"Come in."

Vincent entered the room carrying a tray bearing a steaming pot of coffee. Adrian much preferred coffee to tea in the morning. Or afternoon, as it were. Vincent set down the tray and closed the door behind him. "Good day, my lord."

Adrian grinned. "And an excellent day it is, too, Vincent."

"Then I gather all went well last night, sir?" Vincent poured a cup and handed it to him.

"Better than I had hoped for." Adrian took a sip. Excellent. It always was but today it tasted even better than usual.

"And Lady Waterston is none the worse for her ordeal?"

Adrian shook his head. "That was an error, Vincent."

Vincent's brow twitched. "In judgment, sir?"

"No," he said sharply. "In communication."

"I see." The valet moved to the wardrobe and opened its doors.

Adrian narrowed his eyes. "What, exactly, do you see?"

Vincent selected Adrian's clothes for the day. "You would never do anything to place Lady Waterston in danger."

"Never," Adrian said indignantly.

"Of course not." Vincent laid Adrian's clothes out on the bed. "One more thing, sir." He stepped to the tray, picked up an envelope Adrian hadn't noticed, and handed it to him. "A message arrived for you a few minutes ago from Sir Maxwell, I believe."

Adrian accepted the envelope. "And was there a message last night as well?"

Vincent nodded. "It was on the table near the front entry. It arrived after you had left, but its arrival was not brought to my attention. I was not aware of it until moments before you and Lady Waterston returned to the house. At that point, it seemed moot."

"You read it then?"

"It has long been part of my job to relay Sir Maxwell's missives when you are not present." Vincent cast him a vaguely disapproving look. "Unless you prefer that I no longer do so."

"No, of course not. We have always worked well together."

"I took the liberty of placing it in your desk drawer."

Adrian breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Vincent's noncommittal expression was that of a perfectly trained valet. Adrian knew better.

He rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. "Out with it. What are you thinking?"

"May I-"

"Yes, yes, speak freely."

"If I recall correctly, sir, while Lady Waterston's activities with the department were not as extensive as yours, or mine either as your second, she did receive training in the handling of firearms."

"And?"

"And she was quite proficient if I remember correctly." No more than the hint of a smile touched Vincent's lips. "Something of a natural gift, I believe."

"And?" Impatience sounded in Adrian's voice.

"And should she find out the truth about last night and everything else from any source other than you, I would not put it past her to shoot you." Vincent's eyes narrowed no more than a fraction. "And she is an excellent shot."

"I intend to tell her everything," Adrian said staunchly. "Not today perhaps but soon."

"Of course, sir."

"I will."

"I don't doubt it, sir." He paused. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, you may take your leave." Adrian drew a deep breath. "Vincent?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"I know you thought our days of intrigue were over, but they may not be. Oh, nothing like before. I would be more of an advisor than anything else and only on rare occasions. Still, I would require your a.s.sistance as always." He studied the valet. "Would you be amenable to a bit of a change?"

"My allegiance is to you, my lord, and without question I would do my job as you see fit." He paused. "Might I add you are not the only one who has experienced a bit of restlessness of late. However ..."

Adrian raised a brow. "However?"

"It is one thing to engage in secretive activities when one is free to do as one wishes. Quite another when one has a wife."

"I said I will tell her."

"Yes, of course, sir." Vincent nodded but Adrian knew the valet didn't believe him for a moment. Nonetheless, Adrian fully intended to tell his wife everything. When the right moment presented itself. "Then if there's nothing else, sir?"

"No, thank you, Vincent."

Vincent nodded and took his leave. Obviously only action would prove to the valet Adrian's good intentions. His attention turned to the note from Max. No doubt his friend wanted to apologize for last night's debacle in hopes Adrian would agree to consult with the department. Obviously, as proven by recent incidents, the department needed him. Adrian chuckled. Although Max would be more inclined to twist the situation and imply Adrian needed the department.

He opened the envelope and read the brief, curt message. His jaw clenched.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

Chapter 22.

It was amazing how a little danger and rescue by one's very courageous husband could prove most intoxicating to one's spirits. Evelyn couldn't remember when she had been quite so euphoric. Why, she felt like she was in the first throes of love. She wasn't, of course, although apparently love reaffirmed was every bit as exciting as love newly discovered.

