Read My Wicked Little Lies Online
Authors: Victoria Alexander
My Wicked Little Lies (22 page)
And if Adrian’s actions, or lack of them, weren’t enough to drive her mad, she had returned home tonight to find another note from Sir.
My dear Eve, it had read. I regret to say there is nothing to report regarding the whereabouts of the stolen file. Therefore, I shall soon recommend your obligation to this department be terminated.
Well, that was something at any rate. But unfortunately the note had not ended there.
As much as I know it is highly inappropriate to use these missives for personal purposes, if you recall, this is not the first time. Admittedly, your life is much different now than when we last worked together, as you are now wed to another. I should apologize for my presumption but I cannot regret at last putting my feelings to paper. When it comes to desire, dearest Eve, I am no different than any man.
Oh, that was more than she wished to know.
You have not merely filled my thoughts these past two years but my dreams. Dreams of the two of us together, lost in one another. Dreams I can neither ignore nor deny. Dare I hope to one day see them fulfilled? Yours, Sir
Wonderful, just bloody wonderful. And what in the name of all that’s holy did he mean by
see them fulfilled
? How absurd. While his notes in years past had, on occasion, been most flirtatious, this was, well,
more
. Was Sir bent on seduction? Surely not. Although
see them fulfilled
did sound suspiciously like seduction. Not that it mattered. She was, after all, married now and happily so in spite of present circumstances.
see them fulfilled
? How absurd. While his notes in years past had, on occasion, been most flirtatious, this was, well,
more
. Was Sir bent on seduction? Surely not. Although
see them fulfilled
did sound suspiciously like seduction. Not that it mattered. She was, after all, married now and happily so in spite of present circumstances.
Still, it was more than a little gratifying to know there was a man who dreamed of her and wanted her and perhaps even intended to pursue her. A man who, admittedly, had once filled her own dreams. A man who, had he made these declarations long ago, might well have won her heart.
She heaved a heartfelt sigh, rolled onto her back, and stared unseeing at the shadowy ceiling. Odd that on a night like this when she was unable to sleep and erotic images and desires filled her head, they weren’t for a man of adventure and excitement and mystery. But for the man who drove her quite mad and didn’t always realize what she wanted or even when he had won. The man who could still make her tremble with desire and melt her with his kiss and take her breath away.
The one man, the only man, who always would.
Chapter 18
I
f one didn’t know better, one might have thought one was indeed at a glittering ball in Venice a century ago. Masked guests garbed in silks and satins, powdered wigs, and sparkling jewels crowded the Effington House ballroom, the London home of the Duke and Duchess of Roxborough. The duchess had graciously offered to host the masquerade as the event was, after all, for the benefit of charity. The huge ballroom itself was as festive as its guests. Urns were filled to overflowing with greenery and blossoms, no doubt from the Effington greenhouses. Gas lighting was eschewed in favor of candles, in the spirit of eighteenth-century Venice, and candlelight flickered from candelabras and sconces and centerpieces. It was, all in all, a setting enchanting and magical and romantic.
f one didn’t know better, one might have thought one was indeed at a glittering ball in Venice a century ago. Masked guests garbed in silks and satins, powdered wigs, and sparkling jewels crowded the Effington House ballroom, the London home of the Duke and Duchess of Roxborough. The duchess had graciously offered to host the masquerade as the event was, after all, for the benefit of charity. The huge ballroom itself was as festive as its guests. Urns were filled to overflowing with greenery and blossoms, no doubt from the Effington greenhouses. Gas lighting was eschewed in favor of candles, in the spirit of eighteenth-century Venice, and candlelight flickered from candelabras and sconces and centerpieces. It was, all in all, a setting enchanting and magical and romantic.
If, of course, one was in the mood for enchanting and magical and romantic. And not in the mood to strangle one’s husband in his sleep.
Evelyn accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and surveyed the room. She had been here for a good half hour thus far and had barely managed to make her way much past the doors of the ballroom, the crowd was so thick.
When their carriage had arrived at her house this evening, there was no Adrian, simply a note saying he would be late but would join her here. One would think if one was trying to win back one’s wife, one would make an effort to, oh, make an appearance when one said one would. She hadn’t attended an event like this without an escort since before she was married, and even then, Max or Celeste or someone else from the department unknown to her was somewhere in the vicinity. Odd how two years of marriage changed things. She used to feel quite confident on her own. Tonight she was vaguely ill at ease. Incomplete perhaps. Not that it really mattered. She was probably acquainted with most of the people here. Of course, her gaze skimmed the crowd, no one was recognizable behind the masks and clothing of the Venice of a long past age. But then, her spirits brightened, neither was she.
Still, even if one could not properly identify individuals, one could tell a lot about a person, especially men, by what they chose to wear at an event like this. What they chose to hide and what they revealed.
