A Second Chance for Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

friend, Huntscliff, don’t you, Thora?”
    Thora’s mouth dropped. It couldn’t be. The only Garren she remembered was a thin, lanky lad who used his long legs to distance himself from her, not this tall, disturbingly masculine, rugged-featured man who came charging into the library like some fierce, ancient warrior. It suddenly came back to her. Huntscliff, of course! The shield on the carriage and the figure inside it was the symbol for Orion, the sign of the hunter. She had seen it often when he had visited as a youth. She hadn’t known him as Huntscliff then. So he had inherited his father’s title and was now an earl. Finding her tongue, she managed, “You’ve changed since your last visit, my lord.”
    The handsome man swept an appraising eye over her before saying with a widening grin, “I’m not the only one, Miss Mannington.”
    So it had been Thora at the window, Garren realized. Nyle had said she had changed, but that was an understatement. He could hardly believe that the girl he remembered as having beanpole legs and a chest flatter than a floor board had blossomed into the curvaceous creature before him. Her rounded breasts proudly jutted above the narrowest waist he had seen on a woman. Gone were the two tightly twined plaits replaced by a mass of curls the color of dark chocolate, which swept up from her face and made a striking contrast against her creamy skin. Yet her eyes were the same, like the bright, blue waters surrounding some tropical isle. So clear. So large and so beguiling. Good Lord, man, control yourself, he chided inwardly. She’s Nyle’s sister!
    With his eyes firmly planted on Thora, it took him a moment to realize that one of the other ladies was addressing him. Reluctantly, he turned and looked down at Lauryn, the most petite of the group.
    “My lord,” she started, “how is it that you live in London and have never attended any of the balls this season? You’re a man I certainly would recall seeing,” she said, batting her lashes at him.
    Outwardly, Garren forced his expression to remain unchanged, but inwardly he winced remembering the weeks he had spent in a private hospital outside of London recovering from a bullet wound. Looking down at the pretty blonde, he fibbed, “I’ve been abroad, Miss Mayfield.” Turning back to Thora, he remarked, “A police rattle is an unusual gift, but in light of the most unfortunate event that occurred . . . quite clever.”
    “Thank you, my lord,” Thora retorted, casting a triumphant gaze at her brother, whose irritation with her suddenly dwindled.
    Like a spider creeping toward a fly tangled in its web, the flirtatious Cecilia inched closer to Nyle, intentionally giving him a generous view of her ample bosom. “Your sister is not only clever but concerned for all our safety, as I’m sure you are, my lord.”
    “Yes, yes, of course, Lady Cecilia,” Nyle stuttered, squirming uncomfortably as Cecilia shamelessly pressed nearer. He quickly returned the rattle to Cecilia and uttered, “If you ladies would excuse us, Lord Huntscliff and I will leave you—”
    “No need to go, Nyle,” Thora interjected. “My friends and I have finished our tea. We really should be going. I need to talk to the kitchen staff about this evening’s menu, and I’m sure my friends would like to rest before dinner,” she added, to save her brother from the inconvenience of seeking another room to reminisce with his school friend, but more importantly to rescue him from Cecilia Boothwell’s brazenness. Floris and Lauryn readily agreed as both wanted to look their best at dinner when there would be so many eligible bachelors present. Thora, too, wanted to sparkle tonight but for a much different motive. Finding a husband was the last thing on her mind. She was searching for a killer, and tonight she planned to flirt with each man on her list, hoping to loosen their tongues and perhaps learn something that would lead her to the villain who took her