My Wicked Little Lies Page 2

  “I understand that.” Impatience sounded in her voice. “But none of it explains why you have demanded my presence. Why am I here?”

  “Because you are the only one I can trust,” he said staunchly.

  “Nonsense. You have other agents, far more competent than I, that can certainly handle a minor task like the recovering of a file.” She scoffed. “If I am the only one you can trust, then you have far greater problems than a mere missing file.”

  “And indeed I do.” He paused as if debating his next words. “I suspect the theft of the file was arranged by someone within this organization. The file was requested by the foreign office, or so I was led to believe.” He blew an annoyed breath. “Given multiple layers of bureaucracy, it’s difficult to uncover specifically who requested it without revealing that it has been stolen.”

  She chose her words with care. “It seems to me, if one is concerned with secrecy, putting this kind of information into a single file is rather, well, stupid.”

  “In hindsight perhaps,” he said sharply. “Do not forget this is still a governmental department, and when one’s superiors make a request, one complies without question.”

  She raised a brow. “My, my, we are sensitive about—” A thought struck her and she gasped. “It was stolen from you, wasn’t it?”

  He huffed. “That’s neither here nor there at the moment.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” She tried and failed to hide a grin.

  “It’s not amusing,” he snapped. “I would trust no one else with something of this importance and whoever arranged the theft knew that.” He glared at her. “I was set upon by thugs and rendered unconscious by the use of chloroform.” He shuddered. “Nasty stuff.”

  “And when you woke up?”

  “When I woke up, the file was gone and I was ...”

  “You were?”

  He hesitated.

  “Don’t stop now. If I am to be involved in this, I need to know all of it.”

  “Very well,” he snapped. “I woke up naked in a most disreputable brothel.”

  She choked back a laugh. “As opposed to a reputable brothel?”

  He ignored her. “It was most awkward.”

  “Because you have never been in a brothel before?” she said sweetly.

  “One does not purchase what one has always had for free.”

  She stared at him, then laughed. “You have certainly not changed.”

  “Unfortunately, I have,” he said under his breath. “Lady Waterston.” He leaned forward and met her gaze. “Because you are no longer an agent and because your real name is not included in the records here, you can act without suspicion. If you noticed, I asked you here on a day when few people are in these offices. Those that are have been sent on errands. All to preserve your privacy.” He paused. “In truth, what I need from you is fairly minimal.”

  “I can scarcely go back to being Miss Turner, an unmarried heiress with a penchant for travel and parties. Without the wealth, of course,” she added wryly.

  “No, but you are now Lady Waterston, who is welcome at very nearly any social event.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Your presence would be unremarkable at those events where mine might be noted. In spite of my title and my family connections, I am little more than the head of an unimportant government office concerned with minimally important trade.”

  She sighed. “Go on.”

  “I am close to discovering where the file may be located. All I ask of you is to recover it.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all,” he said quickly although it did seem he hesitated for no more than the beat of his heart. She might have been mistaken and it had been some time since she’d trusted—or needed to trust—her instincts, but instinct was telling her now that he was not being entirely forthright.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He considered her question, obviously deciding how much to reveal. “The file contains the names of the last three men who headed this organization. The first died a few months ago.”

  She raised a brow. “By foul play?”

  “It’s impossible to say. He was elderly and appears to have died in his sleep. But you and I both know how easy it is to make death appear natural.”

  “Only by hearsay.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you recall, I was never in a position where such measures were necessary.”

  “Nor will you be now.” He shook his head. “It could well be coincidence especially since his death was several months ago. But it should not be discounted completely.”

  “Sir’s name is in that file, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “I would think he would wish to handle this.” She thought for a moment. “Was this his idea? To bring me back?”

  “He knows nothing about it.”

  She pulled her brows together. “Don’t you think you should tell him?”

  “I see no need for that.” His gaze met hers. “Sir left the department at very nearly the same time you did.”

  “I see.” Relief again washed through her. She had no desire to resume their correspondence. Sir was a road not taken and such roads were best left in the past. She drew a deep breath. “The days of my slipping into a house in the dead of night are long over,” she warned. “As are my days of eliciting information by means of my charm alone.”

  “Understandable.” He nodded.

  “A certain amount of deceit will no doubt be necessary, but I have never lied to my husband and I do not intend to do so now.”

  “Come now, all women lie to their husbands.”

  “I don’t.” Indignation drew her brows together. “I have never had any need to.”

  “You’ve never hidden a bill from a dressmaker you did not want him to see?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve never said you were going one place when you went somewhere else altogether?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “You’ve never told your husband another gentleman’s flirtatious manner was less than it actually was?”

  “Of course not.” She cast him a pitying look. “You know nothing at all about women. Most of us do not lie as a matter of course. It’s not surprising that you aren’t married.”

  “I know a great deal about women, which is precisely why I am not married. And you all lie, each and every one of you.”

  She ignored him. “You should find a wife. You’re not getting any younger. Fair-haired men do not age well. All that boyish charm and that handsome face of yours will not last forever.”

