Free A Second Chance for Murder by Ann Lacey Page A

helplessly as shy, innocent Floris, blushing, profusely accepted. Thora seethed. She wanted to scream at Floris, to warn her that under Leedworthy’s guise of harmless bookworm hid a rake. If only she had been able to tell Lord Huntscliff about Leedworthy and ask his advice. Where was the man? Then, as if by magic, Lord Huntscliff appeared, filling the doorframe of the breakfast room.
    Garren entered as Viscount Simon-North was returning to his seat with a cup of tea for Thora. He watched Simon-North lean over Thora, getting a clear view of the swell of her breast as he set her cup down. The urge to smash his fist into the man’s nose surged through his veins once more. Controlling his desire to disfigure Simon-North, he helped himself to some breakfast and sat opposite Thora.
    It didn’t take a sleuth to realize she had something on her mind based on the amusing facial expressions she threw at him. Garren returned a brief acknowledging nod. He doubted she had learned anything significant since last evening, but he was pleased to know that she wanted to bring it to him.
    The group gathered in the breakfast room grew as they were joined by their host, Lord Somerville, and Lord Avery Flemington, and a few moments later by Marquis Calder Brightington.
    “I’ve just been to the stables and told the grooms to start saddling the horses for this morning’s ride,” Nyle announced.
    “Unfortunate that your recent injury will keep you from joining us, Huntscliff,” Marquis Brightington remarked, sitting down next to him. “But it would be unwise since the course is a rigorous one, swinging round the village and then back.”
    While Huntscliff expressed his disappointment, Thora silently wondered what type of injury would keep him from participating in the ride. She would have asked him but refrained, thinking it might have been the reason he left the Royal Guardians. Not wanting to put him in a difficult position, she remained silent. Regardless of the reason, it was a stroke of luck that he wasn’t going with the rest of the men. It would give her the opportunity to speak to him alone about what she had witnessed the previous night.
    Finishing their food, the men who planned to ride gathered in the center hall to collect their hats, riding gloves, and riding crops from waiting servants.
    Thora overheard Viscount Simon-North and Marquis Brightington making a wager of some sort as they donned their gloves. Her eyes hardened when she heard Sandler Leedworthy poetically express to a flushed Floris how much he was looking forward to their carriage ride later that afternoon.
    With smooth, confident steps, Viscount Simon-North moved next to Thora. “Thank you for allowing me to share breakfast with you, Lady Thora. Perhaps, you’ll honor me at lunch by doing the same.”
    Mason, in his role as servant, was virtually ignored by the group. Smirking, he whispered to Garren, “Seems you have competition, my lord!”
    After giving Mason a menacing look, he turned quickly to the Viscount Simon-North. “You’re out of luck, Simon-North, Lady Thora already promised to sit with me at lunch.” Again he could feel his fingers itching to curl into a fist ready to strike out at the handsome viscount.
    Doing her best to hide her surprise, Thora confirmed Garren’s words. “Yes, I did promise to join Lord Huntscliff this afternoon, and I do hope you’ll keep your promise to tell me just how much my brother misbehaved during the time he was away at school.”
    “It may astonish you, dear sister, but I was an exemplary student,” Nyle said as he put on his riding gloves.
    “That’s only because you never got caught, brother dear,” Thora returned teasingly, drawing a round of laughter and a smile from Nyle.
    He good-naturedly replied, “You know me too well, Thora.”
    As those who would ride left for the stables, Floris hastily excused herself and hurried upstairs.
    No doubt to pick a new dress for her outing with the undeserving