“It gets worse.” She sighed and met her friend’s gaze. “Lord and Lady Dunwell are having a reception tomorrow night for the Spanish ambassador, a distant relative of the Spanish royal family, I believe. Nonetheless, we had decided not to attend.”
“Oh?” Celeste raised a brow. “I was certain I had sent an acceptance of the invitation.”
“Yes, well, we had planned to beg off.” Evelyn shrugged. “Send our regrets with some plausible explanation. Adrian is not at all fond of Dunwell. He finds him pompous and obnoxious and overbearing. And Lady Dunwell has never been one of my favorites. She has never gotten over losing Adrian although he says he had no real interest in her. Now, however, we shall have to attend.”
“How will you explain your change of heart?”
“I’ll think of something.” Evelyn returned her attention to Maxwell’s note. “He adds here that his information might not be accurate.” She raised her gaze to meet her friend’s. “And isn’t that just bloody well perfect.”
“Lady Waterston.” Celeste gasped in mock dismay. “Such language.”
“My language is the least of my worries,” Evelyn said sharply. “I am about to search a man’s library, which probably means a locked desk—”
Celeste scoffed. “A minor difficulty.”
“In the midst of a reception with any number of distinguished guests and the Spanish ambassador as well as my husband.” She huffed. “Damnation.”
“Speaking of your husband ...” Celeste’s manner was cautious.
“Yes?”
“And my employer.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “I know who he is.”
“I’m not entirely certain but ...”
“What is it?”
Celeste paused as if choosing her words. “When we arrived, I noticed a cab pull up on the other side of the street.”
“And?”
“And it looked to me that the gentleman seated inside was Lord W. Of course, I could be wrong,” she added quickly. “Indeed, I probably am.”
“Probably.” Evelyn’s heart sank. Celeste’s powers of observation were legendary.
“But I didn’t really get a good look at the man,” Celeste said. “Nothing more than a glimpse. He never got out of the carriage, and a few minutes after you went into the museum, he left.”
“It doesn’t strike you as odd that a cab stops at the museum, with a gentleman inside that may or may not be my husband, then does not leave the cab and instead drives off?”
“Not at all.” Celeste paused. “Perhaps a little.” She studied the other woman. “Do you think Lord W might have been following you?”
“Adrian?” She scoffed. “Never. To what end? Certainly, I didn’t mention going to the museum, but that could well have been entirely innocent on my part. I’ve never given him any reason to distrust me.” Although he had thought something was wrong last night. Regardless, she’d never known him to let his imagination get the best of him. “Besides, he’s not the sort of man who would follow anyone, let alone his wife.” She thought for a moment. “He would consider that sort of thing distasteful, even dishonorable.”
“My thoughts exactly.” A firm note sounded in Celeste’s voice.
“Why, the very idea is ridiculous,” Evelyn said under her breath and hoped she was right. “This whole situation is absurd. I am the Countess of Waterston with a very nice, proper sort of husband and a very nice, proper sort of life. I shouldn’t be involved in this kind of escapade. It’s mad, that’s what it is.”
“It seems to me we have done things far more insane than this,” Celeste said in a mild tone.
“Not recently.”
“More’s the pity,” Celeste said under her breath.
Evelyn ignored her. “I have a great deal to lose in all this.”
“But much to gain.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Evelyn shrugged.
“You’ll be saving Sir from public exposure and possibly worse,” Celeste said pointedly.
“And that is the repayment of a debt that is overdue.” Odd, she hadn’t thought of Sir at all since yesterday. But he was indeed why she was doing this. She owed him her help. Evelyn blew a resigned sigh. “You do realize there is one more problem.”
“Just one?”
Evelyn sighed. “I have absolutely nothing to wear.”
Chapter 5
“T
he Earl and Countess of Waterston,” the major-domo chimed at the top of the entry stairs to Lord Dunwell’s ballroom.
“Tell me again why we are here,” Adrian said out of the corner of his mouth, a smile plastered firmly on his face.
Evelyn resisted the urge to nudge him with her elbow. “Because it’s good for you politically to be seen here.” They started down the stairs. “Besides, I couldn’t think of a plausible excuse. And a shabby excuse would only have provided fodder for Lady Dunwell. You know she has the ear of everyone of importance and can be a dreadful gossip when it suits her purposes.”
“I thought that was among the reasons we weren’t going to come.”
“It was.” She squeezed his arm. “Courage, my love. We shall no doubt have a delightful time, and regardless, the evening will be at an end before you know it.”
“Hmph.” Adrian scoffed but no one would have known his thoughts from the expression on his face. He was very good at this sort of thing. He greeted their hosts with a pleasant—and apparently genuine—smile. “Lady Dunwell, you look lovely this evening but then you always do.”
