My Wicked Little Lies Part 3

Adrian had been attempting to read for nearly an hour but instead found himself watching his wife. Certainly he'd read King Solomon's Mines when the book had first been published several months ago, but lately he'd felt the need for a bit of adventure, even if it was fict.i.tious. Not that life was dull or boring or tedious. On the contrary, between his duties as earl, his management of the family's finances, business, and properties, and his seat in Parliament, life-his life-was extraordinarily full. Why, he scarcely ever had an unscheduled minute. If a certain restlessness had grown in recent months, perhaps even as long as the last year, it was no doubt to be expected. It had been two years, after all, since his brother Richard had died and Adrian had inherited a t.i.tle and responsibilities he did not expect. Two years since he had married Evie, also unexpected but far more delightful. No doubt every man knew a touch of restlessness after two years of a proper and respectable life.

Evie sighed and again tapped her pen absently on the table. His eyes narrowed slightly. Evelyn Turner Hadley-Att.w.a.ter, the Countess of Waterston, never tapped her pen nor did she heave sighs of aimless frustration. This was not at all like her.

Perhaps she, too, felt a stirring of unrest. He was not so foolish as to think that women, even those who had everything a woman could possibly want, were so different from men as to be immune to boredom. Indeed, Evie's life before they had wed had been somewhat adventurous, what with her travel and social engagements and whatever. Not that they had ever really discussed her past or his, for that matter. He didn't see the point. They had agreed from the first that essentially life had begun when they had met, that nothing before mattered or was at all significant. It was as accurate as it was romantic. His life was empty until she had entered it.

She walks in beauty like the night.

The poet's words flashed through his mind as they had from the beginning. She was the epitome of grace and charm and intelligence, everything he'd ever wanted but hadn't known was possible until her. The poem could have been written with his wife in mind. He'd thought the same from the first moment he'd looked into her brown eyes. The first time he'd heard her laughter across a crowded ballroom. The first time he held her hand in his. Adrian Hadley-Att.w.a.ter-a bit of a rogue when it came to the fairer s.e.x-had been lost the instant Miss Evelyn Turner's gaze had met his and she'd smiled.

Of cloudless climes and starry skies.

Two years later, he was still lost.

But was she? Tonight was the first time he'd noted any difference in her manner, but then would he have noticed? He prided himself on his powers of observation, but he was extremely busy, as was she. It was not uncommon for them to go a day or more with little contact between them save in pa.s.sing at the breakfast table. Business and politics often kept him out late into the night, as did her charitable events. It scarcely mattered. He had no doubt she was as in love with him as he was with her.

Admittedly, it was bothersome when his mind drifted on occasion to the fact that he was not the first man in her bed. But they'd married when she was twenty-seven, and she was, in most respects, a woman of sophistication. And his perfect match. He'd be the worst sort of hypocrite to condemn her for the same sort of activities he'd partaken of in his unmarried days, even if women were held to a higher standard. Still, it had been nice to discover she was not overly experienced although she was most enthusiastic. He bit back a grin. He doubted there was anything to compare to a wife with enthusiasm.

And all that's best of dark and bright ...

He'd had no particular intention to marry. The world was filled with lovely women and they were most enjoyable. Besides, he had reached the age of thirty-six without so much as a broken heart. Indeed, had they never met, it was entirely possible he would never have married at all. Of course, then Richard had died and Evie had come into his life and everything had changed. Restless or not, he was a lucky man.

Meet in her aspect and her eyes.

Her gaze jerked toward him. "Did you say something, darling?"

"Not a thing." He studied her for a moment. "You seem distracted tonight, my dear. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," she said quickly. Too quickly. "I have just fallen behind in my responses." She heaved another sigh, even more heartfelt, as if she were trying to make a point. "I do so hate to fall behind."

"I know." He chuckled but studied her closely. "Is that all?"

"Yes, of course." She favored him with a brilliant smile that nonetheless struck him as the tiniest bit forced. Nonsense perhaps but his instincts had always been right about such things, especially her.

"You do know," he said in an offhand manner, "if there is anything wrong, you can tell-"

"You are a dear sweet man, of course I know that. There is nothing wrong and certainly nothing for you to worry about."

