He chuckled. “She wouldn’t be my mother otherwise.”
Evie started toward the parlor doors, then paused; her tone abruptly sober. “I am still angry with you, and hurt.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
Her gaze met his, and he wasn’t sure he had realized until that moment how very much his lack of trust had hurt her. He ignored the thought that if she ever learned of his deception as Sir, she would be hurt again and far worse. His determination to keep that knowledge from her strengthened.
“I will make amends for my behavior, Evie, you have my word. If it takes the rest of my life.”
“Oh, darling.” A slow smile spread across her face. “It will.”
It was an excellent dinner, which had nothing to do with the skills of Diana’s cook and everything to do with the glances Adrian traded across the table with his wife. Good God, he felt as if they’d turned the clock back two years and he had to start at the beginning. He had to win her heart again. Still now, as then, he was confident of success.
Dinners, with the entire family in attendance, had become something of a tradition now that all of his siblings were adults with lives of their own. Every other month or so, Diana and her husband, James, or Adrian’s mother or his youngest sister, Miranda, or Portia, both widows who had homes of their own, or Bianca, who still resided in the house she had shared with her estranged husband, or he and Evie would host the gathering. As Sebastian was now married, he and Veronica would take their turn as well although it might be wise to ease her into it as she had little family of her own. Still, her relations had joined the Hadley-Attwaters this past Christmas at Sebastian’s new country home, and Veronica had handled the large number of guests with ease, all things considered. Hugh, as a widower, was never expected to have the family for dinner, which he had long joked was one reason to remain unwed.
“Evelyn,” Bianca said, in a tone far too innocent to be legitimate. “Do tell us what you are doing with your house.”
“Quite honestly, I’m not sure yet.” Evie sipped her wine thoughtfully. “Thus far I have had a small army of linen drapers and paper hangers and painters and I’ve lost track of who else traipsing through the house taking measurements and assessing what needs to be done. They are supposed to come back to me with suggestions and ideas and, hopefully, solid plans for refurbishing.”
“The house was your parents’, wasn’t it?” Miranda asked.
Evie nodded. “My guardian leased it out for years, but I lived there after my school years until I married Adrian. My secretary resides there now, which is most reassuring.” She shook her head. “I hate the thought of it being unoccupied.”
“Understandable.” Diana nodded. “Are you replacing the furniture as well?”
“Most of it, I think,” Evie said. “I don’t remember the house at all from my childhood, but I suspect any really good pieces vanished years ago. I have no idea if they were sold to help pay for my schooling or simply disappeared with the various tenants. What remains is sadly out of date and quite worn. The toll taken on it by tenants, you know.”
Portia glanced at Adrian. “This must be a somewhat extravagant undertaking.”
“But worth it.” He smiled at his wife. “One can never go wrong with an investment of this nature. The house itself will be far more valuable, and new furnishings will be beneficial should Miss DeRochette ever decide she prefers to live elsewhere or marries and we decide to let the house again.”
“Which I wish to avoid,” Evie said firmly. “Unless it was to family or friends.”
“Very wise of you, dear.” Helena nodded her approval.
“Didn’t your guardian die recently?” Hugh asked.
Evie nodded. “A few months ago, in November.”
Helena’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t I know this?”
“My apologies, Mother,” Adrian said smoothly. “We might have failed to mention it.”
Helena aimed a pointed look at her oldest son. “How could you fail to mention a death in the family?”
“The fault is mine, Helena,” Evie said quickly. “Sir George was so distant a relative, I have never even been certain how exactly we are related. Indeed, I never met the man in person.”
Helena stared. “Good Lord, I had no idea.”
“Apparently, when Adrian and Evelyn married, you failed in your usual inquisition.” Diana favored her mother with a pleasant smile.
James choked back a laugh.
