My Wicked Little Lies Read online

  “Now then.” She plucked his glass from his hand and passed his glass and hers to a waiter. “I should very much like to be swept off my feet again.”

  “Here? In front of everyone?” He shook his head. “That would be most improper. And I do think our hosts would object.” He paused. “If we were discovered. If not ...”

  She laughed. “I was speaking of another dance, darling, and you well know it.” She took his arm and led him back to the dance floor. He took her hand in his and she leaned close and spoke softly into his ear. “But later, I shall sweep you off your feet.”

  His brow rose. “And you claim I am the one with the wicked streak.”

  “We are well matched.”

  They danced two more sets, and while Evelyn now paid attention to every word her husband said, she also took the opportunity to study the ballroom. She’d been here once before but had no idea where the library was. In the past, she would have been provided with the plans for the house. No matter. It was simple enough to ask a servant for directions. Such a query wouldn’t be considered unusual. Not that a servant would question a guest under any circumstances. But it was not at all uncommon, at a gathering of this size, for guests to wander from the ballroom, out of curiosity or in search of a moment of privacy or for a prearranged meeting for one purpose or another. If discovered, she would simply explain she was curious to see Lord Dunwell’s collection as she had been told it was quite exceptional. Not that she knew what his lordship collected or indeed if he collected anything at all, but most gentlemen of her acquaintance did so. Why, even Adrian had a small but valuable collection of ancient Greek coins.

  “Isn’t that your cousin Portia?” she asked when the second dance drew to a close. She nodded toward the far side of the room. Portia’s parents had died when she was very young and she’d been taken in by the Hadley-Attwaters. Adrian’s mother considered Portia every bit as much her child as she did Adrian, his brothers, and his sisters.

  Adrian nodded. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised. No doubt Mother is here somewhere as well.” He chuckled. “She does not give up easily.”

  He took her arm and they headed toward his cousin. Lady Waterston’s determination to see each of her children happily wed was an ongoing topic of discussion within the family and most amusing to those siblings who were already married. The dowager countess had a list of who should be wed next and she concentrated her matchmaking efforts on that unfortunate child. Portia, widowed three years ago, was currently at the top of the list and had found it necessary to flee to Italy this past Christmas to escape her aunt’s efforts.

  Portia spotted them and waved.

  They made their way toward her. Adrian leaned close to his wife and spoke softly. “Do you think she might have met someone in Italy?”

  “Surely she would have mentioned something of that magnitude,” Evelyn said. They’d seen Portia only once since her return, and that was at the wedding of Adrian’s youngest brother, Sebastian. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason really. Just an odd impression I had when we last saw her.”

  “Portia has never been known for her ability to keep secrets.”

  “No, you’re right.” A thoughtful note sounded in Adrian’s voice. “Portia would certainly have said something.” He chuckled. “If only to keep Mother from introducing her to yet another eligible bachelor.”

  “Good evening, Adrian. Evelyn, how wonderful to see you.” Portia kissed Evelyn’s cheek and spoke low into her ear. “Save me.”

  Evelyn widened her eyes. “From what?”

  A waiter handed them each a glass of champagne. Portia downed hers in scarcely more than a swallow. “Aunt Helena, of course.” She turned to Adrian. “Your mother is in rare form tonight, Cousin. Every time I turn around, she is introducing me to yet another candidate for my hand. All of whom seem to think the way to my heart is by stepping on my feet and clutching me entirely too tightly in the guise of dancing.” Portia lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “One more dance and I daresay I shall be crippled for life. As my favorite cousin, I beg of you to rescue me.”

  “Your favorite, you say?” He eyed her skeptically. “I thought Sebastian was your favorite?”

  Portia huffed. “Sebastian is my favorite youngest male cousin. You are my favorite oldest male cousin.”

  He bit back a smile. “And Hugh?”

  “Hugh is my favorite ...” She searched for the right word. “Barrister cousin, yes, that’s it.” Desperation sounded in her voice. “Now will you help me?”

  “What do you want me to do?” Adrian said cautiously. No doubt growing up with seven siblings had taught him not to agree to anything they asked without sufficient information.