"Ah, well then, my mistake." He smiled and lowered his gaze to the page in front of him. He could feel her staring at him and wondered if she knew that he knew she was not being entirely truthful. It might not be obvious to anyone else but it was to him. There was the vaguest look in her eye, the slightest hint in her voice, and something in the way she sat. No, the Countess of Waterston was definitely hiding something from her husband. The question now was what.

She wasn't the type of woman to hide expenditures or exorbitant bills. Indeed, she took spending money-his money-as her due. The Earl and Countess of Waterson did need to keep up appearances. No one would ever call her frugal but she'd never been especially frivolous in her purchases. He suspected if she ever was, she would not keep it from him as she'd no doubt find it amusing.

It couldn't be an illness of some sort. One could see she was in excellent health by the glow of her skin alone. Besides, she knew full well how Richard's denial of his eroding health had taken a toll on Adrian. Evie would never do that to him.

Could his wife be feeling the same sort of restlessness gripping him of late? The need to do something. Anything. The desire for the unexpected, for a touch of excitement. The odd longing, for once, not to know what was going to happen next.

The thought struck him without warning. Wives who were restless ... A cold hand squeezed his heart. He ignored it. What utter rubbish. His wife was certainly not dallying with another man. Other men's wives perhaps but not his. That was the worst sort of conclusion to leap to and not at all warranted. He trusted her completely, with his life if necessary and certainly with his heart.

He drew a deep breath. Evie had never done anything to make him question either her affection or her fidelity. She was not the type of woman to be led astray. That the tiniest doubt now surfaced was probably more a result of his own current state of unrest rather than anything of a substantial nature on her part. He'd never really known jealousy before yet apparently he was not immune to it. That, too, was distressing-he had thought he was a better, or at least a more rational, sort of man.

"Oh bother," she muttered, and his gaze slipped back to her. She pushed away from the desk and stood. "I'm going to finish this in the morning, which will only put me even more behind, but it can't be helped, I suppose." She brushed an errant lock of hair away from her face and frowned at the need to do so. "You're right, you know."

"I usually am." He chuckled but his heart caught. He forced a casual note to his voice. "About what?"

"I do seem to be distracted this evening. I'm not at all sure why." She frowned. "It could be the weather, I suppose. Do you realize it has snowed every month since October?"

"I had noticed that."

"A foot last month alone. And then the rioting a scant two weeks ago ..." She shook her head. "Those poor people."

"Times are hard," he said simply. "And jobs are scarce."

"It does seem to me that if Parliament spent less time arguing about Ireland and more discussing putting men to work, we would all be better off."

"No doubt. I shall propose it at once."

She raised a brow. "With a rousing speech on the floor of the House of Lords?"

He scoffed. "Where else?"

"You're teasing me now, Adrian, and I don't find it the least bit amusing. Poverty is rampant, children live on the streets and people have no money for food. Something should be done."

"Indeed, something should." He got to his feet.

"And if I could think of something brilliant, even something adequate, a plan to solve all the ills of this country or this empire, I would put it into motion without hesitation."

She nodded in a satisfied manner, but amus.e.m.e.nt gleamed in her eyes. She crossed the room to him. "I know you would."

He pulled her into his arms. "I would try to save the entire world for you if you wished it."

"I know you would, darling. That's one of the reasons why I married you."

"Just one?"

"One of many. Another is that it's not necessary for you to actually save the entire world, only that you would be willing to do so. Besides, you're the Earl of Waterston, you don't have time to save more than a tiny portion of the world." She gave him a quick kiss, then gazed into his eyes. "Darling, if I had wanted a warrior or a savior or someone, oh, I don't know, a man of adventure, I would have married someone adventurous."

"And I'm not adventurous?" he said coolly although the comment was annoying.

"No, of course not. You're reliable and responsible and dependable and honorable."

He stared down at her. "Good G.o.d, I sound dull."

Her eyes widened. "But you're not, not in the least. You're the most fascinating man I know."

"In a reliable and responsible sort of way?"

"Not at all," she said staunchly, then paused. "Well, perhaps. But you are the kind of man one can depend upon. Not merely in times of crisis but each and every day."

"Oh, that sounds much better," he said in a wry manner.

"And you are kind and generous."

"Hmph."

"And most handsome." She smiled. "Did I mention that?"

"No." He leaned closer and brushed his lips along the side of her neck. "I can be adventurous, you know."

"Well, there are certain times ..." She s.h.i.+vered. "Yes, indeed ..."

