Read My Wicked Little Lies Online

Authors: Victoria Alexander

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BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies
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“Oh no, not
especially
.” Miranda shook her head.
“But rather a lot really,” Diana murmured.
“Nonsense.” Evie pulled her gaze from his and was, at once, completely controlled. “I can’t believe Lady Dunwell doesn’t have better taste.”
“Have you met Beryl Dunwell?” Veronica said under her breath.
“Of course I have met her.” Evie nodded. “Indeed, I consider her a friend.”
“You what?” Adrian said without thinking. Friendship between Evie and Beryl did not strike him as a sound idea. He had learned long ago, when dealing with women, one should never allow the past to collide with the present. He assumed, if the present was a wife, it was even more important to avoid such a collision.
“She is my friend,” Evie repeated firmly.
“How very interesting,” Miranda said.
“Really?” Diana stared. “Beryl Dunwell? I wouldn’t think the two of you would have anything at all in common.”
“Oh, you would be surprised,” Evie said with a pleasant smile.
“I think you would be an excellent influence on Lady Dunwell,” Helena said staunchly. “She could certainly use a good influence. You and Adrian behave most properly.”
“Did you hear that, darling?” Evie leaned forward slightly and looked into his eyes. “Your mother has no doubts as to our proper behavior. She
trusts
that we will not do anything foolish and scandalous.”
“Yes, yes.” Bianca gestured impatiently. “You and Adrian are most proper, Lady Dunwell is a strumpet, and Lord Radington is a scoundrel. Be that as it may, it’s not ...” She paused in the manner of an expert storyteller. “The best part of the story.”
“Oh, do get on with it then, Bianca.” Impatience sounded in Portia’s voice. Her eyes widened with the realization of what she had said. “Not that I’m at all interested,” she added quickly.
James grinned. “I find I am rather interested.”
“As are we all,” Diana said. “Out with it, Bianca.”
“The best part,” Bianca continued, “is that, apparently in the middle of, well, the
act
, who burst in upon them unannounced?”
Bloody hell.
“An irate husband,” Bianca said with a flourish in her voice.
“Lord Dunwell?” Hugh raised an incredulous brow.
“I can’t imagine Lord Dunwell being outraged.” Veronica turned to her husband. “He is no better than she is.”
Sebastian had spent much of his adult life traveling the world and had only returned to England for good last autumn. He stared at her. “How do you know all this?”
“Oh, one hears things, here and there.” Veronica cast her husband a wicked smile. “You would be surprised at the things I know.”
Sebastian chuckled. “I have been thus far.”
“That certainly is anticlimactic,” Adrian said. Past time to change this subject. “Lady Dunwell and Lord Radington.” He scoffed. “Nothing surprising there.” He turned to his youngest brother. “Sebastian, have you started your new book—”
“I’m not finished.” Indignation sounded in Bianca’s voice. “There’s more and it’s even better.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree with Portia.” Adrian shook his head. “This is most definitely gossip and I don’t think—”
“Nonsense, darling.” Evie’s gaze pinned his. “Everyone wants to hear the rest of the story. I know I am fairly consumed with curiosity.” She glanced at Bianca. “Please, don’t stop now.”
“Thank you, Evelyn. As I was saying, an irate husband interrupted them. However ...” She paused. “The husband in question was not Lord Dunwell!”
Adrian held his breath.
Sebastian stared in confusion. “Does Lady Dunwell have more than one husband?”
“She did, dear,” Veronica said, “but her first husband is dead. Goodness, even Lady Dunwell only has one husband at a time.”
Diana frowned. “Now I am confused, Bianca. What are you trying to say?”
“The husband who burst in upon them was not looking for Lady Dunwell but rather for
his
wife. Who he apparently thought was with Lord Radington,” Bianca finished with a satisfied grin.
For a long moment everyone stared.
“Oh my,” Miranda said.
“And at the Langham.” Portia shook her head.
At once laughter again engulfed the table.
“And the name of this outraged but obviously mistaken husband?” Evie asked.
“Oh.” Bianca visibly deflated. “I’m afraid I don’t have that. All I know is that he and his wife have an impeccable reputation and there has never been any talk regarding infidelity about either of them.”
Relief washed through Adrian.
“Probably for the best.” Helena nodded. “That you don’t know his name, that is.”
“One wonders if it wasn’t a mistake on the part of the husband,” Evie said mildly. “Given their reputation.”
“Can you imagine such a thing?” Diana shook her head. “I would be furious if my husband burst into a hotel room looking for me. If he didn’t trust me.”
