Read My Wicked Little Lies Online
Authors: Victoria Alexander
My Wicked Little Lies (24 page)
And never let her go again.
She had to get home.
Evelyn hurried through the milling guests toward the exit. She had to see Adrian now, this very instant. She had wasted enough time allowing him to be foolish. And indeed, one never did know how much time one had left.
She asked a footman for her cloak and requested her carriage be sent for. It was odd to have at last met Sir, even if she had still not seen his face. Once she had longed for this, wanted him to say the sorts of things he had come perilously close to saying tonight. But now ... she shook her head. Now, it simply didn’t matter. And now, she had to admit, if only to herself, that some of her apprehension had been in part a fear that, upon meeting him, desires she had thought long gone would return. That they hadn’t was both a relief and an affirmation. She’d had no doubt about her love for her husband, but she had wondered if she might be tempted by a man she had once wanted but never had. Now, at last she knew.
Her carriage arrived quickly. She directed Davies to take her home, then settled back in her seat. She did hope Adrian wasn’t already on his way. She would hate to pass him on the streets.
There was nothing she had said to Sir about Adrian and her love for him that she hadn’t already known. But somehow, saying it all aloud, saying it to someone else, made her realize how very deep her love for him was. How much he really meant to her. And how lucky she truly was.
Adrian was the love of her life. Now she wondered if he understood that. All the things she had said to Sir, she should say to her husband as well. She always thought he knew how important he was to her but perhaps not. There was not now, nor would there ever be, any reason for jealousy or suspicion. He needed to know that.
And tonight she would make that very clear. Before she took him to his bed. Or perhaps, she smiled in a most wicked manner, afterward.
The carriage came to an abrupt stop. Davies’s raised voice could be heard along with at least one other. What on earth was going on? She huffed in impatience. She needed to get home as soon—
Without warning the carriage door jerked open. Before she knew what was happening, hands grabbed her and a gag muffled her screams. A rough sack was thrown over her head and pulled down over her shoulders, binding her arms against her. She caught no more than the briefest glimpse of men in masks. Men in masks were the bane of her existence tonight. She felt herself pulled out of the carriage and struggled all the while. It was futile and she knew it. Still the occasional grunts from her captors when her foot connected with some part of them, hopefully, extremely sensitive parts, was most gratifying. Within moments, she was transferred to another carriage and it took off at a surprisingly sedate pace. No doubt to avoid notice.
Fear threatened to overwhelm her but she pushed it aside. Now was not the time to become a fragile female. Besides, fear could be crippling and she needed her wits about her.
Obviously she was being kidnapped but to what end? Ransom? Adrian would certainly pay anything to ensure her safety. But there were other reasons for taking a woman against her will on the streets of London that were far more vile. Her jaw clenched. Those women were never heard from again.
It struck her that her captors were most efficient. They scarcely said a word. And when they did, they kept their words too low for her to make out what they said or recognize their voices. They were clever, these kidnappers of hers. They had obviously done this sort of thing before and were, just as obviously, well trained.
It seemed an endless time but it was surely not long at all before the carriage stopped. She was lifted out of the vehicle and carried for a brief time. It was useless to struggle. They were obviously much stronger than she. Her mind would be of greater use in terms of her escape.
Boards creaked with every footfall. There was a distinctive smell in the air and the sound of water slapping against wood. Of course, they were on the docks. She scoffed to herself. How very predictable. Unless they were taking her to a ship. Panic welled within her, and she fought against it. Admittedly, even as an agent, she had never been kidnapped, but she knew that neither fear nor panic would serve her now.
The thug carrying her stumbled and muttered an unintelligible curse. Before she knew what was happening, she felt herself flying through the air. She braced for impact and prayed she would not land in the water. In these skirts she would surely drown within moments and she would much prefer not to die that way. But she hit the dock with a jarring thud, her head smacking against something hard. And in the instant before blackness claimed her, the most absurd thought flashed through her mind.
This was not at all how she had planned to spend the rest of the evening.
Chapter 20
D
amnation, where was she?
amnation, where was she?
It had taken Adrian far longer to return to the ballroom than he had planned. Apparently, the secluded room he��d chosen to shed Sir’s costume appealed to more than men wishing to change from one persona to another. He’d almost been discovered by a couple seeking a spot for a private moment with barely enough time to dive behind a sofa. Damnation. He had once headed a clandestine organization. Now he was reduced to hiding behind furniture. Fortunately, the unidentified lovers—he never did get a look at their faces, and their voices were unfamiliar—did not linger. Apparently, they both had to return to their respective spouses.
Still, even with the delay, he was in high spirits. And why wouldn’t he be? All his doubts had vanished with Evie’s words.
