Free A Second Chance for Murder by Ann Lacey Page B

Sandler Leedworthy, Thora inwardly sneered.
    “I need to talk to you,” she urgently told Lord Huntscliff, taking hold of his arm.
    The warmth of her touch sent a flash of white lightning through his body and he let her lead him down a side hall where she dragged him into a small recess. With her hand on his arm, he would have let her bring him into hellfire without protest. Huddled together, front-to-front, they were so close that the delicate lace ruffle that trimmed the bodice of her gown brushed teasingly against his waistcoat. A hint of rose-scented soap wafting from her dark locks had him wanting to bury his face in their softness and it took great effort to concentrate as large blue eyes gazed up at him and enticing pink lips began to form words.
    “Last night, I saw Cecilia go into—” she started when Garren cut her off.
    “Sandler Leedworthy’s room,” he stated.
    “How . . . how did you know?” Thora stammered in surprise.
    “I’m an investigator,” he said, ignoring the astonishment in her eyes. Mentally he noted that he had been right about the more than cordial look he had seen pass between Lady Cecilia and Leedworthy last night and would need to keep a closer tab on the bookworm. What concerned him more was Thora. It was late when they left the library. Just how did she stumble upon this information? Even after receiving a warning from himself and Nyle to be careful, she was still playing detective. He forced himself to give Thora a stern glare as he questioned, “And how did you happen to see this, Lady Thora?”
    Thora gave him a sheepish look before lowering her eyes. “I went down to the kitchen for a glass of milk,” she replied, keeping her gaze lowered.
    “You went alone in the middle of the night. In a house this size, you could have been accosted, pushed into some darkened corner or closet, or worse, outside where no one would have heard your cries for help,” he scolded. With two long fingers, he gently pushed up her chin so that their eyes met. “Miss Mannington, I must again stress the importance of being vigilant.”
    Thora hadn’t thought for a second last night that she might have been in danger in her own home, but she had to confess that Lord Huntscliff was right. She lifted her gaze and their eyes locked, his so dark and unreadable, yet so penetrating. As if he were looking into her soul. What a little fool she must appear. The only excuse she could offer was that she was new at being an investigator. Remorsefully, she said, “I guess I just didn’t think. It was just that I didn’t want to bother the servants, after . . . well, after Mercer’s death.” She gave him a pleading look. “You won’t tell my brother, will you?”
    Garren remained silent. Not to consider her question but to take advantage of the moment. He wanted to take a minute or two to study her lovely upturned face, the delicate curve of her brow, the creamy smoothness of her ivory skin, so striking against her dark hair, her mouth and full lips that he longed to taste. He could go on exploring her for hours. Finally, he answered, “Nyle doesn’t need to know about your late-night wandering but”—he warned—“should you put yourself at risk again, you will leave me no choice but to inform him.”
    Thora gave a sigh of relief. “I realize now that you are right. I should have never gone downstairs alone,” Thora said repentantly before giving him her promise. “You have my word that I will use more caution.”
    Seeing he had made his point, Garren’s voice lightened. “Tell me, what do you make of this tryst between Cecilia Boothwell and Mr. Sandler Leedworthy?”
    “I think it’s disgraceful. How can she look my brother in the face after sneaking off with another?” Thora said critically, her lovely pink lips curling into a sneer. “And Cecilia’s a fool.”
    “A fool?” Garren asked, raising a brow.
    “Yes, Sandler Leedworthy is just using her. This morning at breakfast he flirted