Lady Dunwell smiled into Adrian’s eyes. Evelyn tried not to clench her teeth. Beryl Dunwell was the epitome of blond, English beauty. And with his dark hair and dark blue eyes, her husband was a very handsome man. No doubt, they would have made a stunning couple.
“And you are as charming as ever, my lord.” Lady Dunwell practically cooed the words. “I do hope we will have a dance together later.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Adrian said.
Lady Dunwell turned her gaze from Adrian, reluctantly, Evelyn thought, to his wife. “And my dear Lady Waterston.” As always, her tone carried a slightly superior edge, as if Evelyn were some sort of upstart, here under false pretenses. Her gaze flicked over Evelyn’s gown. “Enchanting. French?”
“Of course,” Evelyn said smoothly. It was indeed French although it was not new. Damn it all. If she had originally planned to come here tonight, she would have had something new made.
Lord Dunwell nodded to Adrian and smiled in a polite manner. “So good of you to come, Waterston.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Adrian said as if he meant it.
If Adrian could be said to have a rival in politics, it would be Dunwell, although Adrian would never have admitted such a relationship existed. He found that sort of competitive rivalry distasteful. Politics, he often said, isn’t always a noble profession but should be. There was little noble about Dunwell. The man was the very definition of ambitious. On occasion, Evelyn had thought Adrian could use a touch more of that himself, a bit more passion perhaps. But then he wouldn’t be the man he was: calm, secure, and stable. And all she’d ever wanted.
“Lady Waterston.” Dunwell greeted her with a vaguely lecherous smile. She was neither offended nor flattered. It had been Evelyn’s experience that he looked at every woman who was at all attractive in that same manner. Still, one would be wise not to encourage him. “How very delightful to see you.”
“Thank you for having us,” she said with just the right amount of polite enthusiasm in her voice. And Celeste thought
she
was the actress.
Lord Dunwell cast her a lingering look, then turned and introduced them to the Spanish ambassador and his wife. Distinguished in appearance with an impressive mustache, the diplomat kissed her hand with continental formality. His wife, by his side, was most charming and struck Evelyn as the type of lady who would be as at home on horseback in the country as she was at a grand ball.
They moved away from the receiving line and Evelyn surveyed the room. The music had already begun and the floor was filled with dancers. More than half of the people here were those they knew but then that was always the case. It was oddly comforting to feel as though one fit in one’s surroundings, as though one belonged.
“Would you care for some refreshment or would you prefer to dance first?” Adrian said.
She smiled up at him. “Do you really have to ask?”
“Silly of me, I know.” He chuckled and led her onto the dance floor and into a waltz.
Dancing in his arms, Evelyn could very nearly forget everything, save the music washing through her soul and the feel of his warmth surrounding her. There was nothing in the world like dancing with her husband. She wondered if dancing, and all else between them, would always be as wonderful as it was right now. She did hope so. She fully intended to grow old dancing in his arms. “You know, you quite swept me off my feet the very first time we danced together.”
“I recall it was much later that I swept you off your feet.” Desire flashed in his eyes and her knees weakened. Good Lord, what the man still did to her after two years of marriage.
“Yes, well, indeed you did.” She swallowed. “But that first dance was when I fell in love with you.”
“Did you?” His brows drew together. “How very disappointing.”
“Disappointing?” She arched a brow. “How is that disappointing?”
“I have always thought you fell in love with me the first time you laid eyes on me.” He shook his head in a sorrowful manner. “I thought it was love at first sight.”
She bit back a grin. “Darling, if I were to confess to that, it would go directly to your head. And you are far too arrogant already.”
“I prefer the word
confident
.”
“Yes, I know,” she said primly. “Precisely why I chose
arrogant
.”
“To keep me from becoming too
confident
?” He guided her through a perfect turn. But then they did dance perfectly together, and had from the very beginning. As though they were made one for the other. As indeed, they were.
“Too
arrogant
.” She laughed. “Although I once heard it said that two of the attributes most desirable in a man are a little arrogance and the willingness to laugh.”
“I think I laugh exceptionally well.” He expertly maneuvered her around another couple. “When we return home, I should be happy to demonstrate some of my other skills.”
“Oh, I am a fortunate woman.”
“Yes, you are.” His tone was matter-of-fact but his eyes twinkled. “No doubt the envy of every woman here.”
“Well, this
is
a very nice gown.”
He laughed.
“Which reminds me, I’m not at all sure I want you to dance with our hostess.”
“Ah, well, I can understand that.”
“Can you?”
“Indeed.” He nodded. “Her gown is quite lovely as well. The latest fashion from France, I believe.”
“Your sisters and I have you well trained. But I am not so shallow as to prefer you not dance with a lady because of her gown.” She glanced at Lady Dunwell over Adrian’s shoulder. “I don’t like the way she looks at you. As if you were dessert and she is considering how very tasty you might be.”