  He cast her a devilish grin. “And yet, both continue to serve me well.”

  “You haven’t changed at all.” She rose to her feet and he stood. “Mark my words, one day you’re considered dashing and desirable and the next you’re a lecherous old goat.”

  He stared at her curiously. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

  “I have never been happier.”

  “You don’t miss the excitement of the chase? Of unraveling a riddle? Of ferreting out information that will expose a villain?”

  “Not in the least.” She shrugged. “I am sorry if that disappoints you.”

  “And your husband, is he happy as well?”

  “He has never given me reason to believe otherwise.” She smiled at the thought of her husband. Adrian was everything she’d ever wanted. A good man, kind and generous, he carried his responsibilities with ease and could be depended upon without question. That he was tall and handsome and not at all proper and restrained in their bed was an added bonus. And he loved her. What more could a woman want? “I want your assurance you will never call on me again after this. This is my final assignment.”

  “I can’t make that promise.”

  “Max.” A warning sounded in her voice.

  “Very well.” He huffed. “I shall make every effort.”

  “I assume you will contact me with further instructions.”

  He nodded. “Wit
hin the next few days.”

  “Very well.”

  She nodded and turned to leave, then turned back. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “If this ruins my marriage, my life, I will more than likely slit your throat. Or shoot you. Do not forget, I was well trained here. And I am an excellent shot. That I have not shot anyone or never slit a man’s throat does not mean I do not know how or that I will hesitate.” She leaned toward him and met his gaze. “Or perhaps I will simply cut off an appendage that I know is near and dear to you.”

  He winced. “Come now, Eve—”

  “You have my word, Max. My husband knows little about my past. If he learns—”

  “And you have my word,” he said firmly. “Your husband will not learn of your past association with this office from me.” He smiled with something that might possibly have been genuine affection. “You have trusted me in the past. Trust me on this.”

  She studied him for a moment, then heaved a frustrated sigh. “I suppose I have no choice.”

  “Truly, Evelyn, I would never do anything to destroy your happiness.”

  “See that you don’t.” She leveled him a hard look and sent a silent prayer heavenward that he hadn’t already.

  Chapter 2

  “Well, this could be somewhat awkward,” Celeste DeRochette said calmly, peering over the spectacles she wore for effect rather than necessity.

  “Somewhat?” Evelyn scoffed. “At the very least it’s somewhat awkward. If I’m lucky, it will only be somewhat awkward. Somewhat awkward is the best I can hope for.”

  “He’s not stupid, you know, your husband, that is.”

  “I know that.” Evelyn sighed. “It would be much easier if he were.” She paced the width of her sitting room.

  Celeste was silent for a long moment. “You don’t want to do this at all, do you?”

  “Absolutely not.” Evelyn brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Ha! Just another indication of how distraught she was. Her locks did not stray from where she placed them. Ever. “Apparently, I have no choice. I thought it was over, in the past, behind me.”

  “You don’t miss it, even a little?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Surely, there’s a moment now and then?”

  “Not a moment, not an instant—never!”

  “Of course you don’t.” Celeste nodded in a thoughtful manner. As always, Evelyn wasn’t entirely certain what the other woman was thinking.

  Celeste had played the part of Evelyn’s companion through her years of working for the department. When Evelyn had decided to leave and marry Adrian, Celeste had left with her and now served as Evelyn’s secretary. And then, as now, she was her closest friend. “Do you?”

  “No.” Celeste shook her head, then grimaced. “Perhaps on occasion, when life seems a bit ... dull.”

  “My life is never dull,” Evelyn said staunchly.

  Celeste raised a brow.

  “Never.” Her eyes widened with realization. “Is yours?”

  “My dear friend. This is the life you were born for.” Celeste chose her words with care. “You are the Countess of Waterston now. You have an endless number of social and charitable obligations as well as Adrian’s enormous family to keep you occupied. Whereas I ...” She shrugged. “I am your employee.”

  “You are my dearest friend.”

  “And for now ...” Celeste cast her a warm smile. “That is enough.”

  Evelyn considered her curiously for a long moment and wondered if she’d seen her at all in recent years. Although not being seen, or rather, not being noticed, was what Celeste strived for. She wore her dark hair in a tight, stern knot on the back of her head. Her spectacles hid her startling violet eyes. Coupled with the drab, nondescript clothes she typically donned, one’s gaze tended to pass right over her. But on any number of occasions, Evelyn had noticed the gazes of gentlemen in particular jerking back to Celeste for a second look. Celeste had always been good at making herself appear to be someone she wasn’t. Evelyn had long thought her friend was a woman in hiding. Indeed, Celeste DeRochette was not her real name but she had never shared her true name with Evelyn nor had Evelyn ever asked. Privacy was a boundary of friendship neither woman had ever crossed. Nor had they needed to. Evelyn would trust Celeste with her life.