“Nonsense.” Helena scoffed. “I was well aware of Evelyn’s background. I was vaguely acquainted with her parents. I knew of her education and her travels and her reputation.” She glanced at Evie. “Neither perfect nor especially blemished. Frankly, I was so taken with Evelyn, I thought she was the perfect match for Adrian, that there was no need for an inquisition. Furthermore. . .” She leveled a hard glance at Diana. “I do not conduct inquisitions. In the best interest of my children I may, if the situation warrants it, make casual inquiries.”
Hugh snorted. Portia’s brow rose. Miranda took a quick sip of wine while Bianca bit her lip. Veronica hid her smile behind her napkin. James tried and failed to suppress a grin. Sebastian and Adrian didn’t even try. His mother was an expert at ferreting out information, especially when it came to prospective spouses for her children. He had long thought she would have made an excellent agent.
“My apologies, Mother.” Diana’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Obviously you were thinking of someone else’s mother.” Helena huffed.
For a long moment, no one said a word, then laughter erupted around the table. Even his mother was hard-pressed to hold back a smile.
“Sebastian.” Helena turned her attention to his youngest brother. “How is the work at your house coming along?”
Sebastian had bought a large, centuries-old house in the country several months before he had met and married Veronica. While it had proved the perfect house for a family gathering at Christmas, his guests had agreed among themselves there was still much work to be accomplished.
“Thanks to my wife, it’s coming along quite well,” Sebastian said with the air of a man who was at last settled and happy.
“It’s going to be magnificent. We have already made plans for restoring the gardens once spring finally comes.” Confidence sounded in Veronica’s voice. “Of course, we have discovered the brickwork needs attention and the plumbing is not as sound as Sebastian had thought and ... oh dear.” She turned toward Evelyn. “Whatever you do with this house of yours, do not make the mistake of listing all the work that needs to be done. It can be overwhelming and will make you want to throw up your hands in surrender.”
Evie laughed. “I shall keep that in mind.”
“Veronica,” Portia began. “I was wondering if you had heard from ...”
The conversation ebbed and flowed around the table with topics leapfrogging from acquaintances misplaced to the endless winter weather to Hugh’s marital status to Portia’s sojourn in Italy and whatever else struck anyone’s fancy. It was, as always, fast and a touch furious with hardly anyone waiting until someone else had finished before launching into another topic. For a newcomer to their ranks, it could be quite intimidating, which was why Adrian had not introduced Evie to this family tradition until after they had wed. But Evie had fit in at once and indeed had reveled in the exchanges between siblings, even when, on occasion, disagreement erupted into accusation and recrimination. They were certainly not perfect, after all, as any one of them would freely admit. Nor were they reticent to express their opinions on how any of the others should live their lives. Evie had told Adrian once, after one of these dinners, this was how she had always imagined families to be but thought it farfetched that the same people who could debate at the top of their lungs and argue vehemently would, in the next minute, laugh together and defend one another without hesitation.
“I heard the most amusing story today,” Bianca began, when the dishes
from the last course had been removed and the meal was drawing to a close.
“Gossip, Bianca?” Portia frowned in a forbidding manner. Veronica choked back a laugh. Years ago, Portia had gotten it into her head that the Hadley-Attwaters were entirely too proper to indulge in questionable activities such as gossip. And while they were an eminently proper family in many ways, his mother and sisters had refined gossip to a form of art. Which was probably what made it acceptable.
“I wouldn’t call it gossip,” Bianca said loftily. “It’s more in the category of news, I would think. Besides, this came to me very nearly firsthand.”
Diana raised a brow. “Very nearly?”
“Well, secondhand.” Bianca thought for a moment. “Or perhaps third.”
“Is it a good story?” Miranda asked.
Bianca nodded. “Very good.”
“Go on then.” Veronica leaned forward. “Do tell us.”
“Very well.” Bianca glanced around the table as if to confirm everyone’s undivided attention. “It seems Lady Dunwell is having an affair.”
Adrian’s stomach lurched.
Hugh snorted. “That’s scarcely news.”
“That’s not the amusing part,” Bianca said. “Apparently, Lady Dunwell was involved in an afternoon tryst at the Langham Hotel.”
Portia gasped. “I have had tea at the Langham.” She turned a scandalized gaze toward Veronica. “You and I have met for tea at the Langham.”
