Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

C hastity handed Dalton another fir bough. They were winding ribbon through them and attaching them to the staircase's banister. His parents were busy helping Mr. Tugs and Abigail hang wreaths on every door, both inside and out, and even Mrs. Fraser was busy decorating the kitchen and baking cookies for an evening snack. Dalton's parents showed up after dinner, which they informed their cook would have to be an hour early, so they could join in the fun.

"Oh, Mrs. Pettigrew," Mrs. Simpson called as she came down the hall. "How many more doors would you like decorated?"

Mrs. Pettigrew took in the grand hall and its greenery. "All of them, Mrs. Simpson. I ordered plenty of wreaths."

The Simpsons gave each other a look. But Chastity figured most of her employer's neighbors knew how eccentric she was.

"Very well," Mrs. Simpson said. "If that's what you want."

"You think it's too much?" Mrs. Pettigrew asked. Chastity detected a hint of challenge in her voice and bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. It even caught Dalton's attention, and he came down the ladder he was on near the stairs. "It's your house, Adelia, you can decorate it any way you want."

"That is true," she mused. "And I am." Mrs. Pettigrew grinned at his parents. "Have fun, you two. When you're done with that, we'll start hanging the mistletoe!"

Chastity giggled at the excitement in her voice. She hadn't had a chance to speak to her employer about what happened earlier with Rebecca and Mr. Bradshaw and hoped she wasn't going to lose her job. But Mrs. Pettigrew hadn't brought it up, even when it was just the two of them in a room going through decorations. Best to keep her mouth shut, and if the woman wanted to talk about it, Chastity was sure she would.

"I'm having a grand time, aren't you?" Dalton asked before he scurried up the ladder again.

"I am. So are your parents, if my guess is right." She watched as the Simpsons disappeared down the hall toward the library. "I'm surprised they came."

"One does not pass up an invitation to come to the Pettigrew mansion. It's like a badge of honor in this town." He studied his handiwork on the stair banister. "There, I fixed this spot. How does it look?"

She backed up and took in the entire staircase. Greenery and red ribbon encased the entire railing. "It's lovely, Dalton, just lovely."

He smiled and came down the ladder. "I have to admit, the wreaths are a nice touch. I've never thought to hang them on the inside of a door."

"Neither have I." She turned to him, a happy smile on his face. "I love to decorate for Christmas. I've never seen so many decorations in my life."

"The Pettigrews were never ones to do anything small. But Adelia hasn't done much of anything since Xavier died, and I hope this isn't a one-time thing."

"What makes you say that?" Chastity asked.

"Something Tugs said earlier. Mrs. Pettigrew often has a purpose behind her actions, and if she's only decorating to bring about something else, then her heart's not entirely in it."

"I think I understand." Chastity thought a moment. "She misses him terribly, doesn't she?"

"Xavier? He was everything to her. They were inseparable."

She nodded in understanding. "She's a very kind woman."

He closed the distance between them. "Yes, she is. And will help you in any way she can. So will I, for that matter. Remember that."

Chastity's heart melted at his words, but she didn't dare say anything about her predicament. She was in too deep at this point, and her deception would be her undoing, no matter what Mrs. Pettigrew said. She might be running errands with Dalton, and dining with her employer, but none of it hid the fact she was nothing now but a lowly housemaid. If Mrs. Pettigrew hadn't told her to keep that information to herself, she'd have told Dalton and been done with it. But by keeping silent, hadn't she only made things worse? What were his friends going to say when they found out he'd been escorting a maid around town instead of a houseguest of Mrs. Pettigrew's?

"Let's ask Mr. Tugs about the mistletoe," Dalton said. "I saw him carry a box of it into the drawing room."

She nodded and followed him across the grand foyer to the drawing room. Tugs was moving furniture away from the front windows where Mrs. Pettigrew had decided to put the tree.

"Tugs, the mistletoe?" Dalton said.

Mr. Tugs nodded at something across the room. "On the game table."

Chastity spied the wooden box and smiled. A sudden vision of Dalton kissing her popped into her head, and her cheeks heated. Mercy, she hoped he didn't notice.

He went to the table, pulled out a sprig and smiled. "I'll get the ladder." Dalton set the mistletoe back in the box, gave Chastity a wide smile, then left the room.

She blushed to her toes, and wondered if he would kiss her if they found themselves standing beneath it.

When he returned, he nodded at the wooden box. "Grab a piece of that and tie some ribbon around it. I'll hang it here." He settled the ladder in the middle of the drawing room entrance, then took a small hammer and a handful of tacks from a toolbox someone had put in a chair.

Chastity did as he said, and soon, he was hanging the mistletoe. She wound thin red ribbon around the other sprigs of mistletoe and followed him to different doorways where he hung it, smiling in satisfaction after each one. When they reached the library, there was no sign of his parents. "Where do you think they are?"