Adrian had been called away to a meeting but had kissed her quite soundly before he left with a promise to continue today what they had so thoroughly enjoyed last night. And again this morning. There was a great deal to be said about finding one's soul mate, and they were indeed made for one another. Evelyn smiled in a manner that an observer could only describe as satisfied. Body as well as soul.

She was grateful to have him and, indeed, grateful to be alive and well with nothing to show for her ordeal save a bruise on her forehead and a ruined gown. Still, there were two things about last night that continued to plague her. One she couldn't quite put her finger on. It lingered in the back of her mind, just out of reach. No doubt it was nothing of importance. Still, it was bothersome.

The other was the amount of the ransom. No matter how often she had asked last night, Adrian had refused to tell her the amount. It was a point of pride with him, she supposed, although that was really rather silly. She was the one who had been abducted, after all, and she would very much like to know what she was worth. She paused in midstep. Perhaps he had bargained with them. Offered less than they had asked. Good Lord! Had he acquired her at a discount? No, surely not, nor did it matter. Besides, the entire episode had taken place much too quickly for there to have been any sort of negotiations.

She headed toward Adrian's library. With any luck at all, the ransom note would be lying forgotten on the desk. Her husband certainly had far more on his mind when they had returned home. She pushed open the door and crossed the room to the large, mahogany desk. It had been well cared for and the years had aged it gently, adding a warm patina. It was the kind of piece that stayed in a family for generations, linking one to the next. Indeed, it had been Adrian's father's and his father's before that. And with any luck at all, it would one day be their son's.

There was nothing on the desktop save a desk set: matching inkwell, blotter, pen tray, letter rack, paper knife, and small box for holding odds and ends. Bronze with a decorative, embossed Greek key design, the set was more a work of art than mere craftsmanship. She had given it to him as a wedding gift because of his love of Greek antiquities. He had given her a choker of perfect pearls.

Evelyn sat down in Adrian's comfortable leather chair and considered her options. He would surely show her what he had locked in his drawers should she ask. Her husband had nothing to hide, after all. Still, for whatever reason, he did not wish to reveal the amount of the ransom, and she knew herself well enough to know that that fact alone would eat at her until she uncovered the truth. Besides, once she knew the amount, she saw no reason to let him know she knew. If he wanted to keep what he'd paid for her safety his secret, she would allow him to do so. Once she found out, of course.

She studied the desk carefully. Like Lord Dunwell's, each of the drawers had its own separate lock although the chances were the same key would open every drawer. She could certainly open the locks although it did seem, well, somewhat distasteful to pick the locks on her own husband's desk. Not that he would know. Not that he had anything to hide. But it would be easier to find the key.

She flipped open the bronze box. It was empty. Why on earth would one have a box for trinkets if one had no trinkets in it? Very well then. Where would her efficient, organized husband hide a key? She felt under the top desk drawer, in all the nooks one might conceal a key, then bent down and looked under the desk and under the chair as well. Nothing. She looked under the pen tray and the blotter, picked up and examined the empty letter rack-again why have one if you didn't use it?-as well as the paper knife. She looked under the inkwell, then carefully removed the ink-filled gla.s.s insert. Nothing. She resisted the urge to stick a pen in the ink to see if perchance there was a key at the bottom.

Nonsense. What was she doing? Her husband had nothing to hide. Although for a man with nothing to hide, he certainly did take care not to leave his key lying about. He was simply prudent, that's all. Still ...

In two years she hadn't had the tiniest desire to look in her husband's desk. Now, something inside her was demanding she do so. Something that had nothing to do with the amount paid for her ransom. Besides, without knowing it, he had turned this into a challenge.

She drummed her fingers on the blotter thoughtfully. Where would a man like Adrian Hadley-Att.w.a.ter hide a key? He'd always liked puzzles and obviously hiding his key was his idea of an intriguing puzzle. But who did he think would try to work it out? It was a most interesting question although probably of no real significance. No, this was no doubt a game her husband was playing, if only with himself.

Her gaze slid around the room. Past the shelves with their neatly arranged volumes. Past the family portraits and the tall windows until she focused again on the items on the desk. The inkwell, the blotter, the box, the tray, the rack, the knife. Absently, she traced the Greek key design on the blotter corners. The bronze glowed dully in the sunlight. It really was a lovely set ...

At once the answer struck her and she laughed. Oh, he was a clever beast, that husband of hers. She rose to her feet, moved to a bookshelf, and pulled out a wooden case designed to look like a book. Adrian had four such cases, each with two layers of ancient Greek coins nestled in padded holders. But this case held his favorites. She brought the case to the desk and opened the lid.

