Broken (THE DISTINGUISHED ROGUES #2) by Heather Boyd EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Heather Boyd
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
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Summer, 1813
GILES FORCED a smile to his lips to welcome Lord Winter to his country
estate in Northamptonshire. “Winter,” Giles called. “Welcome back to
Cottingstone.”
The newcomer shook his head. At least the old baron could pretend to
look pleased that Giles had broken his rule about receiving a guest at
Cottingstone Manor. But no, Lord Winter’s face wore a perpetual frown,
just like every other time their paths had crossed in London.
“Daventry.” The older man’s quavering voice, pitched somewhat lower
than Giles’, betrayed exhaustion. “The place hasn’t changed.”
Giles held out his hand. “You must be weary. Dinner won’t be served
for an hour, but I have some excellent whiskey to soothe you while we
wait.”
The baron crushed Giles’ fist. “Brandy would be preferable in its place
—especially today. But first…” Winter returned to the carriage.
Giles took a step back toward his butler. “Dithers?”
“I shall switch the decanters when I return to the house, milord,” he
promised.
“Do that, and ask Cook if dinner can be brought forward,” Giles
murmured. “Lord Winter doesn’t appear in good health.”
“I don’t believe his health is the problem, milord,” Dithers replied.
Without another word of explanation, the butler stepped back, leaving
Giles to ponder to whose health he had referred. The baron traveled alone
and often. His servants all looked a disciplined, healthy bunch. But they
moved carefully on the carriage and didn’t speak overloud. The horses were
settled swiftly, too. Calm, efficient, eerie.
As Giles stepped out of the way of a burdened footman, a bloodcurdling
howl erupted from beyond the house. Every man stopped and stared, not in
the direction of the sound, but at the dark carriage they were unloading.
The steady pounding of paws heralded the arrival of Giles’ ancient
wolfhound, Atticus. Judging by the dog’s speed and his whining agitation,
something was seriously amiss with him. In fact, this level of energy from
the hound was more than a little surprising. He had spent most of Giles’
visit lying under his feet snoring.
Atticus skidded to a stop beside the closed door of the carriage. If the
door had been open, Giles was sure the hound would have barged his way
in. He ignored the restless horses and stunned attendants to haul his beast
out of the way. The dog was heavy and determined to stay exactly where he
was, but Giles managed to pull him aside.
Lord Winter stared at the dog, nodded, and then stepped into the
carriage. When he emerged a few moments later, he held a body in his
arms.
Atticus, generally so docile, whined and whimpered, straining against
Giles in such a fashion as to cause alarm. Lord Winter adjusted the blackcloaked figure, and the bundle moaned.
Every hair on the back of Giles’ neck rose. That was a woman’s moan—
one in great pain. He renewed his grip on the restless dog.
Lord Winter moved slowly toward the house, keeping his movements
smooth. The grim set of his features showed just how much effort he
expended not to jostle his burden. There was agony on that rugged face, too
much grief for one man to bear alone.
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