  “Would you be so good as to drive me home?” She peered past them into the crowd. “Now if you please. Before Aunt Helena returns with yet another victim in tow.” She shuddered. “I have had quite enough.”

  “I am sorry, Portia.” Sympathy coursed through Evelyn. “But we have scarcely been here any time at all. Leaving now would be considered most impolite.”

  “Nonsense.” Portia scoffed. “You don’t even like Lady Dunwell. Not that I blame you,” she added quickly.

  “If you could manage to survive for, oh, say another hour or so ...” Adrian glanced at his wife.

  Evelyn nodded. That should give her enough time. “That would be sufficient, I think. Another hour wouldn’t make it appear as though we were eager to leave.”

  “Not that we aren’t,” Adrian muttered, then smiled at his cousin. “And then we would be delighted to see you home.”

  Portia groaned. “In another hour or so, your mother will have me married with a dozen children.”

  Adrian choked back a laugh.

  Portia glared. “It’s not the least bit amusing.”

  “Of course not, dear.” Evelyn patted the younger woman’s arm.

  Adrian cleared his throat. “My apologies.” He studied his cousin. “I thought you wanted to marry again.”

  “Indeed, I do. But I wish to marry someone who is not thrust at me. As if he were a canary and I was a ... a ... a hungry cat!” Indignation sounded in her voice. “I am perfectly capable of finding a husband on my own.”

  “Not thus far,” Adrian said under his breath.

  Evelyn cast him a chastising frown.

  Portia ignored him, her brow furrowed in thought. “However, this is an exceptionally large and pretentious house. Perhaps I can find a peaceful place to, well, hide until you are ready to depart.”

  Excellent! Evelyn nodded. “And the least I can do is help you find a suitable spot.”

  “A parlor perhaps?” Portia thought for a moment. “Surely they have a music room? I know there’s a conservatory. Or a library?”

  “No,” Evelyn said quickly. “You never know who might show up in a library. But a parlor is an excellent idea.”

  “It’s rather cowardly, though, don’t you think?” Adrian said mildly. “Hiding from Mother, that is.”

  “Yes. And I don’t care.” Portia glared at her cousin. “Thus far this evening I have been presented to one gentleman who was not looking so much for a wife as a mother for his herd of children and another who, well, let us simply say he was not to my liking.”

  “Judging on appearances, Portia?” Adrian shook his head in a disappointed manner. “I never imagined you were that shallow.”

  “Stop teasing her, dear,” Evelyn said under her breath. The banter and teasing—some of which struck her as altogether too pointed—between the Hadley-Attwater siblings never failed to amaze her. It was as if they could say very nearly anything to one another yet it never affected their feelings for each other. She quite envied them. She hoped her children would share that same sort of bond.

  “I simply want someone who stands taller than my chin,” Portia said sharply. “I do not think I am asking for the moon.”

  “Perhaps not.” Amusement gleamed in Adrian’s eyes.

  “As for my sha
llow nature, I am more than willing to debate that with you at another time.” Portia cast Evelyn a pleading look. “Now, I think we should—”

  “Too late, I fear,” Adrian said, gazing over Portia’s head.

  Portia groaned. Evelyn peered around her. Helena was bearing down on them, accompanied by a fair-haired gentleman. Well, well. Portia certainly couldn’t complain about the appearance of this candidate. He appeared to be an appropriate age and was most dashing as well.

  “Adrian!” Helena beamed at her son. “And Evelyn. So lovely to see you both. I had no idea you would be here tonight.”

  “Nor did we, Mother.” Adrian kissed her cheek.

  “Nonetheless, I am most gratified to see you here.” Helena lowered her voice. “It’s a most influential gathering.”

  “Helena.” Evelyn cast a pointed glance at the gentleman standing patiently a step behind the older woman.

  “Oh dear, where are my manners?” Helena sighed. “The bane of growing older, I suppose.” She turned to the victim. “May I present my son and daughter-in-law, Lord and Lady Waterston. And this”—a flourish sounded in Helena’s voice—“is my niece, Lady Redwell. Portia, this is Mr. Sayers.”