Here there were coins of gold and silver bearing the likenesses of G.o.ds or G.o.ddesses, or the symbols of city-states. Some of the coins were more than two thousand years old. Adrian had been collecting them since he was a boy. Today, his collection was invaluable. Odd, that he would have his coins simply sitting on shelves, yes, disguised as books but still not overly protected, yet the key to his desk was well hidden. She never would understand the minds of men.

She carefully lifted out the first layer of coins, then the second. She resisted the impulse to laugh in triumph. A key lay in the bottom of the case and she promptly picked it up. When she was finished, she would put the case and its contents back together, precisely as it had been. She had no desire to have her husband learn she'd been, well, snooping.

Evelyn decided to try the middle drawer first. She sat down, inserted the key, turned it, and pulled open the drawer. She studied the neatly arranged contents but resisted the urge to touch. It looked like nothing more than correspondence. Still, it would be the perfect place to store a ransom demand.

A familiar handwriting caught her eye, and she picked up a note lying on top of the others. How strange, it was from Max. She didn't think he and Adrian were more than pa.s.sing acquaintances. Quickly, she scanned the note. It made no sense at all. Confusion drew her brows together. It sounded as if Max had arranged her abduction so that Adrian ... Surely, she wasn't reading this correctly.

Carefully, she paged through the remaining correspondence until she found one in her own hand. How very sweet of the dear man, to have saved a letter from her. She picked it up.

My dear Sir, I am at once eager and filled with regret to write this missive to you as it shall be my last ...

This was absurd. This was the last letter she had written to Sir. She riffled through the rest of the letters. Why, these were all notes she had written to Sir. And here. She grabbed another page. This one was in Sir's distinctive hand and unfinished.

My Dearest Eve, Your note brought a smile to my face but then your notes often have ...

She'd never read this before. How would Adrian get this?

I shall miss them. As this last exchange seems to be one of confessions, I have some of my own ...

What on earth? Why would Adrian have her notes to Sir? And why would Adrian have a half-written note from Sir?

If he had seen you tonight, he might well have changed his mind about marriage.

That was it. The detail she couldn't put her finger on. While Adrian had seen her gown when it had arrived, he had not seen her dressed in her costume last night. But Sir had.

The oddest thought struck her. Surely not. What a ridiculous idea. It couldn't possibly be true.

A man only says nothing in your pasts matters when he has more to hide than you do.

More to hide? Abruptly the truth slammed into her and her breath caught.

Adrian and Sir were one and the same?

Tiny details from their life at once made sense. Why she felt she'd known him forever when they first met. Why he saw no need for her to tell him of her past. He already knew very nearly everything there was to know about her past. He was a huge part of it!

She narrowed her eyes. Last night he had tried to seduce her as Sir. Tried to get her to say Sir was the man she loved. Worse, he had interrogated her!

Why did you marry him?

Do you love him enough to forgive him?

She gasped.

He implied she had married him for money and position!

There have never been secrets between us.

Hah! There had apparently been secrets between them from the moment they met face-to-face! And all of them his! How could he have kept this from her? How could he- The door to the library opened and Celeste poked her head in. "There you are. Stewart said you might be in here."

"And indeed I am," Evelyn said through clenched teeth. If she'd thought she had been angry when he'd burst in on Beryl and Lord Radington, that paled in comparison to this. The man had been lying to her for two years! She drew a deep breath and carefully replaced everything she had taken from the drawer exactly as she had found it.

"I have something to tell you." Celeste closed the door and crossed the room to the desk.

"I have something to tell you as well." Evelyn studied the arrangement of the desk drawer, satisfied it was precisely as it had been, then closed the drawer and locked it.

"What are you doing?" Celeste's brow furrowed.

"I am engaging in, oh, let's call it revelation." She placed the key in the bottom of the coin case.

"What?" Celeste shook her head. "Never mind."

"You cannot imagine what I have discovered."

Evelyn replaced both layers of coins, closed the case, and crossed to the bookshelf.

Celeste snorted. "It cannot possibly be as shocking as what I have learned."

Evelyn slid the case into its s.p.a.ce on the shelf, turned to her friend, and drew a deep breath. "Adrian is Sir."

At the very same moment Celeste announced, "Sir is Lord W."