Read Online Banquet of Lies by Michelle Diener - Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Diener
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house.
None of them could get enough of her, of her feminine warmth, in a home too long the preserve of men only.
He recalled wondering how Barrington could bear to stay away from home for such long periods of time, with a jewel like Adèle Barrington waiting for him.
He came level with Aldridge House. The Barrington place,Goldfern, was just a little way along. He continued on toward it, unwilling to go into his own house just yet.
He hardly noticed Goldfern going about his business day to day, but it was a huge, hulking place that took up more than its fair share of the street. He couldn’t ever remember seeing anyone come or go from there; Barrington had been away since Gerald died of appendicitis and he’d come home to take the title.
The house had been empty all that time.
He’d been staring at the house for less than a minute when he became aware of a light behind one of the curtains. It fluctuated, as if someone held a lantern and was moving about the room.
He walked closer.
It was nearly midnight, and with the house empty, there was no reason for a servant to be up and wandering at this time.
He stepped over the low iron railing into the narrow strip of garden that ran between the street and the house. The window was high—as at his own house, there would be a floor below with high ceilings, housing the kitchens and some of the servants’ quarters. It meant the windowsill was just in line with the top of his head; he wouldn’t be able to peer inside.
He walked to the path and up the stairs to the front door, and hammered with the door knocker. Then he ran back to the window to see the reaction. If it was a servant, he or she would come to the door.
The light disappeared abruptly, as if someone had blown it out, and he heard the faint sound of running footsteps.
Nothing innocent about this at all.
He thought the person had run right, and sped along the front to the right side of the house and looked down. A figure was climbing out a low-set window at the far end.
He gave a shout and started running again, but the intruder had seen him and was off, racing across the garden. A man, well built and tall. He disappeared into the shadows at the back of the garden and Jonathan heard the door onto the access lane slam open.
The garden was simply laid out, with a wide swath of lawn to the back, and he was at the garden door himself very quickly. It was ajar, the key hanging slightly out as if wrenched, and he stepped into the lane. It was pitch-dark, and there was no sound. It was as if the runner had never been.
He was either gone or crouched down, waiting for Jonathan to come to him.
Jonathan leaned down to finger the knife in his boot, but a shout from behind him made him step back into the garden, then swing the door shut and lock it. He turned to face a man coming toward him with a lantern raised high.
“Who is it?” The voice was firm and a little sharp.
“Lord Aldridge, from Aldridge House. I noticed a burglar in your house. But he’s got away.”
“Lord Aldridge?” The voice quavered a little. “A burglar, you say?” He lowered the lantern, and Jonathan looked into awrinkled face that belied the sharp strength of the man’s voice.
“I was passing by on my way home and saw a lantern in the window. I thought Barrington was away but knocked in case he was back. The light went out and I heard running, and then the window opened on the side. I gave chase, but he was too quick.”
“I heard the knock.” The man peered more closely at Jonathan. “I came to see what was what. Escape through there, did he?” He indicated the back garden door.
Jonathan nodded. “Shall we check that all is well in the house? I don’t think he had anything in his hands, or if he did, it was small.”
“I’m Jones, your lordship. Me wife ’n’ me look after the place, with a girl to do the heavy work me wife can’t do no more.”
Jonathan looked up at the hulking building, at least double the size of
None of them could get enough of her, of her feminine warmth, in a home too long the preserve of men only.
He recalled wondering how Barrington could bear to stay away from home for such long periods of time, with a jewel like Adèle Barrington waiting for him.
He came level with Aldridge House. The Barrington place,Goldfern, was just a little way along. He continued on toward it, unwilling to go into his own house just yet.
He hardly noticed Goldfern going about his business day to day, but it was a huge, hulking place that took up more than its fair share of the street. He couldn’t ever remember seeing anyone come or go from there; Barrington had been away since Gerald died of appendicitis and he’d come home to take the title.
The house had been empty all that time.
He’d been staring at the house for less than a minute when he became aware of a light behind one of the curtains. It fluctuated, as if someone held a lantern and was moving about the room.
He walked closer.
It was nearly midnight, and with the house empty, there was no reason for a servant to be up and wandering at this time.
He stepped over the low iron railing into the narrow strip of garden that ran between the street and the house. The window was high—as at his own house, there would be a floor below with high ceilings, housing the kitchens and some of the servants’ quarters. It meant the windowsill was just in line with the top of his head; he wouldn’t be able to peer inside.
He walked to the path and up the stairs to the front door, and hammered with the door knocker. Then he ran back to the window to see the reaction. If it was a servant, he or she would come to the door.
The light disappeared abruptly, as if someone had blown it out, and he heard the faint sound of running footsteps.
Nothing innocent about this at all.
He thought the person had run right, and sped along the front to the right side of the house and looked down. A figure was climbing out a low-set window at the far end.
He gave a shout and started running again, but the intruder had seen him and was off, racing across the garden. A man, well built and tall. He disappeared into the shadows at the back of the garden and Jonathan heard the door onto the access lane slam open.
The garden was simply laid out, with a wide swath of lawn to the back, and he was at the garden door himself very quickly. It was ajar, the key hanging slightly out as if wrenched, and he stepped into the lane. It was pitch-dark, and there was no sound. It was as if the runner had never been.
He was either gone or crouched down, waiting for Jonathan to come to him.
Jonathan leaned down to finger the knife in his boot, but a shout from behind him made him step back into the garden, then swing the door shut and lock it. He turned to face a man coming toward him with a lantern raised high.
“Who is it?” The voice was firm and a little sharp.
“Lord Aldridge, from Aldridge House. I noticed a burglar in your house. But he’s got away.”
“Lord Aldridge?” The voice quavered a little. “A burglar, you say?” He lowered the lantern, and Jonathan looked into awrinkled face that belied the sharp strength of the man’s voice.
“I was passing by on my way home and saw a lantern in the window. I thought Barrington was away but knocked in case he was back. The light went out and I heard running, and then the window opened on the side. I gave chase, but he was too quick.”
“I heard the knock.” The man peered more closely at Jonathan. “I came to see what was what. Escape through there, did he?” He indicated the back garden door.
Jonathan nodded. “Shall we check that all is well in the house? I don’t think he had anything in his hands, or if he did, it was small.”
“I’m Jones, your lordship. Me wife ’n’ me look after the place, with a girl to do the heavy work me wife can’t do no more.”
Jonathan looked up at the hulking building, at least double the size of
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