My Wicked Little Lies Read Online Free PDF

and into the night. It was obvious she was distracted. He drew his brows together. His wife was never distracted. That she appeared so now was, in itself, most distracting.
    Adrian had been attempting to read for nearly an hour but instead found himself watching his wife. Certainly he’d read King Solomon’s Mines when the book had first been published several months ago, but lately he’d felt the need for a bit of adventure, even if it was fictitious. Not that life was dull or boring or tedious. On the contrary, between his duties as earl, his management of the family’s finances, business, and properties, and his seat in Parliament, life—his life—was extraordinarily full. Why, he scarcely ever had an unscheduled minute. If a certain restlessness had grown in recent months, perhaps even as long as the last year, it was no doubt to be expected. It had been two years, after all, since his brother Richard had died and Adrian had inherited a title and responsibilities he did not expect. Two years since he had married Evie, also unexpected but far more delightful. No doubt every man knew a touch of restlessness after two years of a proper and respectable life.
    Evie sighed and again tapped her pen absently on the table. His eyes narrowed slightly. Evelyn Turner Hadley-Attwater, the Countess of Waterston, never tapped her pen nor did she heave sighs of aimless frustration. This was not at all like her.
    Perhaps she, too, felt a stirring of unrest. He was not so foolish as to think that women, even those who had everything a woman could possibly want, were so different from men as to be immune to boredom. Indeed, Evie’s life before they had wed had been somewhat adventurous, what with her travel and social engagements and whatever. Not that they had ever really discussed her past or his, for that matter. He didn’t see the point. They had agreed from the first that essentially life had begun when they had met, that nothing before mattered or was at all significant. It was as accurate as it was romantic. His life was empty until she had entered it.
     
    She walks in beauty like the night.
     
    The poet’s words flashed through his mind as they had from the beginning. She was the epitome of grace and charm and intelligence, everything he’d ever wanted but hadn’t known was possible until her. The poem could have been written with his wife in mind. He’d thought the same from the first moment he’d looked into her brown eyes. The first time he’d heard her laughter across a crowded ballroom. The first time he held her hand in his. Adrian Hadley-Attwater—a bit of a rogue when it came to the fairer sex—had been lost the instant Miss Evelyn Turner’s gaze had met his and she’d smiled.
     
    Of cloudless climes and starry skies.
     
    Two years later, he was still lost.
    But was she? Tonight was the first time he’d noted any difference in her manner, but then would he have noticed? He prided himself on his powers of observation, but he was extremely busy, as was she. It was not uncommon for them to go a day or more with little contact between them save in passing at the breakfast table. Business and politics often kept him out late into the night, as did her charitable events. It scarcely mattered. He had no doubt she was as in love with him as he was with her.
    Admittedly, it was bothersome when his mind drifted on occasion to the fact that he was not the first man in her bed. But they’d married when she was twenty-seven, and she was, in most respects, a woman of sophistication. And his perfect match. He’d be the worst sort of hypocrite to condemn her for the same sort of activities he’d partaken of in his unmarried days, even if women were held to a higher standard. Still, it had been nice to discover she was not overly experienced although she was most enthusiastic. He bit back a grin. He doubted there was anything to compare to a wife with enthusiasm.
     
    And all that’s best of dark and bright