house means there is nothing to oversee.” She shrugged. “And no need to stay here.”
Celeste considered her for a moment. “Therefore, you could return to your husband.”
She nodded. “I could.”
“And his punishment would be at an end.”
“I’m not punishing him,” Evelyn said in a lofty manner. “I am simply giving him the uninterrupted opportunity to see the error of his ways.”
“Is it working?”
Evelyn clenched her teeth. “Not thus far.”
Celeste’s gaze slid to the floral arrangements. “I know the roses are from Sir. I’m assuming the other flowers are from Lord W?”
“They arrived this morning along with a brief note about spring. Quite lovely really.” She recited from memory, “ ‘
My dear Evie, I send these in hope they bring a touch of spring to your heart as you have always brought it to mine
.’ ”
“That is lovely.”
“My husband is a man of few words.” Too few really. The sentiment expressed in his note would have been quite perfect if it had come when she had been attributing her preoccupied manner to the weather. As it was, after two days and two endless nights without him, it simply wasn’t enough. “And apparently his continued apology, his declaration of being unable to live without me, his vow of undying love, his assurance that he will trust me without question for the rest of our days ...” She gritted her teeth. “Those are words that he is either unable or unwilling to say.”
“Still,” Celeste said quickly. “Lord W must have gone to a great deal of trouble to obtain spring blossoms at this time of year.”
“We do have a conservatory, you know,” Evelyn said wryly. “And a gardener quite proficient at forcing blooms.”
“Regardless, it was most thoughtful, as was his sentiment.” Celeste waved at the roses. “It’s not as if he simply had a florist deliver something as
expected
as two dozen red roses. That takes no particular effort whatsoever nor is it especially original.”
“No, it isn’t. And yet, one must give credit for quantity and persistence.”
“Persistence?”
“The roses in the front entry are the ones from yesterday. These came while you were out.”
Celeste grimaced. “From Sir?”
“Complete with another note.” She picked the note up off the table and handed it to Celeste. “Read it.”
“ ‘
My dear Eve
,’ ” Celeste read. “ ‘
Thus far there is little new in regards to the missing file. Therefore, at the moment, your services are not needed
.’ ” She glanced up. “This is good.”
Evelyn snorted. “Keep reading.”
Celeste’s gaze returned to the note. “ ‘
However, until this situation is resolved, be prepared to be called upon at any time.
’ ” She frowned. “Oh dear.”
“ ‘Oh dear’ is something of an understatement.” Evelyn scoffed. “Go on.”
“I’m almost afraid to,” Celeste said under her breath, then continued. “ ‘
Still, while the lack of progress is always a source of frustration, I cannot help but be grateful as it enables me to not merely renew our acquaintance but broaden it
.’ ” Celeste gasped and met Evelyn’s gaze. “Does he mean what I think he means?”
“I’m afraid to guess precisely what he means.”
“Is he mad then?”
“Given my experiences of late, I am beginning to believe all men are mad. And not merely annoying.” She gestured at the note. “There’s more.”
“I can see that.” Celeste winced. “Good Lord.” She drew a deep breath. “Where was I?”
“We had just broadened our acquaintance.”
“Yes, of course.” She searched for the words. “Let’s see ...‘
Do not think this is a casual desire on my part. You have filled my thoughts these past two years.’
”
Evelyn groaned.
“ ‘
In your last note you said you regret that we had never met. That, my dear lovely Eve, may well be greatest regret of my life. Yours always.’
” Celeste raised a stunned gaze to meet Evelyn’s. “ ‘
Sir
.’ ”
“Charming, isn’t it?” Evelyn said in a wry manner.
“Oh, my God, yes.” Celeste sat down on the sofa beside her and stared. “It’s not merely charming but might well be the most romantic thing I have ever read. Not meeting you is the biggest regret of his life? Why, it’s intoxicating and nearly irresistible.”
Evelyn shook her head. “Not to me.”
“Are you sure?” Celeste glanced at the note in her hand.
“Absolutely.”
“But there was a time—”
“That time is past,” Evelyn said firmly.
“You’re not the least bit, well, moved by his words?”
“Moved?” She scoffed. “What is there to be moved by?” She plucked the note from Celeste’s hand and waved it. “Admittedly, these are fine words. ‘
My dear lovely Eve
,’ ‘
Yours always
,’ ‘
greatest regret of my life,
’ but they have no real meaning.” She tossed the note back onto the table. “The man has always hidden behind the veil of secrecy required by his position and our work. Now, after all this time,
now
he chooses to tell me of feelings that, quite frankly, make no difference to me.” She thought for a moment. “One does have to wonder what he wants.”
Celeste chose her words with care. “It sounds as though what he wants is you.”
“Nonsense. It doesn’t sound that way to me at all. More than likely, his return to the department and his renewed communication with me have brought about ...” She searched for the right words. “Feelings of sentiment, which are probably no more than momentary aberrations.” She met her friend’s gaze firmly. “And I think you are reading far more into this note than is really there.”