“Fortunately for me ...” James cast an affectionate look at his wife. “I trust you implicitly.”
Diana smiled with satisfaction. “As well you should.”
“Still,” Adrian said slowly, knowing full well any comment on his part was probably a mistake yet unable to stop himself. “One also has to wonder if the wife’s manner didn’t lead the husband to suspect something was amiss.”
Evie’s expression didn’t change but anger flashed in her eyes. “Certainly, men jump to irrational conclusions all the time on the flimsiest bits of circumstantial evidence.”
Hugh frowned. “I don’t.”
Bianca snorted. “You’re not married.”
“If, of course, the wife is innocent,” Miranda began.
“And one does have to wonder about that as well,” Portia pointed out.
“But if the wife has done nothing untoward, how terribly humiliating for her,” Miranda continued. “For anyone, let alone Lady Dunwell, to know your husband doesn’t trust you, it’s very nearly unforgivable. I would be furious as well, and I daresay, my forgiveness would not be easily gained.”
“I don’t know why you are all assuming the wife is innocent,” Hugh said. At once, six pairs of indignant female eyes pinned him. “Although she probably is,” he added quickly.
“Nonetheless if a man loves his wife ...” Sebastian chose his words with care. “Isn’t a certain amount of jealousy to be expected on occasion?”
“But if a man trusts his wife as well as loves her,” Veronica said, “wouldn’t he confirm any doubts he might have by, oh, I don’t know, asking her outright rather than letting his suspicions build until he finds himself bursting into the wrong hotel room?”
“I do wish you would all stop using the word
burst
,” Adrian said sharply. “It conjures up images of splintered doors and madmen persecuting innocent wives.”
“
Burst
is how it was told to me.” Bianca’s brows drew together. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
“You’ll have to forgive your brother,” Evie said smoothly. “He has not been sleeping well of late.”
“Poor dear,” Helena said with an overly innocent smile.
“My apologies,” Adrian muttered and took a long swallow of his wine. Even if the incident at the Langham was now fodder for gossip, the identity of the irate husband was apparently not public knowledge. Yet. With any luck, it never would be. And if there was one lesson he had learned through years of clandestine operations, while luck could not be counted on, luck often made the difference between failure and success.
“Veronica.” Evie turned to his sister-in-law and smoothly changed the subject. “Have you seen the new exhibition at the Grosvenor Gallery?”
“Not as of yet.” Veronica shook her head. “But I have heard nothing but the most wonderful ...”
Within moments the conversation had turned to art, which would inevitably lead someone, probably Bianca, to the latest gossip concerning the artistic community in London. There was always something scandalous in the air, and Bianca was extremely fond of art. And scandal.
She was good, his wife, but then Adrian knew that. While he was grateful for her intervention, one look in her eyes told him the conversation had not helped his cause. And how could it? With every female present expressing her opinion as to the unforgiving nature of the unnamed husband’s sins. It was obvious the conversation served to remind her why she was so angry and hurt. As heartened as he was by his talk with Evie this evening, and their kiss, it was clear even diamonds would not lure her back to his house, or his bed, tonight.
When it came to his wife, at least at the moment, his luck might well have run out.
Chapter 17
“D
are we ask what vile crime you committed?” Hugh asked casually after the ladies had left the gentlemen to their brandy.
“Why do you think I have committed a vile crime?” Adrian said.
“You do understand ...” Sebastian chose his words with care. “Mother told us you and your wife have had some kind of falling-out.”
“And that she is now living in that house of hers,” James added.
“So, as Evelyn has always struck us as most level-headed and not at all the type of woman to blow things out of all proportion ...” Hugh studied his older brother over the rim of his glass. “It’s only natural to assume the crime you committed was most vile.”
“However,” James added quickly, “as she attended dinner tonight and we noticed no overt rancor between you—”
“Although there were a few harsh looks,” Hugh said under his breath.
“We also assume your crime was not so vile as to involve another woman.”
“I would never be involved with another woman.” Indignation sounded in Adrian’s voice. “I gave up other women when I married.”
“Most men do.” James nodded. “Or they say they do.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes.
“However,” James added quickly, “a man whose wife has three protective brothers and who values his life would never stray.” James’s firm gaze slid from one brother to the next. “Nor would a man who is more in love with his wife now than on the day they wed.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Excellent answer.”
James shrugged. “Nothing but the truth.” He grinned. “But it was good, wasn’t it?”
Hugh raised his glass to his brother-in-law. “You, James, are a lucky man.” He turned to his brothers. “As are the two of you.”
“No argument there,” Sebastian said with a smug smile.
