Robyn Carr Restoration Box Set

by Robyn Carr

  “You never made mention of family, Sebastian.”

  “I didn’t think it wise to be doin’ so. To be tellin’ ye true, I changed the name and was careful no one knew of the kinship. It’s better in seein’ to ‘em. They serve Shayburn now.”

  “So...that is your interest.”

  “I’ve taken care not to be noticed about that shire, lad. But I’ve heard of a man comes to them in the darkest part of night, carrying no name. He promises a time they’ll not answer to the baron, but to a new, fair lord. But there’s a price.”

  “Price?”

  “Aye, the fair amount of sufferin’ to the end he’s bound. I’ve a notion who the lad would be, but I’ve not made mention. Could be one and the same I took with me and my own charge to huntin’ and gamin’.”

  “You are hot to it all, aren’t you?”

  “When I saw the lad’s face, sir.” Sebastian smiled, his ruddy face lighting up. “Ye couldna be keepin’ secrets from the same one who rubbed goose grease on yer skinned-up knees.”

  “I think it’s time you found employment elsewhere, Sebastian. Everyone knows of your loyalty to my father and my ill will toward him. As it happens I’ve received an answer to an inquiry on your behalf and the news is good. My lord Shayburn is in dire need of a good medic.”

  “Aaiii, to be tendin’ His Lordship’s hurts will smart,” he groaned.

  “I will not insist, Sebastian. It’s most likely he’ll test your loyalty harshly and it could be dangerous. Should you make any mistakes it could even be fatal. What say you?”

  “I couldna be havin’ more friends on earth than I have in heaven now, lad. I’ll do it.”

  “It seems his rote to have servants deliver punishments in his stead. You could be put to the task of hurting your own family. If it comes to the point you cannot carry it off, head out. He would, and has, killed without hesitation. If he should trace you to me and me to John, it’s over for us.”

  “My family has had their share o’ trouble, lad. It does naught but make a man stronger in his purpose.”

  “Fine. Now, do nothing but keep your eyes and ears open. There is a laundress in Bratonshire who comes often to the manor. She will find you when the time is right and tell you whatever John wishes you to know. Should you have something, she will be your only avenue. Trust no one else. And for God’s sake, take care. Don’t let them find you out.”

  Sebastian nodded and took a heavy draught from his mug. “When ‘tis done, will I be comin’ to the Hawthornes again?”

  “If that would please you, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian had his huge fist wrapped around the heavy tankard and lifted in salute. Chad gave a nod and watched as the old man drained the mug. Without further discussion Sebastian was on his feet. There were no farewells. Chad watched him leave.

  Chad couldn’t guess the manservant’s age, but neither could he remember when Sebastian hadn’t been around. He was never young. But he was fit and strong and grotesquely large. His hands alone could wrap around a melon and crush it, but when tending some injury his touch was gentle and soothing. It made him a much sought after servant, his skill and experience well known in the country.

  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. There was no resemblance to order in her or in her habitat. A thin dressing gown was all that covered her body, though the room was far too cold for one to be so meagerly garbed. He snorted distastefully at the filth that surrounded the wench.

  “Ah, it’s you, milord,” she giggled.

  “Have you had the opportunity—”

  “Aye, ‘e just left, milord. A bit sooner and you’d ‘ave passed ‘im on the stair. I’ll ‘ave me money first, milord.”

  “Then you have something to tell me?”

  “I do, but I’m not ‘bout t’be spillin’ me guts without me coin. An’ I’ll not be takin’ that stinkin’ swine to me bed again. ‘E ain’t no gentleman. ‘E’s right mean, ‘e is.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Aye, ‘e did! I’d ‘ave turned the beastie out but fer the twenty pound ye said was mine if ‘e talked. Squeaked like a parrot.” She beamed.

  Chad pulled a few coins from his purse and threw them to her. He was hard pressed to bear the stench in the room and wasn’t about to move any closer to the wench. He wished sincerely that Mondeloy had either more money for his wenching or better taste, for he hated doing this kind of business.

  “Well?”

  “Spillin’ your name like a drunken fool. Says ‘e ‘as somethin’ the earl’d crawl on ‘is belly for...says ‘e’ll be rich enough when ‘e’s ‘ad his fun. Never did say what it was. What’s ‘e got, milord?”

  “Never you mind. Is that all?”

  “Says you love what ‘e’s got better than the countess’s privy arse, an’ would pay a better sum, too.”

