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“Well, he is, perhaps, not as wretched as I first thought him,” I admitted ungraciously.

Laurel laughed. “It will serve you right if I fall madly in love with him and scandalize everyone by marrying a policeman. Then we shall both have husbands that the other dislikes.”

“I suppose I could learn to like him, in time,” I said.

She hesitated. “I am loath to admit it—I never thought I would say such a thing—but it seems to me that Milo has changed. Not much, mind you. But there's an attentiveness in him that I have never seen before, and I notice a difference between the two of you. You're more settled, happier.”

“Yes,” I said. “We're happier now than we've ever been.”

“I'm glad,” she said sincerely. “But don't tell Milo I said so.”

*   *   *

MILO AND I
were in the entrance hall preparing to take our leave when Mr. Winters came down the stairs. I had not seen much of him since the night Lucinda had been arrested. Where he had been keeping himself I didn't know.

“I'm glad I've caught you, Mrs. Ames. I was worried you'd gone.” Today his eyes were bright and there was a focus in them that I had not often seen there. He looked as though he had wandered, at least momentarily, from his dream world into ours.

“I'm glad you came to say good-bye to me, Mr. Winters,” I said. “I was hoping I would be able to see everyone before I left.”

“I've just finished your portrait,” he announced. “Will you come and see it?”

I was surprised. I had not, of course, had the opportunity to sit for him since that first time, and in all the excitement I had actually forgotten all about the painting.

“Of course,” I said.

“Wonderful.” He turned and started in the direction of the conservatory.

“Am I invited?” Milo asked me in a low voice. “I'm not sure he even noticed me standing here. Perhaps I shall be intruding in the conservatory.”

“Perhaps he won't much notice if you're there or not,” I retorted, following Mr. Winters.

We went to the conservatory and Mr. Winters moved quickly to the easel. “I do hope you like it,” he said, turning it toward us.

We stopped before the easel, and my breath caught in my throat. It was a flattering portrait, to be sure, but it wasn't my appearance that impressed me about the painting. It was what Mr. Winters had done with the colors, the way in which the light and shadows played across the room behind me. He had conveyed a sense of sadness and hope, the exact emotions that I felt now that the mystery at Lyonsgate had been solved. There was something otherworldly about the painting, just as there was about Mr. Winters himself.

“It's breathtaking,” Milo said. “You've captured her completely.”

“It's wonderful,” I said softly. “I love it.”

Mr. Winters smiled. “I'm so glad. It has been a long time since I've painted, you know. I think that I might take it up again. There are still people who want to be painted, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes,” I answered. “And I shall be your devoted supporter.”

“Once people see this painting, I'm sure you'll have no shortage of subjects,” Milo said. “Now, what do I owe you for it?”

“Oh, no,” Mr. Winters said, his eyes on me. “Mrs. Ames has given me enough.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I shall treasure it.”

*   *   *

“GARETH WINTERS IS
a fine artist, isn't he?” I asked Milo when we were in the car and safely on our way back to London. The sun was shining and roads had dried. I felt light and carefree.

“Wonderful,” Milo agreed. “He did such a fine job, in fact, that I'm thinking perhaps we should commission him to paint you in the nude after all. A companion piece.”

I glanced at him disapprovingly. “I think one portrait is quite enough.”

“If you insist.”

“And what, now?” I asked. We would want to spend some time in London, of course, but I knew Milo would not want to stay there for long. He never much liked remaining in one place for extended periods, and I felt sure that he would be anxious to get away from the city before the month was out.

“Now, my love,” Milo said, “I intend to take you straight to Italy.”

“I thought as much,” I replied. “Well, you'll hear no arguments from me. I am in desperate need of a holiday after this.”

“Excellent,” he said. “I've already secured a villa.”

“I'll have Winnelda begin packing as soon as we get home. I suspect she will be terribly excited at the prospect of a trip to the continent.”

“Winnelda is not going to Italy.”

“Oh?” I asked, surprised. “Why not?”

“Because it annoys me when she scurries about, popping in and out of rooms unexpectedly. Parks won't be coming, either. Just you and me, alone in that Italian villa.”

I had a good idea of what he was implying, but I couldn't resist asking. “Who do you suggest tend to our clothes while we're there?”

He gave me a wicked smile, confirming my suspicions. “We won't be needing any.”

 

ALSO BY
ASHLEY WEAVER

Murder at the Brightwell

Death Wears a Mask

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ASHLEY WEAVER
is the technical services coordinator at the Allen Parish Libraries in Oberlin, Louisiana. Weaver has worked in libraries since she was fourteen; she was a page and then a clerk before obtaining her MLIS from Louisiana State University. She is the author of two previous Amory Ames mysteries,
Murder at the Brightwell
and
Death Wears a Mask
.

Connect with her online at
www.ashley-weaver.com
. Or sign up for email updates
here
.

    

 

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CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Also by Ashley Weaver

About the Author

Copyright

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin's Publishing Group.

A MOST NOVEL REVENGE
. Copyright © 2016 by Ashley Weaver. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.minotaurbooks.com

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Names: Weaver, Ashley, author.

Title: A most novel revenge: a mystery / Ashley Weaver.

Description: First edition. | New York: Minotaur Books, 2016. | Series: An Amory Ames mystery | “A Thomas Dunne book.”

Identifiers: LCCN 2016010565 | ISBN 9781250060457 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781466865686 (e-book)

Subjects: LCSH: Women private investigators—England—London—Fiction. | Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Historical. | FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.

Classification: LCC PS3623.E3828 M67 2016 | DDC 813/.6—dc23

LC record available at
https://lccn.loc.gov/2016010565

e-ISBN 9781466865686

Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein

Cover illustration by John Mattos

Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at
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First Edition: October 2016

BOOK: A Most Novel Revenge
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