Nearly an hour later, his mood had dimmed. Where was his blasted wife anyway? He was ready—no—eager to sweep her off her feet. And he was willing to wager he could do a far better job of it as himself than he had as Sir. If, of course, he put the same amount of effort into it. And from now on, he would. It had been rather fun really, attempting to lure his wife into seduction. He resolved to remember that.
He continued to circle the ballroom until he found himself near the main doors. It wasn’t easy. He swore there were more people here now than there were when he’d left the room as Sir. And somewhere in this crush was Evie. From here perhaps he could get an overview of the entire room.
“You look like a man who could use something more substantial than champagne,” a familiar voice said at his side. “But I fear this is all they are offering tonight.” Max handed him a glass.
“I’m surprised to see you here.” Adrian accepted the glass gratefully. His friend looked the perfect picture of a Venetian rake, Casanova perhaps, in a bronze-colored coat coupled with a heavily embroidered waistcoat, brown knee britches, and half mask. Adrian had thought his own costume with its blue coat, cream waistcoat, and dark britches to be very nearly too extreme, but next to his old friend, he felt like a wren beside a peacock.
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Indignation sounded in Max’s voice. “I am not an earl but I am still socially acceptable. Even, dare I say, in demand. I am considered a most eligible bachelor, you know.”
Adrian laughed. “How did you recognize me?”
“I have my ways.” Max grinned. “But I’m surprised to see you here as well. I thought you and Evelyn would be home by now.”
“We would be if I could find her.”
“Then all went according to plan tonight?”
Adrian grinned. “Better than I could have hoped for.”
“Excellent.” Max breathed a sigh of relief. “Although I am surprised you managed it without assistance. I expected to hear from you.”
“Nonsense. I had no problems at all. Not that I anticipated any.”
“Your confidence is most impressive.”
“And well deserved. You did lose your wager, by the way.” He chuckled. “Between the mask, hooded cloak, and wedges in my shoes, she had no idea it was me.”
“To my eternal regret.” He raised his glass to his friend. “And your eternal happiness.”
“You should find a good woman yourself, Max.”
“I believe I have,” Max said thoughtfully.
Adrian’s brow rose under his mask. “Have you?”
“That’s neither here nor there at the moment.” Max paused. “I must admit, even I had a few misgivings about tonight’s plan.”
“Why? I knew it would work.”
“Well, you did admit it was brilliant.”
“Simple, Max.” Adrian nodded sagely. “Simple and uncomplicated is always best.”
Max stared at him. “There was nothing simple about it. It required a fair amount of coordination.”
“Max.” Adrian shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?” Max said cautiously.
“I’m talking about my plan to speak to Evelyn here tonight as Sir,” Adrian said sharply.
“Oh.” Max grimaced. “Am I to gather then that you didn’t get the message I had delivered to your house earlier this evening?”
“What message?” A horrible thought occurred to him and his stomach twisted. “Max,” he said slowly, “where is my wife?”
“You said it was a brilliant idea.”
“Max.” A warning sounded in Adrian’s voice.
“I thought we had decided—”
“We decided nothing of the sort.” Adrian turned, strode through the entry doors, across the marble floor, and down the steps leading to the Effington House grand entry. He pulled off his mask. He had no time for such nonsense. “I thought I made my position very clear about this.”
Max, too, discarded his mask. He was right at his side. “Bloody hell, Adrian. I thought we had agreed.”
Adrian crossed the foyer. “She is my wife. I would never agree to that.” A footman opened the doors and Adrian continued into the night without pause.
Max grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, lowering his voice. “Yes, but you asked for my help and right now you work for me.” His tone was hard. “If this goes awry, the blame will not be placed on you but on me. This is my responsibility because this is my department and I used its resources for personal reasons.”
For the first time Adrian realized Max was not merely the face of the department; he was, in truth, its head. “Regardless, she is
my
wife.” He ordered a footman stationed by the street to hail a cab. “Where is she?”
my
wife.” He ordered a footman stationed by the street to hail a cab. “Where is she?”
“Where we discussed,” Max said sharply. “The warehouse cellar at the docks.”
Fear stabbed him. He ignored it. “And the tide is rising.”
“I would never place her in any real danger. The water probably won’t reach as high as her knees.” Max scoffed. “The worst that will happen is that she’ll get a little wet. A bit cold perhaps.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes. “I can think of any number of other things that can happen to her in a cold, dark cellar with water rising around her.”
“But they won’t,” Max said firmly.
“My lord,” the footman called. “Your cab.”
Adrian took a step. Max again grabbed his arm. “Aren’t you going to change back into your costume? Back into Sir?”
“There’s no time. I have to rescue my wife, remember?”