"Knowing my father, they're in the kitchen, stealing cookies as Mrs. Fraser takes them out of the oven."

She laughed. "Well, if that isn't unconventional, I don't know what is."

"Perhaps that's why Mrs. Pettigrew likes my family. My parents don't conform to strict social standards when it comes to Mrs. Pettigrew. Never have. She's the exception to their rule. Especially when it comes to my father."

"But he likes to put up a good front?"

He grinned. "He's a stickler for rules for the most part, and especially when it comes to work." He hung the mistletoe, climbed down the ladder, then moved it out of the way. "There, that looks nice, doesn't it?"

Chastity joined him and gazed at the mistletoe hanging over them. "Yes, it does." She looked into his eyes. "Do you think Mrs. Pettigrew wants us to hang it in every doorway?"

Dalton met and held her gaze. "I believe so. It will make it difficult not to… you know…"

She swallowed hard as her mouth went dry. "Kiss?"

He nodded, and she was vaguely aware of one of his arms slipping around her. Dalton bent his face to hers. "Yes. Perhaps we should make sure it's working."

"Wh-what?" Before she could get anything else out—hard to do when her brain stopped working—he kissed her. A gentle brush across the lips, and then it was over.

Chastity thought she might faint!

"Did it work?" he whispered near her mouth. "I think it did."

She opened her eyes and blinked at him, unable to speak.

He drew back and smiled. "Oh, it definitely did." Dalton gave her a sheepish look. "You didn't slap me, for one."

That pulled her out of her stupor. "Oh!"

His face softened. "Chastity, I… well, it's mistletoe," he said in explanation.

She glanced up. "Indeed, it is."

"I had to."

"You did."

"Don't hold it against me. It…" he looked around then whispered. "… could happen again. There's mistletoe everywhere."

She looked around then giggled. "You're right."

"Here you are," Mrs. Pettigrew drawled as she came down the short hall that led to the library. "I seem to have lost your parents, Dalton. Do you know where they are?" She eyed them, and Chastity took a step back. Did she know Dalton kissed her? If anything were to get her fired, that would! Misconduct of a servant was never tolerated. Chastity unconsciously took another step back and clasped her hands behind her back.

Mrs. Pettigrew looked up. "Ah, you've hung more mistletoe! Magnifique! "

"We're glad you approve," Dalton said. "You did want it everywhere."

"I do. There will be no excuses not to kiss during my ball." She gave them a sly smile. "It's one of the reasons the guest list is small and made up of people I know well. Some of them don't kiss enough." She winked at them and strode back the way she came.

Chastity sucked in a breath. Was she referring to them? Good grief, maybe she had seen them kiss. But why would she approve of such a thing?

Dalton chuckled. "I want to know who else is on her guest list."

She cast him a wary look. "Will they know they're expected to kiss during her ball?"

He laughed. "They'll figure it out soon enough. Mrs. Pettigrew is a matchmaker, after all."

"But as far as I know, most of the guests, if not all, are married." She frowned. "Except you, of course."

"And you." He smiled, then motioned her to precede him down the hall.

She did and gulped. Mrs. Pettigrew couldn't possibly be thinking of matching her with Dalton, could she? No, it was out of the question. She just hired her because needed another maid. Why hire her only to marry her off? It was preposterous!

She entered the hall that led into the grand foyer and took in the sight of everyone gathered. Mrs. Fraser held a huge tray of cookies. Mr. Simpson hovered behind her, trying to sneak one as Mrs. Simpson spoke with Mrs. Pettigrew. Mr. Tugs carried a tray laden with a silver coffee pot with matching cups and saucers into the drawing room. And Abigail was sweeping up bits and pieces of fir bough that had come loose from Dalton and Mr. Tugs' efforts to decorate the stair rail.

It was a happy gathering, and Chastity couldn't help but smile. What then, was she going to do when Dalton found out why she was really here? Should she speak with Mrs. Pettigrew about it? At least if she was allowed to tell him, her conscious would be clear. But…

"You look deep in thought," he whispered by her side. "Don't tell me you're thinking of our kiss?"

She blushed a deep red. "Of course not. I… I need to speak with Mrs. Pettigrew about something." She'd have to confess to the kiss as well and hope and pray Mrs. Pettigrew didn't fire her.

"It was a spectacular kiss, Miss Eastwick. I will cherish it always," he said near her ear.

She looked at him, stupefied. "You… you will?"

"Indeed. For I do not give kisses lightly." He winked and strolled into the drawing room, taking a cookie from Mrs. Frasier's tray as he went.

A hand flew to her chest as Mrs. Pettigrew gave her a knowing look. "We should speak tomorrow, ma chérie ." She gave her a regal nod, then motioned everyone to follow her.

Chastity now stood alone in the grand foyer and contemplated if she'd just lost her job.