She noted a fair number of men whose satin waistcoats were matched in fabric to that of a woman’s gown. Obviously those were married or betrothed couples who were either too stupid to realize how predictable such a display was or the gentleman was too under the thumb of his wife to protest or simply didn’t care. Or the couple was too much in love to be completely anonymous for one mere night. She pressed her lips together. She had come perilously close to ordering a matching waistcoat for Adrian when she had ordered her own gown. He would have laughed, but he would have worn it to please her.
Then there were those gentlemen who wore the knee britches and brocade coats of a century ago with a confident air and a swagger in their step. No doubt, somewhere inside, those gentlemen regretted that men now wore black and white for formal occasions instead of the peacock hues of their predecessors. Those would be the Lord Radingtons of society who never doubted their charm or skills with women. In contrast were those men wearing very much the same style of dress who appeared, in their manner of movement, to be ill at ease in garb that was not what they were accustomed to wearing. Evelyn suspected they had no lack of confidence under ordinary circumstances but now felt somewhat silly.
Amid the brightly colored silks and satins were those gentlemen who had chosen the very Venetian white bauta mask, covering nearly the entire face and muffling the voice. Coupled with the traditional black tricorn hat and hooded black cloak, the effect was one of total anonymity as well as mystery. Who knew what face was behind that mask and what that gentleman might be hiding?
As for the women, Evelyn hadn’t seen one yet who was wearing a full mask. Most wore some sort of half mask, simple or ornamented with gems and feathers, that covered only the eyes, as did she. But then women as a whole tended to delight in the donning of extravagant gowns and hairpieces and wanted to look as alluring as possible. She certainly did. There was something about wearing the cream and gold, satin and lace confection in the style of the last century she’d had made for this occasion that was most intoxicating. Its daringly low bodice coupled with her powered wig and cream satin mask could very nearly make her believe she was someone else entirely. Someone desirable and alluring and even a touch wanton. And wasn’t that the nature of a masquerade? Evelyn would have wagered there wasn’t a woman here who didn’t wish to look like the most delectable Venetian courtesan of the past. And why not? Behind a mask, you could be anyone at all. She sipped her champagne and smiled to herself. And perhaps tonight, she would be.
“Darling, you look exquisite tonight.” A woman in an extravagant red and gold gown appeared before her. Her powdered wig was as extreme as her dress. Her mask was gilded and jeweled, her fan gold lace, and her bodice so low Evelyn feared what might happen if she leaned forward. Even so, Evelyn couldn’t help feeling a prick of envy. While she was quite pleased with her own appearance tonight, and in truth thought she had rarely looked better, the woman before her was nothing short of magnificent. Indeed, she was a vision of a Venetian enchantress, if only in a man’s dreams.
“As do you but then you always do,” Evelyn said lightly as if she knew who was behind the mask. Although the voice was vaguely familiar.
The red courtesan studied her, then laughed. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Evelyn considered a polite lie. After all, if they had met on the street and Evelyn had been unable to recall her name, she certainly would have pretended otherwise. But this was a masked ball, and under these circumstances, not realizing someone’s identity was something of a compliment. She shrugged in a helpless manner. “My apologies but I have no idea who you are.”
The courtesan sniffed. “So much for friendship.”
Evelyn stared for a moment, then laughed. “Beryl, of course. I should have realized at once.”
Beryl fluttered her fan and cast her a smug smile. “Because no one else you know could possibly look as glorious in the garb of a seductress?”
“Well, yes, that.” Evelyn grinned, leaned closer, and lowered her voice. “And the fact that only you would wear something so daring.”
“Daring?”
“Your bosoms, dear.” Evelyn nodded at the other woman’s bodice. “Another quarter of an inch and you will pass daring and slide right into tomorrow’s gossip.” She adopted a falsetto voice. “My goodness, did you see Lady Dunwell’s bosoms spring free from her gown? And at a charity event, no less. The woman has no sense of propriety.”
“Oh dear, I hadn’t thought of that. But as you didn’t recognize me, no one else will.” She cast Evelyn a wicked smile. “I shall have to take off my mask should my bosoms escape their confines. I would hate for gossips not to have the correct information.” Beryl glanced down at her impressive display of décolletage. “Although I would think my bosoms would be recognizable to any number of people even with my mask on.”
Evelyn stared. “You really have no sense of propriety at all, do you?”
“I certainly hope not.” Beryl huffed. “I have put a great deal of effort into my wicked reputation, and I should hate for it to have been a waste.”
Evelyn laughed. Good Lord, Beryl was scandalous and immoral and destined, no doubt, to come to a bad end. Still, there was something Evelyn quite liked about her. Perhaps it was because she was so unlike anyone else she knew.
“But how did you know who I was?” Evelyn said. “I thought I was quite cleverly disguised.”