“I daresay Lady Dunwell wasn’t there for the tea,” Miranda said under her breath.
“They do have a lovely tea,” Veronica said in an aside to Sebastian.
“No doubt,” he murmured.
Helena leaned over and patted Portia’s hand. “I’m sure it doesn’t affect the tea, dear.”
“As I was saying,” Bianca continued, “Lady Dunwell was in a room with her paramour—”
“Who was he?” Diana asked.
“This is completely inappropriate. And at dinner.” Portia sniffed. “Aunt Helena?”
“You’re absolutely right, it is inappropriate.” Helena nodded.
Portia smiled in an altogether too sanctimonious manner.
“However, as we have no guests, no one outside the family who would judge our scandalous behavior. And as we are all simply dying of curiosity ...” Helena nodded at Bianca. “Who was the man in question?”
Bianca smirked. “Lord Radington.”
“That’s not news either.” Hugh scoffed.
“Lord Radington?” Evie’s eyes widened. “Lord Radington?”
Bianca nodded.
“But he’s so ... so ... obvious. His reputation is deplorable. I can’t imagine any woman in her right mind ...” Evie’s gaze fixed on her husband. Adrian tried not to flinch. “Why, his manner is entirely too practiced, and to my taste, he isn’t even especially attractive.”
“Oh no, not especially.” Miranda shook her head.
“But rather a lot really,” Diana murmured.
“Nonsense.” Evie pulled her gaze from his and was, at once, completely controlled. “I can’t believe Lady Dunwell doesn’t have better taste.”
“Have you met Beryl Dunwell?” Veronica said under her breath.
“Of course I have met her.” Evie nodded. “Indeed, I consider her a friend.”
“You what?” Adrian said without thinking. Friendship between Evie and Beryl did not strike him as a sound idea. He had learned long ago, when dealing with women, one should never allow the past to collide with the present. He assumed, if the present was a wife, it was even more important to avoid such a collision.
“She is my friend,” Evie repeated firmly.
“How very interesting,” Miranda said.
“Really?” Diana stared. “Beryl Dunwell? I wouldn’t think the two of you would have anything at all in common.”
“Oh, you would be surprised,” Evie said with a pleasant smile.
“I think you would be an excellent influence on Lady Dunwell,” Helena said staunchly. “She could certainly use a good influence. You and Adrian behave most properly.”
“Did you hear that, darling?” Evie leaned forward slightly and looked into his eyes. “Your mother has no doubts as to our proper behavior. She trusts that we will not do anything foolish and scandalous.”
“Yes, yes.” Bianca gestured impatiently. “You and Adrian are most proper, Lady Dunwell is a strumpet, and Lord Radington is a scoundrel. Be that as it may, it’s not ...” She paused in the manner of an expert storyteller. “The best part of the story.”
“Oh, do get on with it then, Bianca.” Impatience sounded in Portia’s voice. Her eyes widened with the realization of what she had said. “Not that I’m at all interested,” she added quickly.
James grinned. “I find I am rather interested.”
“As are we all,” Diana said. “Out with it, Bianca.”
“The best part,” Bianca continued, “is that, apparently in the middle of, well, the act, who burst in upon them unannounced?”
Bloody hell.
“An irate husband,” Bianca said with a flourish in her voice.
“Lord Dunwell?” Hugh raised an incredulous brow.
“I can’t imagine Lord Dunwell being outraged.” Veronica turned to her husband. “He is no better than she is.”
Sebastian had spent much of his adult life traveling the world and had only returned to England for good last autumn. He stared at her. “How do you know all this?”
“Oh, one hears things, here and there.” Veronica cast her husband a wicked smile. “You would be surprised at the things I know.”
Sebastian chuckled. “I have been thus far.”