  They never would have become friends, they never would have met at all, if not for the department, although they had much in common. Both women had been orphaned at an early age, but Evelyn’s father was a viscount and she had been left the ward of a distant relative, Sir George Hardwell. Sir George had had no desire to be responsible for a child and had had little interest in her. He had ensured her education at boarding schools in England and abroad and had provided a minimal allowance when she had finished her schooling thanks to a small trust, left by her parents, now long depleted, administered by Sir George’s solicitor. While she had dutifully corresponded with him through the years, he had rarely responded and eventually she had stopped writing altogether. Evelyn had often thought it odd that, at one time, the two most significant men in her life were two she had never met in person. She had long suspected it was through Sir George that the department had become aware of her and her circumstances although she had nothing to base that suspicion on. It was a feeling, nothing more.

  Celeste was the daughter of an actress. She, too, had been orphaned, or perhaps abandoned, Evelyn wasn’t clear on that point, when very young. She was passed from family to family until she followed her mother’s path and found first a home in the theater and then the department. Evelyn thought it something of a pity she hadn’t continued on the stage. An expert at adopting accents, be they refined or common, Celeste was also brilliant at changing her appearance and making one believe she was someone she wasn’t. Valuable skills to have when one worked for a clandestine government department yet, for the most part, wasted when one was a social secretary to a countess.

  “Good Lord.” Evelyn stared at her friend. “I’ve been dreadfully selfish.”

  “Indeed you have and I have permitted you to be.” Celeste met her gaze directly. “But do not think for a moment I would be here if I did not wish to be. It’s been most ... refreshing. It’s not a difficult job, you know. Keeping your schedule, planning your social events, assisting your correspondence. And you do overpay me.” A twinkle shone in Celeste’s eyes. “Why, it’s almost like being on holiday.”

  Evelyn ignored her amusement. “But is it enough?”

  “You could always pay me more.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “As I said, it is at the moment.” Celeste shrugged. “I make no promises about the future, however.”

  “Good. And I make no apologies for that bit of selfishness.” Celeste was as close to her as any sister might have been. Indeed, Evelyn considered her family and they did look a bit like sisters. They were of a similar height and figure although Celeste’s hair was nearly black whereas Evelyn’s was a determined brown. Her eyes were hazel, brown really, her friend’s violet. Evelyn considered Celeste the lovelier of the two women, which bothered her not at all. They were nearly the same age as well. Celeste had turned thirty some months ago and Evelyn’s thirtieth birthday was within a few weeks. “I would hate to lose you.”

  “I assure you, you will never lose me,” Celeste said firmly. “Even if the day comes that I decide this is not how I wish to spend the rest of my life, we will always be close friends.”

  Still, the very idea of not having Celeste around was most distressing. Evelyn loved Adrian’s family but Celeste was hers, the only family she had. She adopted a casual tone. “Adrian still has one remaining unwed brother, you know.”

  “The barrister?”

  Evelyn nodded. “He’s very nice and quite handsome.”

  Celeste laughed. “So you are matchmaking now?”

  “Not at all.” Evelyn paused. “Although it’s not a bad idea. There are worse ways to spend the rest of your life than as t
he wife of a nice, handsome, ambitious barrister. Who will no doubt one day be a judge.”

  “And will therefore need a wife,” Celeste said thoughtfully.

  “He doesn’t need one but a suitable wife can certainly be an aide to any man with ambition.”

  “And would I be a suitable wife?”

  “You can be anything you wish,” Evelyn said firmly.

  “It’s a role I have yet to play.” A considering note sounded in Celeste’s voice.

  “A role you were born to play.”

  “I doubt that. Regardless ...” Celeste shook her head. “Your brother-in-law has never shown the slightest bit of interest in me.”

  “Perhaps because he has never seen you as who you really are.”

  “Perhaps. And perhaps when I meet a gentleman who makes me want to be completely candid and forthright and all those sorts of things, then I will indeed marry.” Celeste studied her with amusement. “You are simply offering up your brother-in-law as a sacrificial lamb. Were I to marry him, we would truly be family.”

  Evelyn gasped in mock indignation. “I would never encourage your marriage to suit my own purposes. That would indeed be selfish.” She grinned. “But it is an excellent idea.”

  “It is an idea, the excellence of it remains to be seen.” Celeste pinned her with a firm look. “But you, my dear, have changed the subject.”

  “It’s not a subject I wish to discuss. Or to think about.”

  “And in this, too, you have no choice.” Celeste’s brows drew together. “What happens now?”

  “Max said he has an idea as to the location of the file. He will contact me with instructions.” Evelyn resumed pacing the room.

  “So you wait?”

  “Apparently.”

  “I see.” Celeste watched her for a moment. “Patience has never been one of your virtues.”

  “Now that I have agreed to do this—although agreed is not the right word.” Evelyn huffed. “Coerced is more accurate.”

  “You’d prefer to get on with it.”

  “Exactly.” Evelyn nodded. “From the moment I left Max’s office, I have felt that my entire life was in some sort of limbo. As if I were a leaf blown onto a pond. Too wet to blow away and not saturated enough to sink to the bottom. Suspended on the surface of the water, waiting to blow away or to sink.”