“I instructed a lantern to be left by the main warehouse door. Here.” Max released him and withdrew a key from his waistcoat pocket. “This should do for the lock. I didn’t think it was wise to leave the building unlocked. Simply a precaution, nothing more than that.”
“I should beat you senseless for this.” Adrian snatched the key from his hand and started toward the street.
“As if you could!”
“Hah!”
“And when you find her? Then what?”
“I have no idea,” he said over his shoulder, hurrying toward the cab. He directed the driver to take him to the docks, then fairly leapt into the small carriage. Adrian leaned forward in his seat, as if he could urge the horses faster by strength of will alone.
Max was right. Evie was in little physical danger.
The real danger here was to their marriage and their future and the rest of their lives.
Celeste stared in disbelief, then stepped out of the shadows. “I thought you barely knew him.”
“Celeste!” Max’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you. To get your help.”
“My help?” Caution sounded in his voice. Oh, he was a crafty devil. “What do you mean?”
“Evelyn’s driver said he was beset by thugs, tied up—not well, I might add, which I now find much more significant than I did a moment ago—and she was abducted. When he freed himself, he went to Lord W and, when he wasn’t at his house, came to mine.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I came to you.”
“Quite right.” Max nodded. “I shall take matters in hand from here.”
“I suspect you’ve done quite enough already.”
“Oh?” Max’s expression was noncommittal, neutral as it were. This wasn’t the face of Max, the man she loved, but rather of Sir Maxwell Osgood, head of the department. “Exactly how much did you hear?”
“More than you would like, no doubt.” She studied him for a long moment. Even with all she had heard, it was still difficult to accept the truth. “Enough to know Evelyn’s kidnapping was a sham.” Anger surged through her. “Lord W is Sir, isn’t he?”
“This is not the place for this discussion.” He grabbed her arm and steered her toward the row of waiting carriages.
“You bloody bastard,” she said under her breath.
“My birth was completely legitimate and I have the papers to prove it.” They reached his carriage and he fairly tossed her inside. “I may be any number of things but bastard isn’t one of them.”
“I wasn’t talking about your birth.”
He issued directions to his driver, then climbed in beside her. “Yes, my love, I realize that.”
“Sir is Lord W.”
“Yes, he is.”
“And he has been lying to his wife for the past seven years.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He shrugged. “She has only been his wife for two. Before that—”
“And you have been lying to me,” she snapped.
“One could look at it that way, I suppose. Although in truth, you never asked, did you?”
She shook her head in confusion. “Never asked what?”
“You never asked me if Waterston was Sir. You never asked me if Evelyn was marrying the man she had worked for. The man you both worked for.” Even in the scant light in the carriage, she could see his eyes narrow. “The man you both dreamed of.”
She gasped. “You are twisting this about entirely. You are in the wrong here.”
“No, I’m not. At least not for the most part. It’s the nature of the department. Agents know only what they need to know. It was never necessary for you to know Waterston was Sir.”
“Perhaps.” He did have a point. One she could scarcely argue with. “But when Evelyn married—”
“She left the department. As did Sir. As, for all intents and purposes, did you.”
“Still—”
“There is no
still
about it. I have never lied to you. There are things I have never told you because it was not necessary to do so. If anything, I am guilty of lies of omission, which I feel no need to apologize for as those were dictated by the nature—”
still
about it. I have never lied to you. There are things I have never told you because it was not necessary to do so. If anything, I am guilty of lies of omission, which I feel no need to apologize for as those were dictated by the nature—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Celeste waved away his words impatiently. “The nature of the department.”
She considered what he had said and was hard-pressed to argue the point. Indeed, she had never asked about the man Evelyn had married, had never thought to ask. Why would she? In spite of his reputation with women, Lord W was of good family and had recently inherited a title. One could tell simply by looking at him that he would rise to the occasion. And he had. Nor would one ever have suspected his randy bachelor days concealed a life far more serious. And indeed, hadn’t they always lived by the rule that people never saw what they did not expect to see?
“Admittedly, you have a valid point.”
“I usually do.”
“But,” she said pointedly, “since you called Evelyn back to the department, you have to admit you have not been entirely honest with me.”
“But”—his tone echoed hers—“you have to admit I did not actually lie to you either.”
“You led me to believe—”
“Which is not the same as lying.”
“I am still furious with you.”
“Now who is lying?”
“You had my dearest friend kidnapped!”
“Yes, but I never lied about it.” He shrugged. “It needed to be done.”
“Why?”
“Waterston needed to know how his wife felt about him. Whom she would choose if given the choice.”
She stared in disbelief. “You mean a choice between Lord W and Sir?”
“Yes.”
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