Day of Wrath
“You shouldn’t keep dashing off to that country retreat of yours. Your place is here in the centre of things. You ought to slow down a bit. All this coming and going does you no good; no good at all. Anyway, you’re here and just in time for a game of tennis. Come along, man, relax, don’t you want to have a body like mine?’ Henry Tudor pulled in his stomach and drew himself up to his full height, three inches shorter than Nicholas. He was dressed for sport – a white shirt, open at the neck, loose...-fitting breeches and close-fitting stockings which revealed his well-honed calf muscles. Nicholas, having ridden hard through most of the night, except for a brief nap at Merrow, sighed in resignation.
‘Your Grace, as always, looks in peak condition. But I’m sorry to say that I have ridden seventy miles with just brief stops to change horses in answer to your Grace’s command, and I’m a bit stiff, to put it mildly.’ ‘Then it’s time to loosen up. You’re out of condition with all that soft country living.MoreLess
‘Your Grace, as always, looks in peak condition. But I’m sorry to say that I have ridden seventy miles with just brief stops to change horses in answer to your Grace’s command, and I’m a bit stiff, to put it mildly.’ ‘Then it’s time to loosen up. You’re out of condition with all that soft country living.MoreLess
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