Robyn Carr Restoration Box Set

Author:Robyn Carr [Carr, Robyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Bestseller, Charles II, Conspiracies, Decadent, Fiction, General, Heiress, Historical, Historical Fiction, Historical Romance, Medieval Romance, Passionate Historical, Restoration England Romance, Robyn Carr, Romance, Royal Affairs, Royal Court, Sensual Romance, Sexy
ISBN: 9780671501792
Google: dNVpAQAACAAJ
Amazon: B008E0B6WE
Publisher: Liza Dawson Associates
Published: 1986-10-02T08:00:00+00:00

When Chad returned home he went directly to his study, which was his habit. He shuffled through some papers and grew restless. His impatience was from lack of information, from being left in the dark and having business unfinished. He began to roam around the house, which was not his habit. It was quiet, cold and unhappy. Everything was polished and shined, with not so much as a speck of dust on the floors and furnishings.

He climbed the stairs and passed his wife’s rooms and found it was quiet there as well, no voices, no sign that there was any life in the house. From a window on the second floor he could see the courtyard. It would be flush with flowers in the spring, but now it was brown and dreary. Chelynne sat there on a bench, her cloak pulled tightly around her and her hood covering her hair. She stared at nothing in particular, shivering now and then with the cold.

He stood and watched her for a long time as if witnessing her loneliness personally. Finally she rose and started toward the house, looking up for an instant to spy him there, observing her. A small hand sought its way out from under her cloak and half rose, as if in greeting. His did the same, unconsciously. They looked at each other for a moment, each painfully aware of the great distance between them, and then she lowered her eyes and walked into the house.

Chad went to his room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. He heard the soft clicking of Chelynne’s feet against the stone floors as she passed, paused uncertainly, and went on to her own room. A heaviness threatened to be on his heart. Guilt and remorse spoke to him in his conscience, but he would not hear it. Unable to bear the weight of the quiet house and the desolate look on his wife’s face, he found his coat and left again.

Another fortnight passed with no word from Bratonshire and Christmas drew near, but the earl hardly noticed. He attended the social affairs with his wife but did not celebrate with the same vigor as the rest of London. His mind was on other things.

The ground was hard and the fog thick and pungent in the city. Daily the weather worsened. Chad sought out a dingy tavern that spilled noise from its stone walls in that afternoon. He spoke quietly to a serving maid in the hall and she nodded once toward the stairs. He put the steps behind him quickly and gave a light, anxious tap on the door.

“What’s it now?” came the shrill, sassy reply.

The little witch, he thought angrily. She knew he would be coming now; would she have him shout his presence to the world? He opened the door to the drab little room and strode in, finding the woman who had answered his knock lying on the bed and eating an orange. Her hair was tangled, and clothing was strewn about the bed and floor.

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