  “Ah, yes.” Mr. Sayers took Portia’s hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. It was as polished as it was flattering. Amusement quirked his lips. “The widow.”

  Portia smiled weakly. “I see my aunt has been talking to you.”

  “Oh my, yes.” Satisfaction rang in Helena’s voice. “It seems I went to school with Mr. Sayers’s mother. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to remember her, but then it was a very long time ago. Once again, you have my apologies, Mr. Sayers.”

  “None are necessary, Lady Waterston,” he said smoothly. “As you said, it was a very long time ago.”

  “Still, it is impolite and most annoying.” Helena sighed. “My memory is not what it used to be. Yet another distressing result of the passing years.”

  “Better than the alternative,” Adrian murmured.

  Helena cast her son a disparaging look.

  “Lady Redwell.” Mr. Sayers turned to Portia. “I would be most grateful if you would do me the honor of joining me in a dance.”

  “What an excellent idea.” A satisfied twinkle sparked in Helena’s eyes. “You have scarcely danced all evening.”

  Adrian coughed.

  Portia hesitated, then smiled. “I would be delighted.”

  Mr. Sayers nodded to the others and escorted Portia to the floor.

  “You really should stop doing that to her, Mother,” Adrian said mildly, his gaze following his cousin and Mr. Sayers.

  “She’ll thank me for it one day.” Helena studied the couple with satisfaction. “Don’t you agree, Evelyn?”

  Evelyn truly liked her mother-in-law. In many ways, she was the only mother Evelyn had ever really known. While she was confident Helena returned her affection, it did seem wise to agree with her on minor matters. She bit her lip. “One day perhaps.”

  Helena glanced at her. “But not today?”

  Evelyn shook her head. “Definitely not today.”

  “I wouldn’t wager on tomorrow either,” Adrian added. “You really don’t remember his mother?”

  Helena sighed. “Not at all. I was tempted to lie to him and tell him ‘Of course, I remember your mother! Darling girl. And quite clever as well.’ But that would have been dishonest as not even his name sounds familiar.” She paused. “Well, perhaps it does, but it’s not an uncommon name. Besides, her name wouldn’t have been Sayers then anyway.” She sighed again, this time much more dramatically, and directed her gaze toward Evelyn. “I am unfailingly honest, you know.”

  Adrian choked.

  Evelyn had witnessed any number of occasions when her mother-in-law had, at the very least, bent the truth. She raised a brow. “Unfailingly?”

  “Yes.” Helena nodded. “When I am honest, I am unfailingly so.”

  Evelyn exchanged glances with her husband.

  “You are both lucky that you are my favorites.” Helena huffed. “Now, as I was saying, I can’t remember his mother at all and I’m very good at that sort of thing. Admittedly, I can never seem to find where I last put my gloves, but forty years ago is quite clear. Or it always has been.”

  She turned her attention back to the dancers. “I’m not nearly as indiscriminate as Portia might lead you to believe, you know. I have a list of very nearly all the eligible gentlemen in London. It is only coincidence that several of them are here this evening.” She fluttered her fan in front of her face. “Admittedly, I am not one to let a turn of luck go to waste.”

  “How fortunate for Portia.” Adrian smiled.

  “Indeed it is,” Helena said firmly. “Unfortunately, I fear she cannot see past the fact that I am the one bringing them to her attention or her to theirs. Why, the first gentleman I introduced her to was not unattractive and charming as well. And Portia quite likes children. And the second, while admittedly a bit short, is known to be most kind and amusing and has a significant fortune.”

  “I am certain Portia appreciates your efforts,” Evelyn said.

  “You are a dear girl but it’s obvious Portia does nothing of the kind.” She squared her shoulders. “No matter. She will indeed thank me one day.” Helena met Evelyn’s gaze and chuckled. “But not today.”

  Evelyn laughed.

  “Now then.” Helena glanced around the ballroom. “I see that charming Lord Compton is alone over there. I should say good evening to him.”

  “Don’t you think he’s a little too old for Portia?” Adrian asked.

  “My goodness, yes. He is entirely too old. For Portia.” She flashed them her son’s wicked smile. “Adrian. Evelyn.” She nodded and took her leave.

