A Suitable Vengeance - By Elizabeth George Page 0,41

asking questions. Through it all, Sidney had gone from hysteria to rage to despair and finally to silence.

But this last was dazed, and it frightened Deborah more than Sidney's earlier unrestrained agitation.

The entire experience had far exceeded dreadful, and when Justin Brooke walked into the drawing room, dressed casually for the evening as if he had not tried to rape a woman in front of five witnesses that afternoon, it was all Deborah could do to look at the man without screaming and flying into the attack.
Chapter 9
"Good God, what happened to you?" Lynley sounded so surprised that St. James turned from his perusal of the Kang H'si porcelain to see Justin Brooke taking the proffered glass of sherry with complete nonchalance. Christ, St. James thought, Brooke was actually going to join them, smugly confident that they were all too self-servingly well-bred to say anything about the afternoon while Lynley and his mother were in the room.

"Took a fall in the woods." Brooke looked around as he spoke, making eye contact with each of them, challenging one person after another to expose him as a liar. At this, St.

James felt his jaw clench automatically to bite back what he wanted to say. With an atavistic satisfaction which he did not deny himself, he noted the considerable damage that his sister had managed to do to Brooke's face. Claw marks scored his cheeks. A bruise rose on his jaw. His lower lip was swollen. "A fall?" Lynley's attention was on the inflamed teeth marks on Brooke's neck, barely obscured by the collar of his shirt. He looked at the others sharply.

"Where's Sidney?" he asked. No one replied. A glass clinked against the top of a table.

Someone coughed. Outside, at some distance from the house, an engine roared to life.

Footsteps sounded in the hall and Cotter entered the drawing room. He stopped barely two feet inside the door, as if he'd taken a quick reading of the ambience and was having second thoughts about exposing himself to it. He looked at St. James, a reflex reaction that sought direction and found it in the other man's detachment from the scene. He made no other move.

"Where's Sidney?" Lynley repeated. At her end of the room, Lady Asherton rose to her feet. "Has something - " Deborah spoke quickly.

"I saw her half an hour ago, Tommy." Her face flushed. Its colour did battle with the fire of her hair. "She spent too much time in the sun this afternoon and thought. . . well, she's asked for ... a rest. Yes. She said she needed a bit of a rest. She did send her apologies and . . . you know Sidney. She goes at such a pace, doesn't she? She wears herself out as if nothing at all ... It's no wonder to me she's exhausted." Her fingers wandered to her throat as she spoke, as if her hand wanted to cover her mouth to prevent the lie from becoming even more obvious. In spite of himself, St. James smiled. He looked at Deborah's father who shook his head weakly in affectionate recognition of a fact they both knew only too well. Helen might have been able to carry it off. Casual prevarication to smooth over troubled waters was more in her line. But Deborah was hopeless at this particular form of conversational legerdemain. The rest of the party was saved from having to embellish upon Deborah's story by the entrance of Peter Lynley. His feet bare and a clean gauze shirt his only bow to dressing for dinner, he was trailed by Sasha whose glaucous-hued dress made her complexion seem more sallow than ever. As if she would speak to them or attempt to intercede in what she saw as a coming conflict, Lady Asherton started to walk in their direction. Peter gave no indication that he saw his mother or anyone else. He merely wiped his nose on the back of his hand and went to the drinks tray. He poured himself a whisky, which he gulped down quickly, then poured himself another and Sasha some of the same. They stood, an isolated little unit apart from the others, with the spirit decanters within easy reach. As she took a sip of her drink, Sasha slipped her hand under Peter's loose shirt and pulled him towards her. "Nice stuff, Sash," Peter murmured and kissed her. N105 it Lynley set his glass down. Lady Asherton spoke quickly. I saw Nancy Cambrey on