My Wicked Little Lies. Victoria Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ coursed through her, replaced at once by suspicion. “Why not?”

      “The only reference to you is to Eve and that is minimal. When you left the agency, all records regarding your true identity were expunged.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Obviously this was a point of some annoyance. “At Sir’s orders.”

      Her heart jumped at the code name of the agent she had worked with for five long years. A man she never met in person, who communicated with her only by written word. Who guided her, issued her orders, and yes, on occasion, saved her. A man who had once invaded her dreams late in the night and had made her ache for something she—they—would never know. But that was a long time ago and those dreams, that man, were firmly in the past, and there she intended to keep them. That she would react to his name was only natural and not at all important. There was only one man who filled her dreams now. The same man who filled her life and her heart. She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

      “He wished to protect you and seemed to think it was only fair to do so. Although ...” Max huffed. “It had never been done before and, I daresay, will never be done again.”

      “I see.” She paused. Sir’s actions were as thoughtful as they were unexpected. Not that they changed anything. “He has my gratitude, of course. Regardless, this is no longer any concern of mine.”

      He raised a brow. “No?”

      She shook her head. “No.”

      “I would have thought, given the many times he saved your delightful derrière—”

      “I beg your pardon!”

      He chuckled. “Forgive me, my dear, old habits and all.” He sobered. “Now then, Evelyn—”

      “Lady Waterston,” she said firmly.

      He sighed. “Yes, of course, Lady Waterston.”

      “Thank you,” she said under her breath although she needn’t have thanked him. She was now Lady Waterston, Countess of Waterston, and had been since her marriage two years ago to Adrian Hadley-Attwater, the Earl of Waterston, and very possibly the dearest man in the world.

      “Forgive me, Lady Waterston.” He eyed his pipe longingly. “It’s not always easy to remember how very much the world has changed since you were last in this room.”

      “Not merely the world, Sir Maxwell.” She pinned him with a firm look. “I have changed as well. I am no longer the helpless young woman who was forced into the employ of this agency.”

      “I don’t recall you being forced.” He chuckled. “Nor do I remember you ever being helpless.”

      “I was young and foolish.”

      “You were young but you were never foolish.”

      She tried and failed to hide a small smile of satisfaction. She had once prided herself on never allowing her feelings—her weaknesses really—to show to him or anyone else. Even now, secure in her position in the world and in the heart of her husband, she remained reticent to display undue emotion. “Perhaps foolish is the wrong word.”

      “Perhaps.” His gaze met hers, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “You do realize that putting this in the form of a request was little more than a courtesy.”

      She had suspected as much. Still, she had hoped. “You can’t seriously expect me to return to my previous position.”

      “I not only expect it, Lady Waterston, but you really have no choice.”

      “Nonsense. Of course I have a choice.” She stood once more and crossed the room to gaze out the window that overlooked a small, private park. In spite of the fact that she had been here on no more than a handful of occasions, for nearly five years this imposing, yet nondescript, mansion on this small square in Mayfair had been the center of her world. And this man, and his superiors, most notably Sir, had ruled that world. But she had met Adrian at very nearly the same time she had grown weary of deceit and treachery, even in the name of the queen, and had left it all behind. Or thought she had. She drew a deep breath. “I have no intention of returning to this.”

      “Perhaps, given the critical nature of the situation, if we brought the matter to the attention of Lord Waterston. . .”

      The threat hung in the air. So much for friendship.

      “Blackmail, Max? Tell my husband about my past if I don’t do as you wish?”

      “Blackmail is an ugly word.” He shook his head.

      “And yet accurate?”

      He ignored her. “There’s more to it than I have said thus far.”

      “There would have to be, wouldn’t there?” On the far side of the park, a small boy, bundled against the cold, played with a dog under the watchful eyes of a nanny. Her heart twisted and she sighed. There probably was no choice. “Go on.”

      “There have been threats in recent months—”

      She turned toward him. “What kind of threats?”

      “Those of exposure primarily. Vague, little more than rumors, but threats nonetheless.” He drew a deep breath. “As you are well aware, this agency operates under a veil of secrecy.”

      She gasped in mock surprise. “You mean the Department of Domestic and International Affairs is not primarily concerned with trade?”

      “Now is not the time for sarcasm.”

      She cast him her sweetest smile and retook her seat. “I thought it was the perfect time.”

      “As I was saying, this is an agency that cannot function openly. If this file was made public, if it was in the wrong hands, everything we do, everything we have ever done, would be cast in the direst of lights. We have not always followed what many would see as proper procedures. Indeed, we have often operated outside the strict confines of the law in the pursuit of the security interests of this country. The repercussions of exposure could bring down the government itself, especially given the volatile nature of the current political climate. At the very least, our effectiveness would be at an end.”

      He paused. “As for the personal cost, the gentlemen who have headed this organization have done so at risk to themselves and their reputations. The only thing they have received in return, aside from the knowledge that they have provided an invaluable service to their country, is the assurance that their connection to this agency will never be public.” He shook his head. “These men are from well-known families, they hold hereditary titles and are respected members of Parliament. Some have had the confidence of the queen herself. Exposure would wreak havoc at all levels of government.”

      “I understand that.” Impatience sounded in her voice. “But none of it explains why you have demanded my presence. Why am I here?”

      “Because you are the only one I can trust,” he said staunchly.

      “Nonsense. You have other agents, far more competent than I, that can certainly handle a minor task like the recovering of a file.” She scoffed. “If I am the only one you can trust, then you have far greater problems than a mere missing file.”

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