“I am exceptionally tasty.”
“Yes, you are, but I am unwilling to share my dessert.”
“Nor does this dessert wish to be shared.” He grinned. “But Beryl Dunwell looks that way at every man.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Evelyn said firmly. “You are the one who evaded her clutches. And she is not a woman to give up easily.”
“Nonsense, she only turned her attention to me when Richard proved uninterested.”
“Your sisters have told me she pursued you for several years.”
“Unsuccessfully,” he said firmly. “And then I met you and I was lost. Besides that was two years ago.” He shrugged as best he could without a misstep. “She is now married to Dunwell, whose ambition suits her own.”
“You are a better catch than Dunwell,” she said.
“Yes, I am.”
“You do realize there is such a thing as too much confidence?”
He chuckled.
“Women like her do not give up easily.” She shook her head. “It’s only been a mere two years.”
He stared down at her. “Why, you’re jealous, Evie.”
“It is a lovely gown,” she said in a lofty manner.
He laughed.
“Very well.” She huffed. “I am always jealous, darling. You are a most accomplished man and quite handsome as well. Any woman would be ecstatic to have you.”
“Ah, but you are the loveliest woman in the room. And I am the luckiest man.”
“Yes.” She met his gaze directly. “You are.”
It was a joke between them, which was the luckier to have the other. Although in truth, she had always thought she was the lucky one, and no one knew that better than she did herself.
He laughed again and held her a bit tighter than was proper. Not that she minded. The music swelled around them, the whirl of dancers surrounded them, and it would all have been quite perfect. If only ...
She responded to his banter but her mind drifted. She had found Adrian at very nearly the perfect moment in her life. He had been precisely what she’d needed then and remained so to this day. She knew without question he loved her as she loved him. Still, if he knew what she had been, the things she had done, wouldn’t that love be, at the very least, tarnished? At worst destroyed?
“I have been thinking of late ...”
He led her through another turn and she followed him without effort. Nonsense. Adrian, of all the people she knew, would understand duty and responsibility and loyalty. What he might not be able to understand was deception. Not that she had ever actually lied to him. Not in the strictest definition of the word. It was admittedly a fine point. One he might not agree with wholeheartedly. The man was the most forthright, honest person she’d ever met.
“A mistress for me perhaps and ...”
And they had both agreed their respective pasts were behind them. Still, his past consisted of amorous affairs and roguish living and all those sorts of behaviors second sons with too much time and money and few responsibilities tended to indulge in. Certainly, he had handled many of his family’s business affairs for years as he had a head for such things and apparently Richard had not.
“A lover for you ...”
“Only fair,” she said absently.
Still, he wasn’t the heir, and from what she’d been told, he’d seen no need to behave as one. It had all changed, of course, when Richard died.
“I do think Lady Dunwell might ...”
But Adrian had more than lived up to expectations. Indeed, he had taken on the responsibilities of his position as if he, and not his older brother, had been the one destined for the title. The music drew to a close and she barely noticed.
“We’re agreed then.”
“What?” She looked up at him.
He escorted her off the floor. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”
“Nonsense. I was listening quite closely. You said—” She stopped and stared. “What did you say?”
“I suggested that we might pursue new interests. Life has been rather dull of late. I was thinking a mistress, a lover.” He shrugged. “That sort of thing.”
“Adrian!” Shock coursed through her. “Surely you aren’t serious?” At once his words popped into her head. “And Lady Dunwell? Why, I would shoot you myself before I would permit such a thing. Whatever are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking it’s a sad state of affairs when a man can’t command the attention of his own wife,” he said wryly.
She narrowed her eyes. “You were teasing me.”
He chuckled.
“It was not the least bit amusing.”
“It was most amusing.”
She sniffed. “Perhaps if you had named any woman other than Lady Dunwell, there might have been some humor in it.”
“That was the best part.” He accepted two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one. “You deserved it.”
She raised a brow. “Because I was not paying attention to your every word?”
“Absolutely.”
“You are an arrogant man, my lord.”
“
Confident
.” He grinned, then sobered. “You are preoccupied tonight and you are never preoccupied. I don’t like it. It’s disturbing.”
“My apologies for disturbing you.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He frowned. “But this isn’t like you, and I confess I am a bit worried.”
Her tone softened. “I’m certain it’s the weather, Adrian. It’s endless and dreary and spring is never going to come.”
“Spring will come.” His tone was matter-of-fact but his gaze searched hers. “It always does.”
She smiled into eyes shadowed with concern. The man was most perceptive and he knew her entirely too well. She was a fool to think she could hide anything from him. Still, at the moment, it couldn’t be helped. And it was time she stopped feeling pitiful and confronted the task at hand. The sooner she accomplished what was required of her, the sooner she could put the past firmly behind her forever. And banish that look of worry in her husband’s eyes.