My Wicked Little Lies

by Victoria Alexander

  “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?”

  “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—”

  “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.”

  “But they are one and the same.”

  “But she doesn’t know that.”


  “And you helped him.”

  “He is my friend. He has saved my life on more than one occasion. It seemed little enough repayment.” For a long moment Max didn’t say a word. “Besides, I wanted him back.”

  “What do you—” The answer dawned on her and she sucked in a hard breath. “You never truly needed Evelyn at all, did you? You just brought her back to get her husband.”

  “It was rather clever.”

  “It was rather vile.”

  “Vile is a harsh word.”

  “And yet appropriate.” She huffed. “What happens now?”

  “Now?” He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s over. Waterston is on his way to rescue his wife. And that’s the end of it.”

  “She needs to know the truth.”

  “Not from us,” he said firmly. “It’s between the two of them now and we should leave it to them.”

  “Yes, we should.” And she firmly intended to do so until the moment she saw Evelyn. “Then you will not tell him I know his secret?”

  “Oh, well, he should know that—”

  “No.” Her tone hardened. “You tell him that I know the truth, and I swear by all that’s holy, you’ll regret it.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “I prefer to think of it as a promise.”

  He considered her carefully. “But he is my friend.”

  “And I am the woman you claim to love.” She paused. “The woman you wish to marry.”

  “I see.” He thought for a moment. “Nonetheless it does seem to me that I owe greater allegiance to a man who has saved me in the past than to a woman who may or may not marry me.”

  She gasped. “Oh, you are a wicked man.”

  “But I am your wicked man or at least I want to be.”

  Celeste thought for a moment. “And your allegiance to, oh, say a fiancée? Would that be greater than to a friend?”

  “Without question.” He paused. “But only if said fiancée truly intended to marry me and was not just getting her way.”

  She nodded slowly. “I can agree to that.”

  “When?”

  “When what?”

  “When will you marry me?”

  “I don’t know. Eventually.”

  “Celeste.”

  “Very well then. Sooner rather than later, I suppose.” She huffed. “This is not the place to be discussing the rest of our lives. Where are you taking me anyway?”

  “We are going to my flat, where you will spend the entire night,” he said firmly. “I wish to celebrate with my fiancée.”

  “But I should be home when Evelyn—”

  “I suspect she will not return tonight either.”

  “Well, then ... but your flat.” She wrinkled her nose. “I can think of far better places to celebrate. I’m not at all fond of it.”

  “Nor am I. Tomorrow I shall look for a house.” He paused. “A large house, big enough for a wife and a dozen children.”

  “I only have five.”

  “For the moment.”

  “Oh,” she said weakly. The idea of a dozen children was not particularly attractive. Still, the best days of her life had been spent in a family with eleven children. But seven, maybe even eight, children might be quite lovely. It was certainly a point of negotiation.

  “Then we are agreed,” he said. “You will marry me and I will not tell Waterston you know he is Sir.”

  She heaved a resigned sigh and noted she didn’t feel quite as resigned as she’d thought. She was in truth, a little, well, happy. “Agreed.”

  “And you will keep his secret.”

  “I said I agreed.”

  “No doubt she will know the truth tonight at any rate.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how Waterston will pull off this rescue without telling her everything.”

  “The truth is often best,” she said in a sage manner.

  And Evelyn really did need to know the truth. One way or another, Celeste was determined she learn it. It would be nice if Lord W did indeed tell his wife everything. While she didn’t feel she had exactly lied to Max about her intentions, he might well feel differently. Still, she owed Evelyn a great deal and she deserved to know the truth.

  Even if it destroyed them all.

  Bloody hell. He’d forgotten how dark it was here. At least the nearly full moon cast a bit of light.

  Adrian deftly slid the key into the lock on the warehouse door and slipped into the building. Where was that blasted lantern? It should be to one side ... He felt cautiously with his foot until it struck metal. He bent down and found a matchbox beside the lantern. Quickly, he lit the lantern, then headed toward the stairs for the cellar. It had been more than two years since he’d been in this building yet nothing had apparently changed. While it was used as well for legitimate storage, its true purpose had always been for whatever use the department had for it. It was a most convenient place to store anyone the department wanted out of sight for a while. Tonight, from what he could see, it was empty.