"And exciting," his lips murmured against her skin. She loved it when he kissed her neck. "I can be exciting."

"Most exciting ..." She swallowed hard. "I believe I shall retire now. Shall I dismiss my maid for the night?"

"Excellent idea." He grinned down at her.

"I thought so." A wicked light shone in her eyes. She pulled out of his arms and started for the door. "Coming?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

She nodded and left the parlor.

He watched her leave, then drew a deep breath. If she was trying to distract him, he would certainly cooperate. He could use a little distraction himself. Besides, it would be wrong not to. After all, he was so reliable and dependable. Although he supposed there were worse things to be considered.

d.a.m.n it all, his wife was restless, and he absolutely refused to think that her boredom was being eased by another man. Still, it would be foolish of him to ignore this entirely. Yes, something was definitely amiss. He started after his wife. In his list of attributes she'd left out determined. He wouldn't rest until he discovered what was wrong.

And prayed it wasn't a man of adventure.

Chapter 4.

This was absurd.

Adrian sat in a hired carriage a discreet distance from the entrance of the British Museum and watched. And waited.

It was, as well, somewhat dishonorable and definitely beneath him. One did not spy on one's wife. Especially when the wife in question had done nothing to arouse suspicion. Oh, certainly, her manner last night had been unusual, and there had been that comment about how she would have married an adventurous man if she had wished. A comment that still rankled. He, no doubt, just imagined a hint of longing in her voice. Why, he could be adventurous if he wished. She had no idea just how adventurous he could be.

And this morning, when he had asked about her day, she had listed all she intended to do but hadn't said a word about visiting the museum. Then later, when he had queried Miss DeRochette, she hadn't mentioned the museum either. Evie lived by her schedule although this could simply have slipped her mind and more than likely did. Admittedly his own mood was such that he could be reading things into her words and behavior that were not present. He would like nothing so much as he would like to be wrong. Pity he was rarely, if ever, wrong.

Regardless, he was behaving like a jealous idiot. He drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee and stared at the broad steps leading to the museum doors. In a rational part of his mind he knew and understood his behavior was ridiculous but knowing did not make it any better. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he'd never imagined he would ever feel jealousy. Now he wondered if it hadn't been there all along, just below the surface, waiting for the right opportunity to raise its wicked head. Regardless, he didn't like this one bit. Not the way he felt, nor his reaction to his unfounded suspicions.

It didn't help matters any that the first time Evie and he had spoken without being in the midst of a crowd of people at a ball or another event, the first time they had spoken alone, had been at the British Museum. They'd arranged to meet here, the one place one could be alone and not be the least bit improper. They had strolled past the remnants of ancient civilizations, the glories of Greece and Rome and Egypt. And surrounded by the past, he'd confirmed what he had already known about his future. About her. They'd talked and laughed and, indeed, joked about any number of younger couples obviously taking advantage of the respectable nature of the museum for relatively private a.s.signations. Not that she was having an a.s.signation now.

d.a.m.nation, he wished his father were still alive. He could certainly use some advice regarding women. His valet-Vincent-had always been something of a sounding board about women and any number of things when Adrian had been unmarried. But Adrian was reluctant to discuss the subject of his wife's possible infidelity with his valet.

Richard, of course, was gone and had never been married anyway. His brother Hugh was a widower, and it seemed somewhat insensitive to speak to Hugh about marital problems. Adrian's youngest brother Sebastian had only recently married and had mucked up the courts.h.i.+p so badly, Adrian couldn't think of a worse person to ask for advice.

One would think growing up in a household with a mother, three sisters, and a female cousin would have made him wise to the ways of women. And he'd always thought he was, with the exception perhaps of mothers and sisters and female cousins. And now wives.

No, he did know his wife. And he was being ridiculous. Whatever was bothering her, she would confide in him eventually. He clenched his jaw, and determination coursed through him. He'd wasted enough time sitting here. And what if Evie should discover him? How on earth would he explain this? She would be offended and hurt and furious and would have every right to be. No, enough was enough.

Whatever the problem was, and indeed, there might not be a problem at all that spring and improved weather wouldn't solve, it would no doubt work itself out. It was only his own boredom that made him think otherwise. Past time to turn his attention to very real problems. He had work of his own to attend to, and he would be late for a meeting if he did not stop this nonsense now. He called an address to the driver and settled back in the seat.

