My Wicked Little Lies Part 26

"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 b.a.l.l.s and picnic with you in public parks. And I want you by my side on the day I breathe my last."

"Goodness, Max," she said weakly. "All that?"

"All that and more. I want you to be the mother of my children." His tone hardened. "And I want to be the father to your children."

"It does tend to work better that way."

His eyes narrowed. "You know what children I'm talking about."

"I should have expected you would not let that go." She pulled out of his arms, spotted her undergarments, and crossed the room to collect them. "I knew it was a mistake to mention them." She pulled her chemise on over her head.

"Why was it a mistake?" His brows drew together. "I rather like children, you know. I was a child once myself."

"Once?"

He ignored her. "You should have told me about them."

"What? And keep you from the joy of solving the mystery yourself?" She continued to dress as he talked. "I knew you would although I had thought you would be too distracted by that file business to turn your attention to this so quickly. How is that situation?"

"There is nothing new in regards to the file. And you are changing the subject."

"But I do it so well." She wrapped her corset around her midsection and turned her back to him to enable him to a.s.sist her. It struck her that it was the sort of thing a husband might do for a wife. "Very well, then. Do tell me what you have discovered."

He stepped closer and started tightening her laces. "What I have learned is that some two years ago, around the time you allegedly left the department, which I am now seeing in an entirely different light, by the way."

"Are you?" She bit back a smile.

"I am indeed." He tugged at the laces. "Upon reflection it now strikes me that, while I was prepared to convince you to leave the department to be at Evelyn's side should she need you, little persuasion was necessary. I had always thought you liked, no, reveled in this life of secrecy and danger and triumphs that are never made public."

"It was great fun," she murmured.

"Instead of objecting, if I recall correctly, you thought it was a grand idea. You said ..." He tugged again. "It was time to have a more settled kind of life although, I must confess, I had never thought of you as the type of woman who wished for settled."

"We all have our secrets, Max."

"Apparently. As I was saying, that is, when you, for lack of a better word, inherited five small children, three girls and two boys. Now ranging in age from four to eight."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "And do you know their names as well?"

"Of course I do," he said, giving her laces one last tug, then tying them tight. "Beth, Kate, Wills, Emily, and Daniel." He finished with her laces, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "You do know I have four brothers and two sisters?"

She nodded.

"I have always wanted a large family." He paused. "Five seems an excellent place to start."

"Do you know about their mother?"

"From what I have been able to discover ..." He paused and she braced herself. "It seems she might have been your sister."

"In many ways she was." She pulled her thoughts together. She had never told this story, not even to Evelyn, never thought she would. Now she wondered if she had mentioned the children because she wanted this man to know. Perhaps it was a test of sorts. Of trust possibly. Or love. She drew a deep breath. "When I was a child, after my mother died, I was pa.s.sed from one family to another. Some might have been relations, I really don't know."

"I'm sorry." Genuine sympathy sounded in his voice although she was sure he already knew this about her background.

"Don't be. It was far better than being on the streets. Often, it was no better than being a servant. But the last family I was with, they lived in a village an hour or so from London." She rested her head back against his shoulder, and his arms tightened around her. "They were very kind. They had three children of their own but that didn't stop them from taking in the rest of us. Altogether there were eleven children in that tiny cottage." She smiled at the memory. "There was little money but it was the happiest time of my life.

"Laura was their daughter and my age. We were very close, much like sisters, until I left to try my hand in the theater and she married." She paused to collect her thoughts. "They're all gone now. Her parents died, oh, some ten years past and her brothers were killed, one in Africa the other in India. Laura and I had lost contact with one another, but a little over two years ago, I received a letter from her through one of the theaters where I had once performed.

"I went to see her, of course. She was in a dreadful state." Even now, the memory of the hovel where Laura and her children resided threatened to overwhelm her. "Her husband had died a few months earlier. She was ill and knew she hadn't much time left. Days, as it turned out. Daniel was only two, Beth was six. She asked me to take care of her children when she died."

"And you have," he said quietly.

"In some ways it's the repayment of a debt but it's more than that." She thought for a moment. "I remember her parents once saying children should not be tossed away like so much rubbish. I would have been thrown away if not for them." Her tone hardened. "I could not let that happen to Laura's children."

"So, now you lease a modest house in Chelsea with a small staff to care for the children. You spend all you earn on their support. And on those nights that you are not with me, you are with them."

"You are clever, Max." She twisted in his arms to face him.

"Clever enough to know what I want."

"You only want marriage because you can't have it." She pushed out of his arms and looked for her skirts.

"I can have it and I will."

"Then you should find someone more acceptable to your family, your friends, your position." She located her skirts and stepped into them.

"I don't want someone more acceptable, I want you."

"What a way you have with words, Max," she muttered, pulling up her skirts.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Celeste, I don't care what anyone else thinks. I want you and I want you as my wife."

"Max-"

"I have been with no one but you, nor have I wanted anyone but you, for three years." He glared. "That alone should be evidence of my intentions."

"Max-"

"I know I just mentioned marriage recently but I have been thinking about this for some time now. I am tired of"-he waved at his room-"of living my life alone." He studied her. "I am quite well off financially, you know. I am well able to support a fine house and a wife and more than five children. I have a substantial inheritance I have yet to touch save for some sound investments. In truth, I could be considered a wealthy man."

"Oh, well, then, if you are rich, I should marry you at once," she snapped and continued dressing.

