Read Online Lacybourne Manor by Kristen Ashley - Free Book Online Page A

were entitled to sustenance.
    Each small plate held a single
sandwich, if they could be called sandwiches considering they were
two pieces of bread which held only a wafer thin slice of ham, no
condiments, no butter, nothing. They weren’t even cut in half.
    So much for the Ivana of the
North’s hostessing skills.
    Sibyl set hers aside and
when Mrs. Byrne noticed it (she herself tucking into the food like
it was the finest delicacy) she encouraged Sibyl, “You must have
something. Keep your strength up.”
    Sibyl shook her head, slightly
alarmed that Mrs. Byrne seemed to be keen on preparing her for
battle. “I don’t eat ham. I’m a vegetarian.”
    “Oh dear,” Mrs. Bryne muttered
then her eyes brightened. “Well, I’ll just have to go see if Mr.
Morgan has anything else in the house.”
    “ No!” Sibyl cried,
yes, cried, desperate and everything.
    And she did this because
she didn’t want Mr. Morgan to remember her existence at all. He
seemed ludicrously averse to it. She had to get through the next
twelve hours through most of which she hoped she’d be sleeping and
she did not want to rock the boat.
    Mrs. Byrne smiled at Sibyl, a
twinkle in her eye, and ignored her, setting aside her plate to go
off in search of different food.
    Sibyl sat back on the couch
with a weary sigh and placed the ice on her temple. Bran
reappeared, completely unfazed by the dramatic events, curled up on
Sibyl’s belly and Sibyl idly stroked his soft, fluffy fur.
    Sibyl had no idea why the
appallingly-attractive-but-clearly-possessed-by-Satan Mr. Morgan
had reacted so horribly to her presence at Lacybourne. It was
distressing and utterly bizarre. Anyone could see that Mrs. Byrne
had made a simple mistake, it wasn’t worth confiscating Sibyl’s
license (which he had done, he did not give it back and he also
took her handbag with him when he left) and holding them both
prisoner. It was almost as if he expected the old woman and Sibyl
to be conniving to steal the family silver out from under his
nose.
    Sibyl could, of course,
get up and walk out (albeit unsteadily). However, that would mean
leaving Mrs. Byrne behind to face the
towering-inferno-also-known-as-Mr. Morgan and that she would not do.
    She did have the unusual
feeling, however, that Mrs. Byrne seemed somehow pleased at these
events and not simply because Sibyl staying meant Mrs. Byrne might
have the chance get things straight with Mr. Morgan and not lose
her obviously beloved role at Lacybourne. But, instead, she was
pleased for other reasons entirely.
    Sibyl put that strange idea
down to her mild concussion.
    Mrs. Byrne arrived back in the
room with Mr. Morgan arrogantly striding in on her heels.
    Although Sibyl did not know him
very well (and what she did know of him, she didn’t want to know),
she could tell he was still furious. She could tell this by the
muscle leaping convulsively in his rock hard jaw.
    “ Is there anything else
we can do for you here at Lacybourne Manor, Miss Godwin? ” His tone
was impeccably polite but he said her name like it tasted
foul.
    For the sake of her sanity, and
her head, Sibyl ignored him.
    His strange antipathy to her
was only eclipsed by his extreme dislike of her name.
    “A bite of cheese and some
crackers,” Mrs. Byrne explained, proffering a plate on which rested
some rather unsavoury-looking slices of cheese and crackers. Then
Mrs. Byrne sat in a comfortably worn leather chair by the
invitingly worn leather couch on which Sibyl was reclining.
    Mrs. Byrne appeared, to Sibyl’s
continued incredulity, to be having the time of her life.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Byrne,” Sibyl
replied, taking the plate.
    “You’re more than welcome, my
dear.”
    Realising that the two
women were not going to address him, Mr. Morgan turned to walk away
but then Mrs. Byrne, who clearly had a death wish, called out, “Oh,
Mr. Morgan!”
    He looked first over his
shoulder and then turned his entire body back towards them slowly,
his eyes blazing, and