  Under other circumstances, he would be more cautious, but these were not other circumstances; he knew exactly what to expect. What he didn’t know was exactly what he would say. Surely something brilliant would come to him. Or anything at all. It was time, past time really, to confess everything to her. But he would prefer to avoid doing so tonight. How did one tell one’s wife he had deceived her from the first moment they met? Or that he had tricked her tonight? Or that her being held in a cold, wet cellar was his fault?

  He held the lantern up and made his way down the narrow stairs. They were bordered on one side by the outside wall and a second wall on the other side. Built years ago at the discretion of one department head or another, it provided both protection and a stealthy approach. “Evie?”

  “Adrian?” Her muffled voice sounded from somewhere below him. “Adrian!”

  “Where are you?”

  “I have no idea. Follow my voice.”

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into no more than an inch or so of water.

  “I can’t see you. There’s a sack over my head.” She sounded more irritated than scared. Good.

  “Keep talking.” He continued in her direction for a few steps more until her figure emerged from the shadows. She was tied to a wooden chair, a sack pulled down over her head to her waist.

  “Thank God you found me.”

  “I’m here.” He set the lantern down, grateful the water was too low to extinguish it, and began untying her wrists. “Just another minute. Are you hurt?”

  “No, they were fairly careful. Of course, they dropped me once.” She squirmed. “Please hurry. This sack smells dreadful, there’s a disgusting gag that has slipped down my chin and my feet and my skirts are wet.”

  “Hold still,” he said in a sharper manner than he’d intended. “I can’t get you untied if you continue to wiggle. These knots are difficult.”

  “Do forgive my impatience,” she snapped. “I’ve been tied up here for ...” She thought for a moment. “Well, I have no idea how long. I hit my head when they dropped me and lost consciousness for a time. Not long, I think.”

  Guilt stabbed him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine, really, or I will be once you get me out of this. Is Davies hurt?”

  “No, he was unharmed.”

  “Good.” Relief sounded in her voice.

  “There.” He pulled the rope from her wrists, then eased the sack up over her head.

  She drew a deep breath, yanked the gag free and stared up at him. Her wig was askew, her face smudged, and there was a nasty bruise to one side of her forehead. “Oh, darling, there was a moment when I thought I might never see you again.”

  “No possibility of that, Evie, ever.” He bent to untie her ankles. The rope was wet and the knots harder to work free.

  “How on earth did you find me?”

  He braced himself. “About that, I—”

  She sucked in a hard breath. “You paid the ransom!”
>
  “The ransom?” Of course. Relief washed through him. She had quite logically jumped to the conclusion she was being held for ransom.

  “Good God, Adrian, how much was it?”

  “No price is too high for you, my love.” He winced to himself. It wasn’t exactly a lie. If she had truly been abducted, he would have paid anything to get her back.

  “Still, I do want to know what the current rate is for wives.”

  “It’s not of any significance at all. There.” He pulled the ropes away from her feet, then straightened and grabbed her hands. “Do you think you can stand?”

  “Certainly. I haven’t been here that long. At least I don’t think I have. To be honest, I have completely lost track of time.”

  He pulled her to her feet, and she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “Oh, darling, you have saved me. Without any hesitation or concern for your own safety. Those thugs could still be here. This could have been a trap for you. The Earl of Waterston is worth far more than his wife.”

  “Never. You are priceless to me. You are my wife.” He held her tightly. “My love.”

  She raised her head. “Then take me out of here.”

  “Excellent idea.” He picked up the lantern with one hand and kept his other arm around her. “I have a carriage waiting.”

  Her wide skirts were weighted down by the water, and it took longer than he would have liked to leave the warehouse. Even though he knew she—they—were in no danger, he had a distinct feeling of dread. A feeling he hadn’t had in years and one impossible to ignore. Surely it was due to nothing more than having a taste once again of a world of intrigue he had long left behind. Still, he refused to let his guard down until they were safely in the carriage and very nearly home.

  “Adrian.” She snuggled against him and he tightened his arm around her. “I think you were extraordinarily brave tonight.”

  Again guilt pricked at his conscience. “I only did what was necessary.”

  “I have always known you would do anything for me, but I have never considered you an adventurous sort. Not the kind of man who charges into danger. That you did so, for me ...” Her voice caught. “You saved my life.”

  “I would have no life without you.”