“Oh, I daresay—”
“This regret of his that we have never met in person is no more significant than if I were to say I regret never having had the opportunity to ride an elephant or sail the blue waters of the West Indies or dance naked on a rooftop under the stars.”
Celeste raised a brow. “Dance naked on a rooftop?”
Evelyn waved away the comment. “It was an example.”
“Of regrets.”
“I have any number of regrets every bit as frivolous as that,” she said in a lofty manner. “However, as I am not on my deathbed, I am confident that someday I shall ride an elephant or sail blue waters or even dance naked under the stars.”
Celeste stared. “I had no idea.”
“Why? Because I have taken so well to the eminently proper life Adrian and I live?”
“There is that.”
“My life is everything I have ever wanted it to be.” She aimed a firm look at the other woman. “And my husband is very nearly everything I have ever wanted. Oh, certainly ...” She smiled in a dry manner. “Bringing spring to his heart is not quite as eloquent as not meeting me being the biggest regret of his life. Still, he is a man of substance, not shadow, a living, breathing man who, in spite of his shortcomings, which do seem to increase with every passing day, has my heart. Blast him. There is nothing I can do about that, nor do I wish to do anything about it.” She blew a long breath. “I just wish I was as certain of his feelings.”
“He did send you flowers.”
She cast her friend a withering look. “The conservatory, remember.”
“Are you doubting him?”
“I am trying not to, but he is not making it easy for me. This all started with my legitimate anger at his actions but now ...” She shook her head. “And I’ve been gone for two nights now. Two nights!”
“Seems like an eternity,” Celeste murmured.
“Doesn’t it, though?” Evelyn made a disparaging gesture at Adrian’s flowers. “And this is the only effort he’s made to get me back.”
“Well, he does think you’re here to oversee the refurbishing.”
“Then he is not nearly as intelligent as he appears,” she said sharply.
“Perhaps, as you are giving him the uninterrupted opportunity to see the error of his ways,” Celeste said slowly. “He is giving you time—”
“To come to my senses?” Her jaw clenched and she looked at her friend. “I am the injured party, am I not?”
“Of course you are.”
“Do you know what I really want from him?”
Celeste shook her head.
“I want him to show the same passion in winning me back that he did in the pursuit of what he thought was my betrayal.” Even as she said the words, she knew the truth of them. A truth she hadn’t realized until just now. She sighed. “Is that too much to ask?”
“Not at all,” Celeste said staunchly, then paused. “But perhaps you are expecting too much of him. Lord W has never struck me as a particularly passionate sort.”
“Oh, but he is. He is a very private man, restrained and controlled. He doesn’t show his emotions easily.” Evelyn got to her feet, stepped to the table, and bent to inhale the fragrance of hyacinth and tulip. “He is passionate about his work in Parliament. He thinks this country can be better and he feels a great responsibility to that end. He is passionate about his family. He would do whatever was necessary to protect them. And he is—was—passionate about me. About us.” She turned back to her friend. “But now he has let me go and thus far has not made much effort to win me back.”
“You could always return home.”
“No, I can’t.” She shook her head. “It would be like saying that it’s perfectly fine for him to distrust me. That he did nothing wrong. Why would I return to a man who doesn’t seem to care if I am there or not?”
“Oh, I don’t believe—”
“No.” She shook her head. “If we don’t have trust between us, what do we have?”
“You have never trusted him with your past.”
“That’s an entirely different thing.” She shrugged off the comment. “He was the one who said our lives before we met weren’t significant.” She smiled wryly. “I suspect that was more to save him from recriminations than anything else.” She met her friend’s gaze. “I think, though, that I would tell him now if he asked.”
“Because you trust him?”
“With my past, with my future ...” She sighed. “With my heart. Damnable man.” She paused for a long moment. “And I trust that he loves me. And hopefully, he will soon realize that himself before ...”
“Before what?”
“Before I am forced to take measures to make him realize how much he does care.”
“What kind of measures?” Caution sounded in Celeste’s voice.
“I don’t know yet.” Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “But I shall think of something.”
“What are you going to do about Sir?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing to do. His note did not require a response, and I see no need to send one.”
“But—”
“But if I am right and you are reading too much into his words, then no response is necessary. If I am wrong, then no response is the wisest course.”
“No doubt.” Celeste nodded. “Still, he says he wishes to broaden your acquaintance.”
“Be that as it may, as long as he doesn’t show up on my doorstep, it is not something I am going to concern myself with.”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Waterston.” Hendricks appeared in the doorway. “You have a caller.”
Evelyn and Celeste traded uneasy glances.
“I am sure she will wish to see me,” a familiar voice sounded behind the butler.
Relief washed through Evelyn and she stepped forward. “I am always delighted to see you, Helena.”
BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies
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