My Wicked Little Lies by Victoria Alexander

exactly whom he was trying to convince.
    Vincent cleared his throat.
    Adrian knew that sound. “Well?”
    “Well what, sir?”
    “Well, tell me whatever it is you are thinking.”
    “I daresay you won’t like it.”
    “I don’t expect to like it.”
    “Permission to speak freely then?”
    “Because you haven’t spoken freely up to now?” Adrian glared. “I know exactly what you’re doing, you know.”
    “Do you, sir?”
    “You think the longer this discussion goes on, the more likely I am to come to my senses. To look at all this rationally.”
    “You have always been a rational man.”
    “Well, it won’t work. Not this time. There is no need for me to come to my senses because I have not lost them.” His brows drew together. “The facts speak for themselves.” He ticked the points off his fingers. “Her manner has been odd of late. She went to the museum without mentioning it to me.”
    Vincent gasped. “Oh no, sir, not the museum.”
    “Sarcasm, Vincent, is unbecoming in a servant.”
    “I beg your forgiveness, my lord.”
    Adrian ignored the sarcastic note in the other man’s voice and continued, “She slipped away to meet someone in Dunwell’s library. Soon thereafter, that scoundrel Radington arrived, all too delighted to see my wife, I might add. The man surreptitiously slipped a note into his pocket, obviously to hide it from me, the unsuspecting husband. A note which, no doubt, arranged an assignation. And the stationery ...” He paused for emphasis. “Was cream in color.”
    Vincent stared in confusion.
    “My wife’s stationery is cream in color,” he said pointedly.
    “Ah, well, there you have it then.” Vincent shook his head. “Cream isn’t at all a common color for a lady’s stationery.”
    “Sarcasm, Vincent.”
    “My apologies, sir.”
    “I am simply looking at the evidence as presented and drawing an inescapable conclusion.”
    “Which might well be wrong.”
    “Bloody hell, I hope so.” Adrian blew a long breath. “Surely you can understand why I have to know for certain?”
    Vincent wisely held his tongue.
    “Now, what were you thinking?”
    “Very well, sir. If you insist.” Vincent considered him for a moment. “You said a certain restlessness was to be expected in a man after two years of proper behavior.”
    Adrian nodded.
    “Might the same not be expected of a woman?”
    “Exactly.” Triumph rang in Adrian’s voice. “That’s my point.”
    “However, in your restlessness, you have not turned to women other than your wife.”
    “Never,” Adrian said indignantly.
    “Then why do you expect Lady Waterston’s behavior to be less honorable than your own?”
    “Women are fragile, delicate creatures who do not know their own minds and are easily swayed,” Adrian said staunchly.
    Vincent snorted. “I would not let your wife hear you say such a thing, sir.”
    “I’m not an idiot, Vincent.”
    “Dare I say, sir, that I should like to meet the man who could sway Lady Waterston. Other than yourself, of course,” the valet added quickly.
    “Admittedly even I cannot often dissuade her from something she is intent upon.”
    “It has been my observation of Lady Waterston that she is as honorable and loyal as she is lovely.”
    Adrian shrugged. “I have always thought so.”
    “Might I suggest then, sir, that it is only your own imagination and your own restlessness that have brought you to this, no doubt, erroneous conclusion.”
    “I am truly hoping I am wrong, Vincent.”
    “Might I also say, sir, that should Lady Waterston ever discover the lengths you are going to, to prove or disprove your suspicions, she will be most distressed.”
    Adrian shuddered. “She’d be bloody well furious.”
    “And could one blame her, sir?”
    “She cannot ever find out.”
    Vincent continued as if Adrian hadn’t said a word. “Especially if, as I am confident, there is nothing untoward to discover?”
    The man was infuriatingly impertinent and should be