My Wicked Little Lies. Victoria Alexander

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

      “The 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,