Adrian sipped his brandy and wished his sister allowed cigars in her dining room.
“So ...” Hugh studied his brother with what Adrian had always thought of as his assessing barrister look. “Are you going to tell us what you did or shall our imaginations run amok?”
Adrian forced a cool smile. The last thing he wanted was to share his idiocy with his brothers. “Run away.”
James shook his head. “My imagination is not up to a challenge like this. I shall leave that in the hands of the author among us.”
Sebastian chuckled. “And while I can think of any number of sins that are significant but not unforgivable, it’s probably best to keep them to myself.”
“You are wiser than you look,” Adrian said.
“He would have to be.” Hugh laughed.
“Perhaps, as we are discussing my wisdom,” Sebastian began, “I might be of some assistance. In regards to the handling of wives, that is.”
Adrian scoffed. “You’ve been married, what? Scarcely a month?”
“And yet ...” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in a crafty manner. “I have already learned a great deal.”
“If I were to solicit advice from any of you it would be James.” Adrian nodded at his brother-in-law. “He’s been married forever.”
“Not forever.” James scoffed and sipped his brandy. “On occasion it may feel like forever ...”
Hugh chuckled.
“But well worth it all in all.” James thought for a moment. “It hasn’t been entirely perfect but then what is in life? What it has been is good and it continues to be good.”
“Our life is good,” Adrian said staunchly.
“No doubt.” Hugh paused. “Then this difficulty of yours—”
“A momentary aberration,” Adrian said firmly. “I expect it to be resolved in no more than another day or two.”
“I see.” James studied him. “Then you have apologized, vowed never to do whatever it is you did again, groveled—”
“I do not grovel,” Adrian said sharply. “I’m not sure I even know how to grovel. But I have apologized, more than once.”
“Then all you can do is continue to apologize,” James said. “And wait.”
Sebastian nodded. “For her to come to her senses.”
Hugh snorted. “You really haven’t been married very long.”
“The last thing you want to do is tell a wife to come to her senses,” James said firmly. “Especially when you are in the wrong, as I assume Adrian is.”
“So it would appear,” Adrian muttered.
“Nothing infuriates a wife more than the implication that she is irrational, even if she is.” Warning sounded in James’s voice. “You may trust me on this. I am speaking from experience.”
“But you’re suggesting I wait?” Adrian shook his head. “I would much prefer to take some sort of action.”
“Perhaps you should reconsider groveling,” Hugh murmured.
Adrian ignored him. “I was quite optimistic before dinner. We spoke when she arrived and I believe she was very close to forgiving me.” He glanced around the table. “I was quite charming.”
“No doubt. However, it might have been wise, all things considered,” Hugh said, “if you had refrained from coming to the defense of the outraged husband in the tale Bianca told.”
“Oh, she did not like that.” Sebastian grimaced.
“Nor did any of them.” James sipped his brandy. “They are much like herding beasts in that respect, banding together to protect one of their own.”
“If I recall correctly, you were once quite skilled at seduction,” Hugh said. “Of course, you might well have lost those skills.”
Adrian raised a brow. “Those are not the kind of skills one loses.” He paused. “Although admittedly, they may well be rusted from lack of use.”
“Perhaps you should try seduction. I daresay she won’t be overly critical.” Hugh shrugged.
Adrian narrowed his eyes. “Thank you for your confidence.”
“You have my complete confidence,” Hugh said staunchly. “You won her once, you can do it again. Proceed as you did when you first met. Flowers, romantic notes, that sort of thing.”
“I have.” Adrian huffed. “I am.”
“I know this is not what you want to hear, but in situations like this, not that we actually know the situation, time really does heal all wounds.” James leaned forward and met Adrian’s gaze. “You say she was softening toward you?”
“It seemed so.” Of course, that was before she had been reminded of his misdeeds.
“Then continue what you have been doing. Remind her of why she married you in the first place, exactly as Hugh suggested.” James thought for a moment. “Perhaps take her to a fine dinner. Or escort her to a ball. Dancing is an excellent means of working your way back into a woman’s heart.”
“Aren’t you going to that charity ball tomorrow night?” Hugh asked.
“It’s on my schedule,” Adrian said wryly.
“We are planning to attend,” Sebastian said. “According to Veronica, it’s to be a Venetian masquerade complete with costume and masks.” He grinned. “There is nowhere more romantic than Venice and nothing as enticing as flirtation behind a mask.”
“You can be anyone behind a mask. Who you really are.” Hugh cast them a wicked smile. “Or someone else entirely.”
