Free A Most Novel Revenge by Ashley Weaver

at him. He stood on the step below me, and our faces were nearly level.
    â€œYou don’t object to my having gone riding, surely?”
    â€œCertainly not,” I replied mildly. And I meant it. I didn’t begrudge Lucinda Lyons a bit of fun. I only hoped that Milo’s attentions would not give her the wrong impression. It would not do for a lonely and very pretty young woman to fall in love with my husband.
    â€œI’d much rather ride with you, in any event,” he said. “Will you go out with me tomorrow?”
    â€œIf you like.”
    â€œI would. You’re a much better horsewoman than Miss Lyons. Besides, I like the way you look in your riding trousers.” He dropped a kiss on my lips then patted me most inappropriately to prod me up the stairs.
    Before I could move, however, I heard the sound of voices. I realized at once that it was Isobel Van Allen and Desmond Roberts. They must have come from one of their rooms. We had stopped at the top of the stairway, and had not yet turned the corner into the corridor.
    It was immediately apparent that the conversation was of a very personal nature, and it was too late to make our presence known without causing additional awkwardness.
    â€œBut I don’t understand,” Mr. Roberts said. “Why must you be so secretive?”
    â€œOh, Desmond, don’t be tiresome.”
    â€œYou always treat me as though I’m a child,” he told her in a sulky voice that did nothing to belie his accusation.
    â€œI don’t enjoy you when you’re disagreeable, my pet,” she said lightly. “You know perfectly well that no one is going to read my book until I’ve sent it to my publisher. That includes you.”
    I looked at Milo. He raised his brows.
    â€œI don’t see why you should treat me this way, after all that we have been through together. After all we mean to one another.”
    â€œYou know how much you mean to me, but that doesn’t change anything.”
    â€œIt should,” he said. “It should change everything.”
    When her next words came they had dropped all hint of the caressing tone she had used only moments before. “Listen to me,” she said sharply. “I am tired of your whining and your demands. Remember this: I took you out of nothing, made something of you. I owe you nothing.
    â€œI will not have you, or anyone else, tell me what I will or will not do. Do you understand me?”
    He must have indicated that he understood, for her next words held less venom.
    â€œDon’t look downcast, my sweet. You’ll find out soon enough. Everyone will.”
    â€œYes, but please, Isobel. I … don’t be angry with me. I adore you. You know I do.”
    â€œI know,” she said soothingly. “Come back into my room, Desmond.”
    He apparently obeyed, for I heard the door close and silence fell.
    â€œâ€˜Walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,’” Milo quoted in a low voice.
    â€œShe’s treating that boy rather cruelly,” I said.
    â€œHe’s not a child. He knows what he’s doing.”
    â€œI don’t know that he does,” I mused. It seemed to me that Desmond Roberts was desperately in love with a woman to whom he meant very little.
    â€œIt does seem the fight’s gone out of him,” Milo admitted. “I would suspect he doesn’t like being ‘her pet,’ but she’s got her claws in deep. Well, he’s not the first. It’s always been her specialty, you know, bending men to her will. I always found it rather repulsive.”
    I could see now why Milo had never fallen sway to her charms. Even at a young age, he would not have wanted to be just another of her admirers, throwing his heart at her feet with reckless abandon. Passionate adoration wasn’t in his nature. He was much too used to being the center of attention to fall into orbit around someone else’s star.
    As