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heiress with a penchant for travel and parties. Without the wealth, of course,” she added wryly.

      “No, but you are now Lady Waterston, who is welcome at very nearly any social event.”

      “Yes, I suppose.”

      “Your presence would be unremarkable at those events where mine might be noted. In spite of my title and my family connections, I am little more than the head of an unimportant government office concerned with minimally important trade.”

      She sighed. “Go on.”

      “I am close to discovering where the file may be located. All I ask of you is to recover it.”

      “That’s all?”

      “That’s all,” he said quickly although it did seem he hesitated for no more than the beat of his heart. She might have been mistaken and it had been some time since she’d trusted—or needed to trust—her instincts, but instinct was telling her now that he was not being entirely forthright.

      “What aren’t you telling me?”

      He considered her question, obviously deciding how much to reveal. “The file contains the names of the last three men who headed this organization. The first died a few months ago.”

      She raised a brow. “By foul play?”

      “It’s impossible to say. He was elderly and appears to have died in his sleep. But you and I both know how easy it is to make death appear natural.”

      “Only by hearsay.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you recall, I was never in a position where such measures were necessary.”

      “Nor will you be now.” He shook his head. “It could well be coincidence especially since his death was several months ago. But it should not be discounted completely.”

      “Sir’s name is in that file, isn’t it?”

      “It is.”

      “I would think he would wish to handle this.” She thought for a moment. “Was this his idea? To bring me back?”

      “He knows nothing about it.”

      She pulled her brows together. “Don’t you think you should tell him?”

      “I see no need for that.” His gaze met hers. “Sir left the department at very nearly the same time you did.”

      “I see.” Relief again washed through her. She had no desire to resume their correspondence. Sir was a road not taken and such roads were best left in the past. She drew a deep breath. “The days of my slipping into a house in the dead of night are long over,” she warned. “As are my days of eliciting information by means of my charm alone.”

      “Understandable.” He nodded.

      “A certain amount of deceit will no doubt be necessary, but I have never lied to my husband and I do not intend to do so now.”

      “Come now, all women lie to their husbands.”

      “I don’t.” Indignation drew her brows together. “I have never had any need to.”

      “You’ve never hidden a bill from a dressmaker you did not want him to see?”

      “No.”

      “You’ve never said you were going one place when you went somewhere else altogether?”

      “Certainly not.”

      “You’ve never told your husband another gentleman’s flirtatious manner was less than it actually was?”

      “Of course not.” She cast him a pitying look. “You know nothing at all about women. Most of us do not lie as a matter of course. It’s not surprising that you aren’t married.”

      “I know a great deal about women, which is precisely why I am not married. And you all lie, each and every one of you.”

      She ignored him. “You should find a wife. You’re not getting any younger. Fair-haired men do not age well. All that boyish charm and that handsome face of yours will not last forever.”

      He cast her a devilish grin. “And yet, both continue to serve me well.”

      “You haven’t changed at all.” She rose to her feet and he stood. “Mark my words, one day you’re considered dashing and desirable and the next you’re a lecherous old goat.”

      He stared at her curiously. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

      “I have never been happier.”

      “You don’t miss the excitement of the chase? Of unraveling a riddle? Of ferreting out information that will expose a villain?”

      “Not in the least.” She shrugged. “I am sorry if that disappoints you.”

      “And your husband, is he happy as well?”

      “He has never given me reason to believe otherwise.” She smiled at the thought of her husband. Adrian was everything she’d ever wanted. A good man, kind and generous, he carried his responsibilities with ease and could be depended upon without question. That he was tall and handsome and not at all proper and restrained in their bed was an added bonus. And he loved her. What more could a woman want? “I want your assurance you will never call on me again after this. This is my final assignment.”

      “I can’t make that promise.”

      “Max.” A warning sounded in her voice.

      “Very well.” He huffed. “I shall make every effort.”

      “I assume you will contact me with further instructions.”

      He nodded. “Within the next few days.”

      “Very well.”

      She nodded and turned to leave, then turned back. “One more thing.”

      “Yes?”

      “If this ruins my marriage, my life, I will more than likely slit your throat. Or shoot you. Do not forget, I was well trained here. And I am an excellent shot. That I have not shot anyone or never slit a man’s throat does not mean I do not know how or that I will hesitate.” She leaned toward him and met his gaze. “Or perhaps I will simply cut off an appendage that I know is near and dear to you.”

      He winced. “Come now, Eve—”

      “You have my word, Max. My husband knows little about my past. If he learns—”

      “And you have my word,” he said firmly. “Your husband will not learn of your past association with this office from me.” He smiled with something that might possibly have been genuine affection. “You have trusted me in the past. Trust me on this.”

      She studied him for a moment, then heaved a frustrated sigh. “I suppose I have no choice.”

      “Truly, Evelyn, I would never do anything to destroy your happiness.”

      “See that you don’t.” She leveled him a hard look and sent a silent prayer heavenward that he hadn’t already.

      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

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