And even if something in the pit of his stomach or the back of his mind screamed all was not right, he would ignore it. His life was far different now than it had been before he'd inherited his t.i.tle, before he had married. Obviously, his instincts were impaired from lack of use.

And obviously, for once, he was wrong.

This was most annoying.

Evelyn absently toyed with the book-shaped locket at her throat and feigned interest in the sculptures from the ancient Parthenon displayed in the Elgin Room. Not that they weren't magnificent. She never failed to marvel at the remarkable skill of the artists who had breathed life into cold marble centuries ago. Regardless of where one stood politically or artistically or historically on the question of where these masterpieces should be housed, there was no disputing their beauty. Usually, Evelyn lost herself in admiration and appreciation of marble so expertly sculpted one could almost see the movement of fabric on bodies frozen between one heartbeat and the next. Today, however, she barely noticed. Besides, Celeste was waiting in her carriage. Both women thought caution being the better part of valor, while Evelyn would go to this meeting alone, Celeste would be nearby, as would Davies, her driver, in the event help was needed.

It had been two years since she'd played this game, and she quite resented having to play it at all. This morning a note had arrived from Max along with a small package containing the locket she was now wearing. The locket would identify her to a courier who would bring her further instructions. It was absurd. Max could have simply sent her instructions directly but it wasn't the manner in which he worked, nor was it the way in which the department worked. It had always seemed rather unnecessary to her, but the philosophy was that the more layers added to contact, the better and safer it was for all concerned. It often meant as well that one hand rarely knew what the other was doing. Such, apparently, was the nature of a clandestine organization run by men. If women had run the department, or the government for that matter, things would no doubt be much more forthright and efficient.

She kept her gaze focused on the frieze depicting the procession of Athenian citizens but, through the corner of her eye, observed the other museum visitors milling about the room, speculating on which one would approach her. It was gratifying to realize she hadn't lost that particular skill. Indeed it did prove useful on occasion at a social event when one was avoiding an overenthusiastic gossip bent on sharing the latest on-dit or an amorous gentleman who refused to accept she had no interest in betraying her husband with any man let alone one who was obnoxious, overbearing, and old enough to be her grandfather.

She resisted the urge to tap her foot impatiently. Now that she was here, she'd prefer to have this over and done with. She would recover the missing file and then, finally and forever, this would be at an end. It wasn't going to be as easy as she had first a.s.sumed. Already today she had committed another of those lies of omission. Which weren't really lies, regardless of what anyone said. Still, when Adrian had asked about her day and she had failed to mention a stop at the museum, it had felt uncomfortably like a lie.

"I beg your pardon," a voice behind her said and she turned. An older gentleman held out a small book. "A young man at the door said you had dropped this."

She glanced at the entry.

"He was on his way out and asked if I would give this to you."

The book cover was precisely the same design as that on the locket. How clever and overly complicated. Layers, of course. "It is mine. How silly of me not to have noticed that I had dropped it." She accepted the book with a smile. "I fear I was absorbed in admiration of the sculptures."

The older man smiled. "Great art will have that effect."

"Indeed it will. You have my grat.i.tude. I would hate to have lost this." She paused. "The gentleman who gave it to you, could you tell me what he looked like? I should like to thank him as well."

"Oh, young, light hair." The man shook his head. "Rather nondescript really."

"Of course he would be," she said under her breath.

"He seemed in somewhat of a hurry. I doubt that you can catch him."

"Then I shall have to be content with giving you alone my thanks." She cast him her brightest smile.

"It was entirely my pleasure." He chuckled. "I do not have the opportunity to do a good deed for a lovely stranger these days. But in my youth ..." His eyes twinkled with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Good day, miss." He nodded and took his leave.

She resisted the urge to open the book and instead slipped it into her bag. It would not do to let her impatience show. After all, one never knew who might be observing her. Apparently, there was much about playing this game she had not forgotten. She forced herself to circle the room in a leisurely manner, stopping to more closely examine one frieze or another and pausing for several minutes, as she always did, at the now headless depiction of the three Fates. Perhaps it was their majesty in spite of their destruction that appealed to her; there was certainly no debating their beauty. Or more likely, it was their mystery that called to something deep inside her. Now, however, another mystery beckoned. She turned and made her way through the museum to the street.

"Well?" Celeste said as soon as Evelyn had settled in her seat and the carriage had started off.

"Well, I was given this." She pulled the book out of her bag.