My Wicked Little Lies. Victoria Alexander

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      Chapter 2

      “Well, this could be somewhat awkward,” Celeste DeRochette said calmly, peering over the spectacles she wore for effect rather than necessity.

      “Somewhat?” Evelyn scoffed. “At the very least it’s somewhat awkward. If I’m lucky, it will only be somewhat awkward. Somewhat awkward is the best I can hope for.”

      “He’s not stupid, you know, your husband, that is.”

      “I know that.” Evelyn sighed. “It would be much easier if he were.” She paced the width of her sitting room.

      Celeste was silent for a long moment. “You don’t want to do this at all, do you?”

      “Absolutely not.” Evelyn brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Ha! Just another indication of how distraught she was. Her locks did not stray from where she placed them. Ever. “Apparently, I have no choice. I thought it was over, in the past, behind me.”

      “You 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 СКАЧАТЬ