  “You have a unique and interesting family.” Evelyn’s gaze followed Helena making her way across the room.

  “It’s frightening, isn’t it?” he murmured.

  She smiled wryly. “It’s rarely dull.”

  “One never knows what to expect next.”

  “I beg your pardon, Lord Waterston?” a voice said behind them.

  Adrian turned and nodded. “Good evening, Lord Huntly.”

  “Lady Waterston.” The younger man nodded toward her, then directed his attention back to Adrian. “A few of us are discussing the Irish question, and we were wondering as to your opinion on the latest developments.”

  “Now?” Adrian shook his head. “I don’t know that this is either the time or the place.”

  “And yet,” Evelyn said, “I could swear I have heard you say on more than one occasion that some of the best discussions of political issues occur at social events rather than the hallowed halls of Westminster.”

  “A word of advice to you, Lord Huntly.” Adrian directed his words to the peer but his gaze remained on his wife. “Never marry a woman with a good memory. Failing that, watch carefully what you say to her.”

  Lord Huntly chuckled. “I shall remember, sir.”

  “Very well then.” Adrian met his wife’s gaze. “As this is at your urging, I assume you do not mind my abandoning you.” A wicked light of an entirely different sort flashed in his eyes. “Unless, as you have never been reticent to share your opinions, you should like to join us.”

  “As enticing as you make it sound, and as much as I do enjoy a rousing debate, I believe I shall leave you gentlemen to your own devices. Besides ...” She glanced around the room. “There are any number of people here I should like to speak with. Why, there’s Lady Cavert and Mrs. Wellbourne. And your cousin may yet need my assistance.” She smiled in a wicked manner of her own. “As may Lord Compton.”

  “Are you sure?” Adrian studied her.

  “Well, he is probably capable of taking care of himself. . .” She laughed. “Of course I am. Now go.” She cast him a reassuring smile. “You may rejoin me later.”

  “I shall count the minutes.” Adrian turned to Lord Huntly. “Apparently, I am at your disposal.”


  “Excellent, sir.” Lord Huntly beamed at Evelyn. “You have my gratitude, Lady Waterston.”

  She waved off his comment. “Not at all.”

  “We are gathered in the card room, my lord.” Lord Huntly started off. Adrian cast her a resigned look and followed after the younger man. “I cannot tell you how appreciative I, well, all of ...”

  If she were a more suspicious sort, she would think Lord Huntly’s arrival was entirely too convenient. But as much as she knew better than to trust Max completely, she was fairly certain she was on her own this evening. Still, someone somewhere was obviously watching over her. Adrian would be occupied for a good quarter of an hour if not longer. Perhaps there was an ancient druid god that protected women who did not wish to lie to their husbands. As she hadn’t. There were people here she did indeed wish to speak to.

  Evelyn circled the room, stopping to chat briefly with an acquaintance here or listen to the latest gossip there. By the time she reached the ballroom’s grand entry, she had learned the ladies’ receiving room was in the same wing as the library. And that Lord Dunwell did indeed have a collection of antique swords displayed on his library wall. Swords? She scoffed silently. Men were certainly transparent creatures.

  Evelyn headed in the direction of the ladies’ receiving room and the library beyond. All was going entirely too smoothly thus far, but she knew better than to be too confident. Too much confidence inevitably led to carelessness. Still, she sent a silent prayer of thanks toward ancient druid gods or anyone else who might be listening.

  And couldn’t help wonder if a naked dance of gratitude under the stars might be a small enough price to pay for success.

  Chapter 6

  What was she up to?

  Adrian narrowed his eyes and watched his wife leave the ballroom. He’d finished his discussion sooner than he’d expected and obviously sooner than Evie had planned as well. She appeared unhurried, calm, even serene. To an unsuspecting observer, it would look as though Evie were simply off to view the rare orchids Lord Dunwell had in his conservatory. Or perhaps she was curious about the new portrait of Lady Dunwell painted by Mr. Sargent hanging in the gallery. Adrian had been thinking about having his wife’s portrait painted, and he did like the American’s work, even if some of it was scandalous.