“That certainly is anticlimactic,” Adrian said. Past time to change this subject. “Lady Dunwell and Lord Radington.” He scoffed. “Nothing surprising there.” He turned to his youngest brother. “Sebastian, have you started your new book—”
“I’m not finished.” Indignation sounded in Bianca’s voice. “There’s more and it’s even better.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree with Portia.” Adrian shook his head. “This is most definitely gossip and I don’t think—”
“Nonsense, darling.” Evie’s gaze pinned his. “Everyone wants to hear the rest of the story. I know I am fairly consumed with curiosity.” She glanced at Bianca. “Please, don’t stop now.”
“Thank you, Evelyn. As I was saying, an irate husband interrupted them. However ...” She paused. “The husband in question was not Lord Dunwell!”
Adrian held his breath.
Sebastian stared in confusion. “Does Lady Dunwell have more than one husband?”
“She did, dear,” Veronica said, “but her first husband is dead. Goodness, even Lady Dunwell only has one husband at a time.”
Diana frowned. “Now I am confused, Bianca. What are you trying to say?”
“The husband who burst in upon them was not looking for Lady Dunwell but rather for his wife. Who he apparently thought was with Lord Radington,” Bianca finished with a satisfied grin.
For a long moment everyone stared.
“Oh my,” Miranda said.
“And at the Langham.” Portia shook her head.
At once laughter again engulfed the table.
“And the name of this outraged but obviously mistaken husband?” Evie asked.
“Oh.” Bianca visibly deflated. “I’m afraid I don’t have that. All I know is that he and his wife have an impeccable reputation and there has never been any talk regarding infidelity about either of them.”
Relief washed through Adrian.
“Probably for the best.” Helena nodded. “That you don’t know his name, that is.”
“One wonders if it wasn’t a mistake on the part of the husband,” Evie said mildly. “Given their reputation.”
“Can you imagine such a thing?” Diana shook her head. “I would be furious if my husband burst into a hotel room looking for me. If he didn’t trust me.”
“Fortunately for
me ...” James cast an affectionate look at his wife. “I trust you implicitly.”
Diana smiled with satisfaction. “As well you should.”
“Still,” Adrian said slowly, knowing full well any comment on his part was probably a mistake yet unable to stop himself. “One also has to wonder if the wife’s manner didn’t lead the husband to suspect something was amiss.”
Evie’s expression didn’t change but anger flashed in her eyes. “Certainly, men jump to irrational conclusions all the time on the flimsiest bits of circumstantial evidence.”
Hugh frowned. “I don’t.”
Bianca snorted. “You’re not married.”
“If, of course, the wife is innocent,” Miranda began.
“And one does have to wonder about that as well,” Portia pointed out.
“But if the wife has done nothing untoward, how terribly humiliating for her,” Miranda continued. “For anyone, let alone Lady Dunwell, to know your husband doesn’t trust you, it’s very nearly unforgivable. I would be furious as well, and I daresay, my forgiveness would not be easily gained.”
“I don’t know why you are all assuming the wife is innocent,” Hugh said. At once, six pairs of indignant female eyes pinned him. “Although she probably is,” he added quickly.
“Nonetheless if a man loves his wife ...” Sebastian chose his words with care. “Isn’t a certain amount of jealousy to be expected on occasion?”
“But if a man trusts his wife as well as loves her,” Veronica said, “wouldn’t he confirm any doubts he might have by, oh, I don’t know, asking her outright rather than letting his suspicions build until he finds himself bursting into the wrong hotel room?”
“I do wish you would all stop using the word burst,” Adrian said sharply. “It conjures up images of splintered doors and madmen persecuting innocent wives.”
“Burst is how it was told to me.” Bianca’s brows drew together. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
“You’ll have to forgive your brother,” Evie said smoothly. “He has not been sleeping well of late.”
“Poor dear,” Helena said with an overly innocent smile.
“My apologies,” Adrian muttered and took a long swallow of his wine. Even if the incident at the Langham was now fodder for gossip, the identity of the irate husband was apparently not public knowledge. Yet. With any luck, it never would be. And if there was one lesson he had learned through years of clandestine operations, while luck could not be counted on, luck often made the difference between failure and success.
My Wicked Little Lies Page 19