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- By Love Unveiled (Restoration, #1) by Deborah Martin
- Love Unveiled by Edward Sri
I have agreed to amnesty for everyone but the regicides, and that includes Tearle. Or he proves to be behind the attempt on my life. Charles sighed. There is no proof of that, either, and until I have some, I must tread cautiously.
To cross him could mean risking the disapproval of the very subjects I wish to placate. I cannot afford to be seen as seeking vengeance upon the Roundheads. The king leveled a hard glance on Garett. Neither can you. You have your reward. Do not do anything foolhardy against your uncle that might jeopardize us both. He deserves my retribution, Garett growled. I speak now as your friend, not your king—I fear he will suffer less from your vengeance than you will. Garett uttered a harsh laugh. I believe the Almighty will understand.
Charles looked upon Garett with an odd pity. Yet now that the seed of bitterness has sprung to life within you, I wonder if you will be able to stop its vines from choking your heart. And no matter what His Majesty wanted, the man responsible for that deserved to be punished. Come what may, I mean to see the seedling fully sprung and the vines grown firm to imprison Pitney Tearle. How well she remembered her first sight of it, eight years ago. For a child of twelve accustomed to their cramped London town house, Falkham House had seemed a magnificent palace, with its costly glass windows and graceful gables.
Yet despite its grandeur, its cheery red brick had always felt welcoming.
It had helped that the people of the nearby town of Lydgate had willingly accepted her gypsy mother. Her parents had so loved their herb gardens. Father had even found some solace in them after Mother died. She fought her ready tears, knowing they brought no comfort. How could he be dead? It made no sense.
Why had someone wanted him dead? For that matter, why had someone felt the need to paint him the villain and cause his arrest?
You agreed not to tempt fate by approaching your old home, her aunt reminded her. And it still infuriated Marianne that anyone could think such a thing. Neither she nor Father had ever been anything but loyal to the Crown. No one would have listened to her protests, not with England in such chaos. Return to the wagon and leave this place before you are recognized. No one will do so as long as I wear this. Marianne tugged at the black silk mask gentlewomen often wore while riding to protect their faces from the weather.
It had been a useful tool for disguising her without drawing attention. Unfortunately, it also partially obscured her vision and was occasionally uncomfortable, but that was a small price to pay for freedom. After Aunt Tamara had engineered her escape from London by hiding her in the gypsy camp when the soldiers had come for her, Marianne had insisted on fleeing to Lydgate, where she knew she could find refuge. The townspeople would never betray her. Marianne had quickly adjusted to spending her nights in the cramped confines of the wooden wagon and her days roaming the forest in search of firewood or going to town for provisions.
Aware of how little money Aunt Tamara had to spare, Marianne had begun using her skills as a healer to help them earn their keep. The cards are dealt, and I must play out the hand. Someone must keep you from darting into danger. So listen to me and come away before the new owner spies us.
Marianne hesitated, but her aunt was right. She would learn nothing just standing here watching the house, so she let her aunt draw her off down the road. Does anyone know who bought the estate? Aunt Tamara frowned. This is important, Marianne said. I have to find out who he is. And I know just the person to tell us. She headed straight for the apothecary shop. As they entered, Marianne threw back the hood of her cloak and began to remove her mask.
He softened his expression. If the people of Lydgate are to protect you, Miss Winchilsea, you must do your part and keep your face covered when strangers are about. She sighed. Then you must remember to call me Mina. When his face fell, Marianne hastened to add, Forgive me, dear friend. I do appreciate all that you and your fellows have done to keep me safe. I should never have placed you in such danger.
A smile cracked his usual reserve.
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It is wonderful to have such a skilled healer in our midst again. Just now, however, Marianne was most interested in his shameful tendency to gossip.https://rensbidgoldleschii.cf
By Love Unveiled (Restoration, #1) by Deborah Martin
It was, you might say, acquired. The Earl of Falkham himself reclaimed his estate. Oh, poppet, a great noble, no less! Aunt Tamara said. We should leave here before you find yourself in more trouble. Not him but his son, Mr. Tibbett said. Sir Pitney was only a knight before then, but as a distant cousin, he inherited the earldom. Once all heirs to the title were believed dead and Lady Tearle was the only heir to the Falkham estate, Sir Pitney gained both the property and the title. So by the terms under which the king was restored to the throne, this other man—the Royalist—could not reclaim his property unless.
Tibbett blinked. You mean arrange the arrest of my father so he could regain Falkham House? How can you be sure? He was only a boy when he left. Who knows what his character became?
Love Unveiled by Edward Sri
Every day some new story surfaces of his bravery in battle, how he fought with the Duke of York under the humble name Garett Lockwood, and how he performed many heroic acts. Tibbett cast her a pained look. Yes, but you must understand. Sir Pitney had no right to sell the estate, not while the heir was alive. The door opened and closed behind her, but she was too caught up in her anger to heed either that or Mr.
It makes me wonder—. I believe, rumbled a deep masculine voice behind her, Mr. Tibbett is trying to keep you from wounding my feelings. Lord help her. This had to be the earl himself. A pox on her quick tongue! Thank heavens Mr. Tibbett had insisted on her continuing to wear the mask. She shivered. This man could very well be her enemy. He certainly looked daunting—tall, fiercely handsome, and nobly dressed.