  So, Chad thought, he did keep the record. It made a lot more sense than anything else he’d done. “Did he mention the countess any other time?”

  “Aye, called her a bitch, an’ other things. Says ‘e’s bound to put ‘er in ‘er place along with yourself, milord. Beggin’ yer pardon, but that’s what ‘e said.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Aye, that’s all, milord.”

  “That’s fine. Now say nothing of our business.”

  “I won’t be sayin’ nothin’, milord,” she said with a giggle and a mischievous gleam in her eye. Chad walked a little nearer and
reached out a hand to touch her filthy hair. She squirmed a bit closer, always the eager business woman. He grabbed her sharply by the hair and brought her to her knees. He almost shuddered at the foul smell of her unwashed body, but brought her face dangerously close to his.

  “Ayeee! Leave off, ye bloody well rat! Yer ‘urtin me!”

  “Quiet! Listen to me, because I’ll say this only once. If I ever hear that word of this has passed your lips, you can be assured I’ll be back to fix up that pretty face of yours so that no one would pay for a toss with you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded quickly and he released her, letting her fall back into the bed. He took one last look about the crowded little room and left, slamming the door as he went.

  Necessity demanded some foul dealings from time to time, but the earl decided it was worth the twenty pounds and aesthetic insult to learn that his marriage record was intact. Bribing a whore was still the fastest way to do business. Why hadn’t men learned, after all this time, not to let a woman goad them into spilling out their most carefully kept secrets?

  Now it was so easy, knowing Mondeloy intended to put a price on his possession. How the man would chafe to know what he was to the earl of Bryant: not even a danger, simply an inconvenience. And it didn’t cause Chad any pain to know that Harry sought to hurt Chelynne. It actually made him feel good. Chelynne’s points were quickly stacking up in Chad’s mind.

  When he returned home that day he went directly to his wife’s rooms and opened the door a small crack. He placed a small furry creature on the floor and waited there while the pup scampered around the room. He heard his wife gasp in surprise and listened while she chased the little spaniel, fussing and wooing it into her arms. Finally she came and opened her door completely, a bright smile on her face and a golden puppy in her arms.

  “Did you bring it?” she asked, smiling.

  “I thought you might like a pet.” He shrugged.

  “He’s beautiful. Where did you find him?”

  “His Majesty’s litter. Do you like him?”

  She nodded and went back into the room, leaving the door ajar so that he could follow her in if he chose. She went to the window seat, sat there, and fondled the puppy playfully, more than pleased with the gift and the giver. She looked to where her husband stood in the doorway, her bright little face melting the ice that covered his heart. He sighed from somewhere deep inside and, defeated, threw his hat into a chair and went to sit near her.

  “Does he have a name?” she asked.

  “I thought I would leave that to you.”

  “It has to be something special, something with meaning. He’s golden like Summer. And so sweet. As sweet as honey,” she chattered. “Honey, that would be a thought...” Chad chuckled softly at her pleasure and rose to pour himself a drink. The small supply of wines and liquors were for his consumption but he rarely partook since he routinely avoided this room. He poured a small draught in a glass and went back to her.

  “Brandy!” she cried happily. “Yes, that’s what he’s like; Brandy!” She turned her sparkling eyes on him and whispered softly, “Oh, thank you, my lord. I’ll treasure him always.”

  He was caught there, feeling her spell twine around him like ivy. He longed to crush her to him, taste that delicious mouth again, and woo her gently for the maiden she was. He felt giddy as a virgin lad this near to her, awkward as a newborn colt. How the tables had turned. She was cool and at ease and he felt his heart thumping and his hands trembling.

  “He’s a puppy, Chelynne. Not a treasure of great value.”

  “Treasures are different things to different people, my lord.” She shrugged. “Stay and sup, Chad.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he began. “I have some business...” The instant disappointment registered on her face, her eyes brooding now and no longer carefree. He felt like an ogre for crushing her brief delight. “To hell with business. I’ll stay.”

  She brightened immediately. Her play with the pup resumed and Chad leaned back in his chair to let the scene relax him and remove the distaste from his afternoon business. She giggled as Brandy playfully nipped at her and mocked discipline in a little swat. Suddenly she shrieked and held the puppy away from her, the little creature seeming to have sprung a leak. Chad roared with laughter and soon Chelynne could do naught but join him. An almost silent young maid stooped to mop up the floor and Chelynne assessed the damage to her gown.