“Ah yes, about that.” Beryl glanced from side to side although with her mask on it was difficult to tell. “I shall explain but not here.” She plucked Evelyn’s glass from her hand and passed it to a waiter, then took her arm and steered her toward the entry.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we won’t be overheard.”
“Why?”
“I may not care about my reputation, but I do have concerns for yours. You are such a proper sort.” She heaved a heartfelt sigh. “And I am such a good friend.”
Evelyn stifled a smile. “So I see.”
“I told you I would be.” They passed through the entry to the ballroom, then Beryl paused and glanced around. “The ladies’ receiving room is down that corridor so we shall take this one instead.”
Beryl headed down the hall, Evelyn by her side. Not at all easy given the width of their respective gowns. “Why are you being so mysterious?”
“I’m not being mysterious, dear, I’m being cautious. It’s not nearly as much fun. And as I am, well, certainly not older but definitely wiser, I feel you would benefit from my advice.”
“Do you?” Evelyn bit back a grin and silently thanked the department. In spite of her work for them, and any number of questionable activities, she had emerged with a public reputation which, while admittedly not spotless, was, as her mother-in-law put it, not especially blemished. Respectable enough to marry an earl. Her brows drew together. Where was he anyway?
Beryl pushed open a closed door and peered inside the room. “This will do.”
Evelyn followed her into a fair-sized salon, tastefully appointed for both comfort and style, but then she would expect nothing less. “I must say your secrecy has quite piqued my curiosity.”
“Secrecy is essential when one plays these sorts of games.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “What sorts of games?”
Beryl ignored the question and closed the door behind them. “As you know, there was a time when I had my cap set for Adrian.”
“And?”
“I only mention it because I do know the type of man he is. It’s of no significance really.” Beryl shrugged. “You were his choice after all.”
“When we met ...” Evelyn chose her words with care. “Adrian said nothing that happened in our lives before then mattered.”
Beryl stared. “Why, what a dear, sweet liar the man is.”
“He is not.” Evelyn huffed. No matter how annoyed she might be with her husband, she did not wish to hear anyone else speak ill of him.
“Goodness, dear, a man only says nothing in your pasts matters when he has more to hide than you do.” She studied her for a moment. “Unless I’m mistaken.”
Evelyn’s stomach tensed. “Oh?”
“Well, I had thought you were extremely proper and I do know Adrian worships the ground you walk on—”
“Does he?”
“Of course. He tried to catch you
in flagrante delicto
.”
in flagrante delicto
.”
Evelyn raised a brow. “And that means he worships me?”
“Not all husbands make the effort,” Beryl said with a casual shrug. “Only a husband who truly cares or one who views his wife as nothing more than a possession would go to the trouble of tracking down his errant—”
“I was not errant!”
“Wife. Adrian has never struck me as the sort who would think of his wife as something he owns.”
“No, he’s not.”
“I told you I know the type of man your husband is. You do realize how lucky you are?”
“Yes, I do.” Evelyn pulled her brows together. “What on earth are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say that you should not follow in my footsteps.”
Evelyn stared. “I should not what?”
“You have far too much to lose,” Beryl said firmly.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Beryl studied her for a long moment. “You don’t, do you?”
“No.” Evelyn huffed. “And I thought you were going to tell me how you knew who I was.”
“It all ties together, dear.” She paused. “Are you certain you don’t know—”
“Would you please tell me what you are going on about,” Evelyn said sharply.
“You really don’t know.” Astonishment sounded in Beryl’s voice. “How very interesting.”
“Beryl,” Evelyn snapped. “Out with it.”
“Patience, my dear friend.” Beryl grinned in a wicked manner. “Oh, this is delightful.”
“Beryl!”
“Very well then.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “If you insist on taking all the fun out of it.”
“And I do.”
“I knew what you were wearing because you were pointed out to me.”
“I haven’t told anyone what I was wearing tonight.” Evelyn shook her head in confusion. “Who on earth could have told you?”
“I have no idea.” She shrugged. “He was wearing one of those white masks with the black hat and cloak. Why, you couldn’t even see his hair.” She thought for a moment. “He was tall, though.”
“And this mysterious gentleman pointed me out to you?” Evelyn said slowly.
“Well, he had to, of course.”
Her breath caught. “He did?”
“He did if he wanted me to deliver this to you.” Beryl plucked a folded note from between her breasts although where she found room to hide something out of sight was beyond Evelyn. Beryl presented the note with a flourish.
Evelyn reached for it but Beryl pulled it back.
Other books
Something Had to Give by Trish D.
Over the Edge by Gloria Skurzynski
The Fourth Durango by Ross Thomas, Sarah Paretsky
The Vampire Blog by Pete Johnson
The Istanbul Puzzle by Laurence O'Bryan
Ashes in the Wind by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
Born Into Fire by KyAnn Waters, Tarah Scott
The Hobgoblin of the Redwoods by Trevor Scott
One Naughty Night2 by Laurel McKee