“There is that,” Adrian said under his breath. And hadn’t he already realized that? Wasn’t that why he had decided the masquerade was the perfect place for Eve and Sir to finally meet in person? Although perhaps he hadn’t considered the consequences of
romantic
and
enticing
in terms of Sir. Nor did he wish to. But
enticing
and
romantic
might serve a man wanting his wife back quite well. “It’s something to consider.”
“I’d say it’s a plan.” Hugh raised his glass in a toast.
Adrian shrugged. “I would scarcely call it a plan.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a plan.” Sebastian nodded. “Believe me, I know plans and this one sounds most effective.”
“So for one more night, you allow your wife time to consider how much she misses her charming husband,” James said.
“Women always want that which is not too easily had.” Sebastian nodded in a sage manner. Perhaps he had learned something about wives after all. Or more likely, he simply knew women.
“And tomorrow night, helped by Venetian splendor and a night of dance and romance. Tomorrow night, old man ...” James, too, raised his glass. “You shall seduce your wife.”
 
 
“They should have family dinners more often.” Max’s fingers traced lazy patterns over her naked abdomen, trailing up to her breasts and then drifting lower to her stomach.
“But as it will not continue forever, I need to be on my way.” Celeste propped herself up on her elbows and glanced down at his hand. His touch teasing and tantalizing and more than sufficient to make her forget her responsibilities. Desire once again tightened within her. She ignored it. “Whatever are you doing?”
“I am writing you a note.”
“Pity I can’t read it.”
He leaned forward and kissed her stomach. “Shall I read it to you? It’s very interesting.”
For a moment desire warred with duty. “Next time you may read it to me.” She sighed. “Now, however, I should be off. I wish to return home before Evelyn does.”
She started to sit up but he pulled her back down.
“You’re not going anywhere yet.” He threw his leg over hers, shifted to straddle her, then captured her wrists with one hand and held them over her head. He bent and nuzzled the side of her neck. “You love it when I do this.”
“I hate it when you do that,” she lied and he knew it. How could she hide it? The way her treacherous body writhed beneath him ... the breathless note in her voice ... “Stop it this instant and release me.”
He murmured against her skin. “You and I both know if you really wanted me to stop, you have ways of accomplishing just that.” He raised his head and grinned down at her. “Painful and most effective ways.”
“You would be wise to remember that.”
“It is never far from my mind.” He released her wrists and straightened but continued to sit with his knees on either side of her hips. He gazed down at her. “I miss you.”
She laughed. “I doubt that. I am here nearly every other night.”
He shook his head. “But you never stay the entire night.”
“There are reasons for that.”
“I know.” His tone was abruptly serious. “I want you here every night. I want you here when I awaken in the morning.”
“Max.” She sighed. “If you are talking about marriage again—”
“I am.”
“I told you I am not the type of woman you should marry.”
“And I told you I shall marry whomever I please.” He moved off her and slid off the bed. He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on.
She sat up and pulled the sheet up around her. “If you are putting on clothes, this must be serious.”
“It is.” He buttoned his trousers and looked at her. “I am tired of this.”
“Nonsense.” She ignored the touch of fear that flickered inside her. “You are the least tired man I have ever met. Indeed,
insatiable
is a more accurate term than
tired
.”
He grinned. “Thank you.” His expression sobered. “But I am tired.” He waved at the bed. “Of sharing nothing aside from this.” His gaze met hers. “I want more.”
“There isn’t any more, Max,” she said softly, hoping he didn’t notice the catch in her throat. “Not for us.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You may well be the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”
“Then we are well matched as you are the most stubborn man.”
“And I have never failed in achieving what I want.” His eyes narrowed. “You will marry me, Celeste.”
She raised a brow. “If that is a proposal, it’s rather high-handed of you.”
“It’s not, a proposal, that is.” He shook his head. “Only a fool would ask a question he knows the answer to, if that answer is not what he wants. I will not ask you until I know you will say yes.”
“Then I hope you are a patient man.” She wrapped the sheet around herself and slipped out of bed, glancing around, as always, for her clothes. “As I cannot conceive of that happening.”
Without warning, he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “You love me, you know.”
She stared into his eyes for an endless moment and considered denying it. At last she sighed in surrender. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Good.” A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “Someday, very soon now, you will agree marriage is the best gift we can give one another.”
“Really?” She forced a light tone to her voice. “And I have always considered emeralds to be the best—”
“I want you in my bed every night and every morning.” He gazed down into her eyes. “I want to introduce you to my family, my friends. I want to dance with you at grand balls and picnic with you in public parks. And I want you by my side on the day I breathe my last.”
BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies
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