"I'm not saying you should marry me because I have money." He glared. "But because you love me. You admitted it a few minutes ago."

"And when I did so, your response, if I recall correctly, was good!"

"Because it was good to know, finally, after all this time, that you love me! I was glad, and good seemed appropriate." He huffed. "I would hate to be in love alone."

She narrowed her eyes.

"I love you. There I said it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And you ..." He grabbed her and pulled her back into his embrace. "You want that, too."

She shook her head. "Max-"

"There's no need for an answer." He pulled her tighter against him and kissed her hard and fast. And took her breath away. "I said I wouldn't ask until I knew I would get the answer I wanted. Now." He released her and stepped back. "You should be on your way."

"Yes, I should."

He moved to the window and looked out. "Your cab is waiting."

"Thank you."

"But one day soon, Celeste DeRochette, I will not send you home because one day soon your home will be with me." His smile belied the serious look in his eye. "Married or not."

"Wicked man."

His laughter trailed behind her as she closed the door and she grinned. If nothing else, the man was amusing. No, he was much more than amusing. He was ... all she'd ever wanted but never dared to hope for. Even if one didn't consider his fortune or position, he was still the kind of man women dreamed of. He was clever and kind and funny, and she could not think of anyone she would rather spend her life with. Not that she had ever truly thought she would marry at all.

She stepped into the carriage and settled back for the brief ride home. Was she being unfair to him? Or to herself? Was he brave enough, strong enough, to marry a woman his family and friends considered beneath him? Wasn't that the surest way to destroy what they had? She'd never had her heart broken before; she had always guarded against being hurt. Could she trust Max with her heart? With the rest of her life? With her children?

With every turn of the carriage wheel, she wondered at the very idea of being married to the man she loved. Of living together in the same house with her children-their children.

And wondered as well if it was his courage she questioned or her own.

Adrian wasn't the only one who had difficulty sleeping alone.

Evelyn tossed and turned and couldn't get all that had occurred tonight-and worse, all that hadn't-out of her head. Blast it all, she wished Celeste had been here when she'd returned home and not out wherever it was she went at night. At some point, her dearest friend was going to have to trust her with her secrets. It would have been nice to discuss the evening with someone rational. Evelyn hadn't felt even remotely rational since Max had demanded her return to the department. She did wish the b.l.o.o.d.y man would come up with something solid in the search for the file. Waiting was more difficult than any kind of action and preyed on her nerves.

Then, of course, there was Adrian. She had been within moments of forgiving him and throwing herself bodily into his arms. Blasted man did that to her and had from the first time they'd met. It was all well and good to talk about soul mates, but in reality she truly was incomplete without him. They were halves of a whole. Even after they had heard Bianca's latest gossip and she had realized his bursting in on Beryl and Lord Radington was public knowledge and even after his sisters had recognized the monumental sin that had been committed, she had still considered returning home tonight. After all, he had been most charming at the beginning of the evening. And whether he noticed or not, he certainly had ignited that spark of desire within her.

She had been entirely truthful when she'd told him she didn't expect him to be charming all the time. But tonight, it was as if they'd gone back to the first days of their meeting when he was indeed charming and romantic. Not that he wasn't always fairly charming and somewhat romantic, but they had been married for two full years and things between them had become more comfortable than romantic; he was more affable than charming. And she was ... content. But tonight it had been as if he were trying to make her fall in love all over again. And she was.

She sat up, punched her pillow, much harder than was necessary, then flopped back down. Not that it would make any difference. Her husband apparently thought his cause had been lost thanks to the conversation at dinner. She had hoped he would insist on driving her back to her house, which would naturally lead to him making improper advances in the carriage, which she had been fully prepared to subtly encourage. And in the throes of increasing desire, she would scarcely notice that he had the driver take them to their house instead of her house. Indeed, she had suspected it would take hours of bliss in his bed before she would realize where they were. Then, after chastising him soundly for taking advantage of her pa.s.sion-drugged state, she would relent. After all, as she was already home and in his bed ... And her legs would once again entwine with his, his naked body would heat hers, the feel of his hands exploring and caressing and teasing would take her to a place of sheer sensation. His mouth pressed to hers, their breath mingling, their tongues tangled ... The taste of him on her lips, the smell of him surrounding her, the feel of him moving inside her...

Good Lord. She groaned and rolled over. What was wrong with the man? Right now they could be, should be, together. Surely he realized he'd had her very nearly in the palm of his hand before dinner. He was not a man to give up easily, yet after the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies and the family had begun to take their leave, he'd said he had matters to discuss with Hugh. But he had suggested he escort her to the masquerade. She agreed and then he had, pleasantly enough, bade her good night, looked for just a moment as if he wished to kiss her again, then directed their driver to take her to her house. Why hadn't he realized that the evening as she had imagined it would have allowed them both a certain measure of victory? She would have come home without feeling that she had surrendered, and he could have savored at least a semblance of victory. d.a.m.n it all, she wanted him to win her!

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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 circ.u.mstances.

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.

If 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 d.u.c.h.ess of Roxborough. The d.u.c.h.ess 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 gla.s.s of champagne from a pa.s.sing 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 peac.o.c.k 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 circ.u.mstances 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 m.u.f.fling 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 p.r.i.c.k 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 circ.u.mstances, not realizing someone's ident.i.ty was something of a compliment. She shrugged in a helpless manner. "My apologies but I have no idea who you are."