A Most Novel Revenge Read Free

guests.”
    â€œIt’s a beautiful animal,” Milo said, stepping forward to touch the shining chestnut coat. Milo loved horses. I suspected that part of the reason he had agreed to come, other than the opportunity to frighten me to death with hairpin turns, was that he had thought Reginald Lyons would have begun building up the stables at Lyonsgate now that he had returned. Milo liked to be sure that his horses were better than everyone else’s.
    â€œOh, here’s Henson,” Miss Lyons said as the door opened and the butler stepped out onto the portico. “Mr. and Mrs. Ames have arrived, Henson,” she called.
    â€œVery good, Miss Lucinda.”
    She turned back to us. “He’ll see to you. I’ll just bring Romeo back to the stables. Lovely meeting both of you.”
    Her eyes were still on Milo as she said this, and it seemed that she had to tear them from his face to begin leading her horse away.
    â€œA charming young woman,” Milo observed as we walked toward the house.
    â€œI expect you say so because she was properly dazzled by you.”
    â€œShe’s practically a child.”
    â€œâ€˜Practically a child’ and ‘a child’ are two very different things,” I replied dryly.
    Henson led us into the house, and a moment later Reginald Lyons came into the entrance hall to greet us. He was not quite what I had expected, not how I remembered Laurel describing him. He had a handsome, ruddy face and was quite tall and bit heavyset. He looked the part of a country squire in his tweeds and hunting boots.
    I didn’t see much resemblance to his sister, and I judged him to be perhaps ten or twelve years older than she was. If I remembered correctly, Lucinda had a different mother than Reggie and Beatrice. Reggie had the same honey-colored hair as his half sister, but his eyes were dark brown rather than blue, and there was something troubled about them, a weariness that belied his robust façade.
    â€œMr. and Mrs. Ames. Welcome to Lyonsgate,” he said in a hearty tone.
    â€œThank you for having us, Mr. Lyons. The house is lovely.”
    â€œThank you, thank you. I expect you’ll be looking for Laurel, but she’s out riding at the moment. Should be back soon enough.”
    â€œYour sister Lucinda just came back from her ride,” I told him. “She’s a charming young woman.”
    â€œI was admiring her horse,” Milo said. “It’s an excellent animal.”
    Something flickered across Mr. Lyons’s face, and then he nodded. “Thank you. I do enjoy horses. I’ll give you a tour of the stables later, if you like.”
    â€œI should like it very much indeed.”
    â€œI suppose first you’d like to be shown to your rooms…”
    Before he could finish his sentence, there was movement on the staircase behind him.
    A tall, dark, and very beautiful woman descended them to meet us in the entrance hall. I had never met her before, but I recognized her well enough.
    It was Isobel Van Allen.

 
    2
    I WAS VERY surprised to see her standing there, especially after the events we had been discussing only this morning. What she was doing here rather than in the wilds of Kenya, I couldn’t imagine.
    She didn’t look any older than I remembered her being in all the society photographs, except for perhaps a bit of tightness around her eyes. She was still a stunningly beautiful woman, poised and almost regal, her flawless skin apparently untouched by the scorching rays of the African sun. She was nearly as tall as Milo in her heeled shoes, and her slim figure looked as though it had been designed for the French fashions she wore. The scent of her expensive perfume hovered in the air around her as she came toward us.
    â€œMrs. Ames, isn’t it? How good of you to come.”
    It was, I thought, something of an odd thing for a woman who was not our hostess to say, but perhaps she was acting as