Before Eve could voice a complaint, her inebriated butler, beaming moronically, walked to the door to the left of the large china cabinet. Unfortunately, this door led only to the small informal dining room, and not where he needed to go.
"Ahem. Teeter, I do believe the wine cellar door is located near the kitchen," Adam said.
Teeter looked confused.
"I do believe the kitchen door is the one over there," the stranger who was absolutely not Eve's husband continued, pointing. Eve's jaw tightened in disbelief.
Teeter bowed slightly to Adam. "Of course, sir. Be right…" Then he hiccupped and found the correct exit. With starched politeness he said, "Be right back with your port."
With his ham-sized fist, Teeter threw open the door, causing it to slam with its usual force against the dining room wall. Then, turning crookedly in the doorway, he added with an attempt at pomp, "May I be the fi—hic—rst to say that we are p-proud to have you home, sir. Dr. Eve has mis—hic—sed you something fierce."
Eve's eyes widened, and she found herself being seated back in her place at the table. She was dumbfounded, her mind whirling. How did this rogue know where the kitchen door was, as well as her wine cellar? This was beyond strange, and heading into the totally bizarre, which most likely meant that her infernally interfering father was involved. She would bet a treasure chest of jewels on it. She was going to keelhaul her father and boil this heinous not-husband in oil. How dared either of them trap her like this?
"Carpe diem," she mumbled. But first she had to seize the tricksters.
Seating himself, her husband leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Seize the day. I believe Virgil said it best—fortune to the bold." When she remained stubbornly silent, deliberately ignoring his presence, he added outrageously, "Oh, my sweet, we're in agreement! This bodes well for our future, don't you think? How fortunate we are that great minds think alike."
Glaring at the seductive stranger now seated next to her, she said in a softly menacing voice, "I'll feed you to the fishes, make you walk the plank!"
"The only plank I'm walking is one that leads to your bed," he replied, hiding his grin behind a napkin.
Teeter suddenly appeared, wearing a similar smirk. "I took the liberty of bringing you the port from Provence."
"Thank you, Teeter," said Adam. "You always know just what I want and when I want it. Remarkable quality in good help."
The butler sighed, his squinty eyes tearing up. "And young love is a fine sight to behold."
Eve stared at both men as if they'd grown four heads. Her butler hadn't met this conniver before tonight; how could he? Serve him just what he wants? Ha! She'd serve his liver to the eels!
"Transylvania? It must be lovely this time of year. All that snow," Dr. Crane spoke up.
"Of course," Adam agreed, addressing the whole table. "But I must say that I am glad to be in England again with my beautiful wife. I hate to admit it, but I had almost forgotten what Eve looked like." Turning back to her, he smirked. "You were just a portrait before I came here tonight. And I must say, I'm quite impressed. Also with what you've done with the Towers. Quite the thing, you know." Turning to the others, he added playfully, though with a most sincere expression, "What else is a good wife for but to run the asylum?"
Dr. Sigmund concurred, and his own dear wife gave him a speaking glance.
With lightning reflexes, like a participant in a fast country dance, Adam switched his attention back to Eve. "Have you missed me more than I missed you, or vice versa, I wonder? I will be bold and say I missed you more."
Her eyes hard, Eve maintained an insincere smile. "How could I miss you when you're always in my mind?"
"How romantic." Countess Caligari sighed, then looked at her fat, balding husband with mild disgust.
"And Adam Griffin is a man of many faces," Eve continued. Then, in a whispered aside to the impostor: "And all of them are scheming and crooked."
"Temper, temper," he replied in her ear, pretending a kiss. "What would the good doctors think? How would polite society feel about you lying all these years? How would your patients feel to know that their doctor had been telling tall tales, falsifying a marriage, and lying through her pretty white teeth?"
Honesty was paramount in building trust. Measuring her opponent's size and mettle, Eve revised her earlier punishment. Walking the plank over shark-infested waters would be too good for him.
"The plate, Teeter," Adam reminded the servant, lifting an aristocratic brow at the butler, who was leaning heavily against the buffet. "I find I am rather hungry after my long and difficult journey back to my bride."
Eve had just decided nastily that perhaps a little revenge could be served hot, lifting her foot to give the odious man a kick, when her guests' gasps made her switch her attention. Teeter was attempting to make a half bow. Swaying once or twice, the butler's big frame threatened to topple over. He said, "I shall get your plate, Dr. Griffin, as soon as the room stops spinning."
Eve held her breath for the umpteenth time on this horrid, horrid night. The big souse was going to land straight on the table by the stewed prunes!
Eve managed to remain seated, though she wanted to howl in misery. How had her life become this farce? In one fell swoop, she had found that she had a traitor for a father, a drunk for a butler, and a liar for a husband who was probably also a confidence man, scheming his way into women's lives and robbing them blind.
"What an absolutely dreadful butler—all that banging and lurching about. The things we put up with in servants. I find this quite distressing," Countess Caligari stated, her thin lips quivering in distaste, her small eyes glinting. "I have an employment agency that might help you find someone more suitable. They provide the best servants for all the best houses. But… perhaps they are short of staff now." The way she spoke, Eve felt sure that the countess doubted whether Eve's house was good enough for the best servants—maybe even for the worst ones.
"I thank you, Countess. Your sincere offer is most kind," Eve replied. Then, under her breath: "Keelhauling is too good for Teeter. Instead I shall chop him into little bitty pieces and feed him to the fishes."
Having heard his wife's testy comment, the man called Adam leaned over, murmuring to her in a conspiratorial tone, "My, my, such bloodthirst for someone not a vampire. Besides, I thought that was what you were going to do to me—feed me to the fishes. Or have you changed your mind?"
Ignoring his charismatic manner, Eve thought hard for a moment. Slowly she smiled, a smile of pure devious intent. The daft trickster thought he had her leg-shackled and trapped, but he was wrong.
"Ship ahoy!" she whispered. She wasn't her father's daughter for nothing, and nobody—even if that nobody became a somebody—was going to trick her and get away with it. Besides, hadn't her grandmother always said that necessity was the mother of invention? Eve was far more inventive than most. And soon the affable Adam wouldn't be a fictional husband, but history.
Chapter Six
Adam's Ribbing
Adam couldn't take his eyes off his so-called wife. There was something in her finely shaped features that smote his heart. Her voice was husky and deep, almost too much for such a small package, and her demeanor was both demure and full of militant determination. That wasn't altogether surprising, since her father had relayed that Eve was like a little admiral when she wanted something, demanding and commandeering, What a delight his marriage bed would undoubtedly be! In fact, if his luck held, so-called wedded bliss might be just that. That was, he thought, rubbing his chin, if he could get his new wife to quit shooting daggers with her eyes. If looks could kill, he would have been dead twenty minutes ago.