The Return of the Earl by Sandra Schwab

Author:Sandra Schwab
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance
Publisher: Sandra Schwab
Published: 2017-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

After Christmas, the weather still didn’t improve. They got more snow, and the fog seemed more oppressive than ever.

Con walked the ground and walked and walked, and wherever he went, everything looked dead.

Which perfectly fitted his mood.

He felt as if he were caught up in a nightmare from which he wasn’t able to wake up.

Instead, he was haunted by the past. By his guilt. His shame.

If only he were able to leave this place…

Once he would be back on the Continent, he would find it easier to cope with what he had learnt about the past—and about himself.

If only it would get a little warmer and the snow would melt…

If only…

New Year’s Eve brought more festivities: Higgins inquired if it would please my lord to see the New Year in—in the entrance hall, perhaps? Not only was there the great grandfather clock, which would indicate the happy moment, but they could also open the entrance door so they wouldn’t miss the church over in the village ring the old year out, and the new one in.

And perhaps, it would please my lord to let the servants assemble in the entrance hall as well to celebrate the happy occasion?

“It will be something special, this new year,” Higgins said. “Now that you are returned to the Hall, it will be a new beginning for us all.”

And however much Con wanted to snap at the old butler that he certainly had no intention of spending more time than absolutely necessary in this damn place, he simply didn’t have the heart to be so cruel towards an old, loyal retainer.

And so, on New Year’s Eve, at a quarter to twelve, Con found himself standing in the entrance hall, surrounded by servants with shining faces, and—damn it!—there were even some of his outdoor staff.

The stablemaster, for one.

He stood leaning against the frame of the entrance door, which had been opened wide.

From the village came the sounds of bells ringing, laying the old year to rest.

Con had his back to the entrance, deliberately so he wouldn’t have to look at Bryn. It was bad enough to imagine Bryn’s gaze on him, burning between his shoulder blades like a hot brand.

Finally, finally, the ringing stopped, and the bells began to sound the hour, just as the grandfather clock started to chime as well.

Upon the stroke of twelve, Ross heartily shouted, “Happy New Year!”, and everybody else did likewise, while the bells rang again—and Con thought he would go quietly mad.

But just another quarter hour, and it was over. He gave his servants a nod and walked from the hall toward the Garden Room. He had Higgins bring him a bottle of champagne, thinking a drink or two would settle him down.

But his thoughts kept racing, and while all around him the house fell silent, he was gripped by a strange restlessness.

He walked about the ghastly room, up and down and up and down in front of the windows, took a sip from his glass of champagne and stared out.

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