Honor's Players by Newman Holly

Author:Newman, Holly [Newman, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
Published: 2013-03-02T04:00:00+00:00

St. Ryne pulled up his team. There was a marked change in Larchside, even from this distance. He studied the grounds and the house at the end of the long sweeping drive, a slow smile widening his mouth then leaping into his eyes. Obviously his Bess had not sat and sulked at his departure. The wide expanse of lawn had been scythed, shrubs had been trimmed, brambles uprooted, and ivy torn away from the windows allowing them to be cleaned, probably for the first time in five years. Now he was anxious to view what wonders she had wrought inside.

He urged his horses forward. He had not sent word of his imminent arrival, and his valet and groom were still an hour behind him. He was surprised when the front door flew open and a young man ran down the steps to stand stiffly, awaiting his approach. When he stopped his horses before the door, the young man bowed quickly then ran to their heads.

“Welcome home, my lord,” the young man said breathlessly. “I’m a footman here now.” He puffed himself up slightly.

St. Ryne raised his eyebrow then recognized the man as the one on the ladder in the dining room the day before his departure. He searched his brain for his name. “Thomas?” The young man’s face lit up with delight. “Thomas, do you think you could play groom to my horses for me? My groom will be here soon, but these beauties need attention now.”

“Me, my lord? Coo! There’s nothing I’d like better!” Excitement was writ large over the young man’s face as he stroked the neck of one of the pair. “I’ll do a good job, I swear to you!”

St. Ryne maintained an air of gravity. “Do you like horses, Thomas?”

“More than anything!”

“Hmm.” St. Ryne descended from the carriage and approached the man. “Better than being a footman?”

Uncertainty captured Thomas’s face. “Well, sir, I mean, my lord, being a footman ain’t bad, especially for my lady, but—”

St. Ryne laughed but when he spoke, his tone was sympathetic. “It’s not the same, though, is it?”

Thomas shook his head, then remembered himself. “No, my lord.”

“Don’t look so glum. My man Grigs is due here within the hour. Tell him I said you’re to have a trial.”

Thomas’s lean face lit up again like a beacon. “Thank you, my lord! I’d best get cracking. I don’t want Mr. Grigs’s first impression to be bad. Excuse me, my lord!”

St. Ryne watched him lead the horses away before he mounted the stairs. It suddenly occurred to him that his wife might not be pleased with his meddling in her disposition of servants. He shook his head ruefully, another sin to atone for.

It was his desire to change the direction of his relationship with Elizabeth, and he knew that it might not be an easy proposition. Nevertheless, he felt confident that his newly discovered love for his termagant wife would guide him to gentle wooing. It was as though the scales had fallen from his eyes and a blind man made to see.

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