My Wicked Little Lies. Victoria Alexander

don’t miss it, even a little?”

      “No, not at all.”

      “Surely, there’s a moment now and then?”

      “Not a moment, not an instant—never!”

      “Of course you don’t.” Celeste nodded in a thoughtful manner. As always, Evelyn wasn’t entirely certain what the other woman was thinking.

      Celeste had played the part of Evelyn’s companion through her years of working for the department. When Evelyn had decided to leave and marry Adrian, Celeste had left with her and now served as Evelyn’s secretary. And then, as now, she was her closest friend. “Do you?”

      “No.” Celeste shook her head, then grimaced. “Perhaps on occasion, when life seems a bit ... dull.”

      “My life is never dull,” Evelyn said staunchly.

      Celeste raised a brow.

      “Never.” Her eyes widened with realization. “Is yours?”

      “My dear friend. This is the life you were born for.” Celeste chose her words with care. “You are the Countess of Waterston now. You have an endless number of social and charitable obligations as well as Adrian’s enormous family to keep you occupied. Whereas I ...” She shrugged. “I am your employee.”

      “You are my dearest friend.”

      “And for now ...” Celeste cast her a warm smile. “That is enough.”

      Evelyn considered her curiously for a long moment and wondered if she’d seen her at all in recent years. Although not being seen, or rather, not being noticed, was what Celeste strived for. She wore her dark hair in a tight, stern knot on the back of her head. Her spectacles hid her startling violet eyes. Coupled with the drab, nondescript clothes she typically donned, one’s gaze tended to pass right over her. But on any number of occasions, Evelyn had noticed the gazes of gentlemen in particular jerking back to Celeste for a second look. Celeste had always been good at making herself appear to be someone she wasn’t. Evelyn had long thought her friend was a woman in hiding. Indeed, Celeste DeRochette was not her real name but she had never shared her true name with Evelyn nor had Evelyn ever asked. Privacy was a boundary of friendship neither woman had ever crossed. Nor had they needed to. Evelyn would trust Celeste with her life.

      They never would have become friends, they never would have met at all, if not for the department, although they had much in common. Both women had been orphaned at an early age, but Evelyn’s father was a viscount and she had been left the ward of a distant relative, Sir George Hardwell. Sir George had had no desire to be responsible for a child and had had little interest in her. He had ensured her education at boarding schools in England and abroad and had provided a minimal allowance when she had finished her schooling thanks to a small trust, left by her parents, now long depleted, administered by Sir George’s solicitor. While she had dutifully corresponded with him through the years, he had rarely responded and eventually she had stopped writing altogether. Evelyn had often thought it odd that, at one time, the two most significant men in her life were two she had never met in person. She had long suspected it was through Sir George that the department had become aware of her and her circumstances although she had nothing to base that suspicion on. It was a feeling, nothing more.

      Celeste was the daughter of an actress. She, too, had been orphaned, or perhaps abandoned, Evelyn wasn’t clear on that point, when very young. She was passed from family to family until she followed her mother’s path and found first a home in the theater and then the department. Evelyn thought it something of a pity she hadn’t continued on the stage. An expert at adopting accents, be they refined or common, Celeste was also brilliant at changing her appearance and making one believe she was someone she wasn’t. Valuable skills to have when one worked for a clandestine government department yet, for the most part, wasted when one was a social secretary to a countess.

      “Good Lord.” Evelyn stared at her friend. “I’ve been dreadfully selfish.”

      “Indeed you have and I have permitted you to be.” Celeste met her gaze directly. “But do not think for a moment I would be here if I did not wish to be. It’s been most ... refreshing. It’s not a difficult job, you know. Keeping your schedule, planning your social events, assisting your correspondence. And you do overpay me.” A twinkle shone in Celeste’s eyes. “Why, it’s almost like being on holiday.”

      Evelyn ignored her amusement. “But is it enough?”

      “You could always pay me more.”

      “You know what I mean.”

      “As I said, it is at the moment.” Celeste shrugged. “I make no promises about the future, however.”

      “Good. And I make no apologies for that bit of selfishness.” Celeste was as close to her as any sister might have been. Indeed, Evelyn considered her family and they did look a bit like sisters. They were of a similar height and figure although Celeste’s hair was nearly black whereas Evelyn’s was a determined brown. Her eyes were hazel, brown really, her friend’s violet. Evelyn considered Celeste the lovelier of the two women, which bothered her not at all. They were nearly the same age as well. Celeste had turned thirty some months ago and Evelyn’s thirtieth birthday was within a few weeks. “I would hate to lose you.”

      “I assure you, you will never lose me,” Celeste said firmly. “Even if the day comes that I decide this is not how I wish to spend the rest of my life, we will always be close friends.”

      Still, the very idea of not having Celeste around was most distressing. Evelyn loved Adrian’s family but Celeste was hers, the only family she had. She adopted a casual tone. “Adrian still has one remaining unwed brother, you know.”

      “The barrister?”

      Evelyn nodded. “He’s very nice and quite handsome.”

      Celeste laughed. “So you are matchmaking now?”

      “Not at all.” Evelyn paused. “Although it’s not a bad idea. There are worse ways to spend the rest of your life than as the wife of a nice, handsome, ambitious barrister. Who will no doubt one day be a judge.”

      “And will therefore need a wife,” Celeste said thoughtfully.

      “He doesn’t need one but a suitable wife can certainly be an aide to any man with ambition.”

      “And would I be a suitable wife?”

      “You can be anything you wish,” Evelyn said firmly.

      “It’s a role I have yet to play.” A considering note sounded in Celeste’s voice.

      “A role you were born to play.”

      “I doubt that. Regardless ...” Celeste shook her head. “Your brother-in-law has never shown the slightest bit of interest in me.”

      “Perhaps because he has never seen you as who you really are.”

      “Perhaps. And perhaps when I meet a gentleman who makes me want to be completely candid and forthright and all those sorts of things, then I will indeed marry.” Celeste studied her with amusement. “You are simply offering up your brother-in-law as a sacrificial lamb. Were I to marry him, we would truly be family.”

      Evelyn gasped in mock indignation. “I would never encourage your marriage to suit my own purposes. That would indeed be selfish.” She grinned. “But it is an excellent idea.”

      “It is an idea, the excellence of it remains to be seen.” Celeste pinned her with a firm look. “But you, my dear, have changed the subject.”

      “It’s not a subject I wish to discuss. Or to think about.”

      “And in this, too, you have no choice.” Celeste’s brows drew together. “What happens now?”

      “Max said he has an idea as to the location of the file. He will contact me with instructions.” Evelyn resumed pacing the room.

      “So