"The cover ..." Her gaze slipped to Evelyn's locket. "It matches the locket. How very clever."

"Men do like their toys."

Celeste nodded. "Indeed, but this particular toy identifies you to the courier and the book to you. And it is a lovely locket."

"If you like it ..." Evelyn put the book on her lap, unfastened the chain around her neck, and handed the necklace to her friend. "You may have it."

"Are you sure?" Celeste took the locket. "You may need it again, for another meeting perhaps."

"Then I shall borrow it from you if necessary. I don't want it." She shook her head. "Besides, I should have a difficult time explaining to Adrian a new piece of jewelry that is as personal as a locket."

"It is personal, isn't it?"

"Max, no doubt, found that amusing."

Celeste turned the locket over in her hand. "Did you open it?"

"I tried but it's either jammed or not designed to open. Regardless, it's served its purpose." Evelyn picked up the book. "Oddly enough, the courier didn't give this to me. An older gentleman said a young man, on his way out of the museum, asked him to deliver the book, saying I had dropped it."

"Couldn't the older man have been the courier?"

"Possibly but he never once looked at the locket."

"You noticed." Celeste grinned. "I have never been prouder."

"I wasn't bad at this, you know." Irritation sounded in Evelyn's voice. "I did learn a few helpful things."

"Of course you did." Celeste's eyes widened with feigned innocence. Celeste had worked for the department far longer than Evelyn did and was far more experienced.

Evelyn ignored her. "For whatever reason, the man entrusted with this decided not to approach me directly."

"How very interesting," Celeste murmured. "One has to wonder why."

"Or not read anything of significance into it," Evelyn said pointedly. "Both answers are tempting. But for now ..." She blew a resigned breath and opened the book.

"What is the t.i.tle?"

Evelyn leafed through the book one page at a time. "The Three Musketeers."

Celeste snorted. "How original of Sir Maxwell."

Evelyn paged through the first six chapters. On the seat opposite her, Celeste fiddled with the locket. Midway through the seventh chapter, Evelyn found a piece of paper, neatly folded and tucked tightly against the spine. "This is it."

She pulled the paper free, opened it, and read.

"Don't keep me in suspense. What does it say?"

"It's very brief." There were only a few lines written in Max's precise hand. "According to Max's information, he suspects Lord Dunwell to be in possession of the file."

"Why?"

"He doesn't say."

"I mean, why did he have to arrange for the theft, as I a.s.sume a viscount wouldn't hit a man over the head, take something from him, and leave him in a brothel." Celeste shrugged. "He's a member of Parliament. Wouldn't he just ask for the information?"

"One would think, but I doubt a mere request would provide the names he wants. Besides, it would make his interest known." Evelyn considered the question. "Its illicit acquisition would indicate his motives are not entirely aboveboard." Her gaze returned to the note. "It says here, if Dunwell has the file, it's likely to be among his personal papers in his library."

"I'm not sure I like his use of the word if."

"It gets worse." She sighed and met her friend's gaze. "Lord and Lady Dunwell are having a reception tomorrow night for the Spanish amba.s.sador, a distant relative of the Spanish royal family, I believe. Nonetheless, we had decided not to attend."

"Oh?" Celeste raised a brow. "I was certain I had sent an acceptance of the invitation."

"Yes, well, we had planned to beg off." Evelyn shrugged. "Send our regrets with some plausible explanation. Adrian is not at all fond of Dunwell. He finds him pompous and obnoxious and overbearing. And Lady Dunwell has never been one of my favorites. She has never gotten over losing Adrian although he says he had no real interest in her. Now, however, we shall have to attend."

"How will you explain your change of heart?"

"I'll think of something." Evelyn returned her attention to Maxwell's note. "He adds here that his information might not be accurate." She raised her gaze to meet her friend's. "And isn't that just b.l.o.o.d.y well perfect."

"Lady Waterston." Celeste gasped in mock dismay. "Such language."

"My language is the least of my worries," Evelyn said sharply. "I am about to search a man's library, which probably means a locked desk-"

Celeste scoffed. "A minor difficulty."

"In the midst of a reception with any number of distinguished guests and the Spanish amba.s.sador as well as my husband." She huffed. "d.a.m.nation."

"Speaking of your husband ..." Celeste's manner was cautious.

"Yes?"

"And my employer."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "I know who he is."

"I'm not entirely certain but ..."

"What is it?"

Celeste paused as if choosing her words. "When we arrived, I noticed a cab pull up on the other side of the street."

"And?"

"And it looked to me that the gentleman seated inside was Lord W. Of course, I could be wrong," she added quickly. "Indeed, I probably am."

"Probably." Evelyn's heart sank. Celeste's powers of observation were legendary.

"But I didn't really get a good look at the man," Celeste said. "Nothing more than a glimpse. He never got out of the carriage, and a few minutes after you went into the museum, he left."

"It doesn't strike you as odd that a cab stops at the museum, with a gentleman inside that may or may not be my husband, then does not leave the cab and instead drives off?"

"Not at all." Celeste paused. "Perhaps a little." She studied the other woman. "Do you think Lord W might have been following you?"

"Adrian?" She scoffed. "Never. To what end? Certainly, I didn't mention going to the museum, but that could well have been entirely innocent on my part. I've never given him any reason to distrust me." Although he had thought something was wrong last night. Regardless, she'd never known him to let his imagination get the best of him. "Besides, he's not the sort of man who would follow anyone, let alone his wife." She thought for a moment. "He would consider that sort of thing distasteful, even dishonorable."

"My thoughts exactly." A firm note sounded in Celeste's voice.

"Why, the very idea is ridiculous," Evelyn said under her breath and hoped she was right. "This whole situation is absurd. I am the Countess of Waterston with a very 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. d.a.m.n 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 compet.i.tive rivalry distasteful. Politics, he often said, isn't always a n.o.ble profession but should be. There was little n.o.ble 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 pa.s.sion 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 amba.s.sador 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.