  “Oh, see,” she sighed, looking down at the length of her. “Will you unfasten me, please?” She turned her back to him without waiting for a reply. His fingers undid the small fastenings as quickly as he could manage. A man’s hands were not made for this chore, he decided, or he was painfully out of practice. But soon she was able to step behind her screen and emerge moments later in a lovely dressing gown.

  Chelynne took her place again on the window seat, but this time a towel was brought to cover her lap so she could play with her puppy. When Chad leaned close to tickle Brandy’s ear, Chelynne turned her face to come close to his. He trembled slightly with her nearness, letting his lips brush against her cheek to test the smooth sweetness of her skin.

  “It will be nice with the fire tonight,” she murmured. “See, it’s begun to snow.”

  He looked past her out the window and saw the heavy flakes. The first snow, a sight he had been waiting for. “I hope it’s snowing in the country,” he thought aloud.

  “I miss the country, Chad,” she whispered. “It’s just not the same here.”

  “I know,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. “It’s not the same for me either, Chelynne. But it’s necessary. The country will always be there, love. We’ll get back to it.”

  In the small burgh of Bratonshire a young maiden ran through the snow with her cloak pulled tightly around her. She looked over her shoulder a number of times to be sure that no one followed her and then crept into a barn that was near the outskirts of the town. She nestled into a small mound of hay to keep warm while she waited.

  Little sounds in the night alerted her to false dangers again and again. She was on edge and nervous, yet steadfast in her decision to go through with this plan. At long last the door to the barn creaked open and she caught her breath in anticipation.

  “A fine summer’s night,” came the voice in the darkness.

  She let out her breath in audible relief. “And hear the nightbird’s song,” she whispered back.

  “Ah, sweetheart,” John Bollering breathed, coming forward. He deeply regretted the dimness in the barn and the necessity to have no light. He would have dearly liked to look on the lovely face of the young woman who waited for him. “You did come. And early.”

  “And you.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “No more, John. There’s time...” She gulped, steadied her voice. “All is ready.”

  “You shouldn’t have come, Tess. It will hurt me to hurt you.”

  “I know what must be, John. It happened in truth to many here when Shayburn took this shire. Our play will come to good ends.”

  “Has your father agreed to this? He knows you’re here?”

  “Aye,” she lied. She had been forbidden this, but managed as she knew she must. The woman who had agreed to be the victim of this attack was a little frightened and easy to persuade. Tess was supposed to be at the home of a neighbor, and in the confusion of getting ready for this event her father had neither the time nor the inclination to be sure of her whereabouts. “I would ask one thing of you, if it can be.”

  “What then?”

  “For just a little while...before you hurt me...hold me? Please?”

  “Sweet child, I know the limit to my courage when I think of smiting your lovely face.”

  “Take me gently, John...”

  “Tess, it need not be. A bruise here, a tear or two...tell them what you will.”

  “Nay, it cannot be. It must be done.”

  “Tess,” he groaned suspiciously. “What are you telling me?”


  “There is no gallant way to rape and beat a maiden,” she said softly.

  “What’ve you done!” he cried angrily. “You may have ruined it all! We planned it carefully. There was to be a woman well advised, married if possible, waiting here for me! Now what’ve you done?”

  “John Bollering,” she sighed. “Must I seduce you as well?”

  “Damn you! I won’t do it! You’ll go to your betrothed for your evidence!”

  “That is not the answer, John.”

  “You’re promised to another!”

  “There are not many to be trusted here. Not because they are loyal to Shayburn but because of their fear. My father would accept no one but his own kin. My betrothed will take me as I come to him.”

  “Nay! Go back home. Tell Rath again in a fortnight. I will not have you on my conscience!”

  “Sir! My mother has smuggled small pieces of clothing in bread baskets to her sister as she would dare, hoping to save some goods for our family after our home is plundered. She has buried her possessions in the earth believing she will dig them up in the spring. Our neighbors will touch the torch to their homes at the sound of my screams. Do they do all this so you can tell them to wait? Have they not waited long enough?”

  “Tess, dear Tess, you’re a dream-struck lass. You’ve come with thoughts of love and tenderness that are not for me to have. The young heart oft cries out for what it is denied. No, darling, I will not ruin a maiden.”

  “And so you do not,” she breathed.

  “You’re an innocent child—”

  “Child who called after you night upon night? Dream-struck lass who chilled your ale and loved you from afar for months? Foolish heart who chased you down in the dark of night for one small chance to feel your touch? No, you do not believe that John, because it is not so.”

  “Tess,” he said huskily. “A woman barely blooming, but that doesn’t make it right to—”