Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

H olly took in the beautiful Christmas tree standing majestically at the front of the huge drawing room. Having never ventured from the cheery bedroom Mrs. Pettigrew placed her in, she wasn’t sure what to expect. The Pettigrew mansion was overwhelming, and she wanted to cry at the sight of the grand staircase that led to a large foyer complete with chandelier, paintings of what had to be the Pettigrew family, among some pastoral scenes, and then the drawing room itself. It was decorated in blues and whites with the occasional pastel piece of furniture.

The tree was trimmed in red ribbon and bows, and of course glass ornaments. A star graced the top and candles decorated different branches. She could only imagine what the tree looked like when they were lit and couldn’t wait until evening came. She just hoped she had the energy to come downstairs and enjoy the sight.

“You like it,” Mr. Bradshaw stated. He sat across from her and peeked around the side of his chair to look at the tree. “It’s bigger than ours. Much bigger.”

Holly pulled her gaze from the beautiful sight and smiled at him. “I’m sure it’s a fine tree.”

“Oh, to be sure,” he said. “But it won’t win the same affection from you, I guarantee you that. Not when one considers the look of admiration you’re giving to the tree behind me.”

She met his gaze again. “It’s just… I’m so grateful for all Mrs. Pettigrew has done for me.” Tears stung the backs of her eyes again just thinking about it. “I don’t know what would have happened had you not found me…”

Mr. Bradshaw held up a hand. “The important thing is that you’re safe and recovering from your ordeal.”

She clutched her teacup to her chest. Did he know what her ordeal was? Did he know about Randall? She unconsciously glanced at the grand foyer. What if Randall were to track her here? But then, how could he? Her brother had no idea where she went. Even if he coerced some men into helping him look, would they have made it this far?

“Something troubles you,” Mr. Bradshaw said in a gentle voice.

She held her cup closer then decided she’d better take a sip of tea. Holly held her cup again, soaking up the warmth, and forced a smile. “I have a lot to think about as well as be thankful for.”

“Getting well is all you need think about right now,” he advised. “You have plenty of time to think on other things later.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “You have so much before you, Miss Turtledove.”

“Please, call me Holly.” She smiled again, a genuine smile this time. “You’ve read to me.”

He leaned back in his chair again. “I had no idea reading was so intimate. You wish me to address you by your Christian name?”

“Mrs. Pettigrew has me calling everyone else by their first name. Except her of course. But Abigail told me she’ll have me calling her Adelia in no time.”

He chuckled. “That is true. Though I’ve yet to be given the honor.”

“You have to pass muster, I hear.” Holly smiled and drank the rest of her tea.

“Give me your cup, I’ll refill it,” he offered.

She held it up as he left his chair and watched him head for the tea tray on a low table. He was handsome, well-dressed, and attentive. But if he knew where she came from, would he act so interested? Fool that she was, Holly wasn’t even sure if she could call it interest. Maybe it was pity and nothing more.

He refilled her cup, added some sugar and gave it a stir. She took it from him with a smile and noticed the warm brown of his eyes. There was a hint of sadness in them she couldn’t fathom. How could someone that was obviously from the city’s higher echelons of society be sad? They had everything. Food, fancy clothes, wealth, power, and enormous homes with servants. Yet…

“You look puzzled, Miss…that is, Holly.” Mr. Bradshaw gave her a gentle smile. “You must call me, Joseph.”

She stared at him as her heart skipped. Oh dear, that wasn’t from her ailment. That was from…attraction? “Very well. Joseph.” She said his name softly, trying it out. “It’s a nice name.”

He shrugged. “I like it.” He scanned the room. “It seems everyone has abandoned us.”

Holly leaned forward, her cup held with both hands, and looked around. “You’re right. Where do you suppose everyone went?”

He stood. “I can check.”

She shook her head as a bout of dizziness hit. “No need. I’ll be needing to return to my room soon.”

“Do you wish to go now?”

“I can last a while longer. I like looking at the tree.” She took in the tree and smiled.

Without warning, Joseph approached her chair and tucked the blanket on her lap around her tighter. “I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

She looked at him. He was so close, and she caught the tiny gold flecks in his eyes. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Of course not,” he said softly. He gazed into her eyes a moment, then straightened. “Drink your tea, it will help warm you. Shall I build up the fire?”

She looked at the fireplace. The fire burned low. “Yes, thank you.”

He put more wood on and stoked the embers. The flames rose, and Holly closed her eyes a moment enjoying the heat. When she opened them, Joseph was back in his chair, cup and saucer in hand, gazing at her with the same admiring look she’d been giving the tree.

She closed her eyes, opened them. She must be imagining the look on his face.

“Are you alright?” Joseph asked with concern.

Holly looked at him again and noted his eyes matched his voice. “Why do you care?”

He straightened, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Why do you care about what happens to me?”

His jaw slackened, for a moment before he frowned. “Holly, is it a crime to care? Shall I be better off treating you with indifference? We found you freezing to death in Mrs. Pettigrew’s carriage. We rescued you from the elements and brought you here to be cared for. Of course I care. And will continue to do so. If that makes you feel uncomfortable then I’m sorry. But I will not back down.”

“Back down?”

“Of course not. I’ll see you get well, as will the rest of us.”

Holly sank a little in her chair. She wasn’t expecting such a speech. Had Randall’s betrayal jaded her against the kindness of others? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He drew in a breath. “What happened to you, Holly?” Joseph leaned toward her again. “What did he do to you?”

She shrank back and almost dropped her teacup. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Your relative.”

She sucked in a breath. “Mrs. Pettigrew…”

“Don’t be angry with her. She only told me so that I can help keep an eye out for the blackguard.”

Her eyes widened. “He won’t come here, will he?” Holly heard the panic in her voice and hoped he hadn’t. She wasn’t that lucky.

“What did he do?” Joseph asked and left his chair. “Who is he?”

Holly’s lower lip trembled but she said nothing.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too much for you. But know that I will protect you from him.”

Holly closed her eyes. When he found out where she came from, he might not be so eager. She was wearing a pretty dress, Abigail styled her hair, and her face was clean. She saw herself in the mirror in her room and marveled at her appearance. She’d never worn a dress so fine, and loved how it brought out the green in her eyes. But she was from the lowest of the low as far as class went, and no man of his ilk would ever be interested in her. She was chattel to men like Joseph Bradshaw and nothing more. For goodness’ sake, she was chattel to the men at the rundown hotel she and Randall were staying at. What was its name again? The White Horse? She couldn’t remember. Everything was muddled. Maybe because she was trying harder to forget about her ordeal than remember it.

“I’ve upset you. I’m sorry,” Joseph said. “Forgive me.”

She looked at him. He was standing by the fire now, inching his way toward her. “No… I’m… fine.”

“You’re not. And you looked as if you’re growing tired.”

Holly tried to take a deep breath. It hurt. “Perhaps I should return to my room.”

“An excellent idea,” Mrs. Pettigrew’s voice called from the other side of the drawing room. “Joseph, help Holly to her feet.”

Holly watched him look at something behind her chair. It must be Mrs. Pettigrew approaching. “Yes, ma’am.” He took Holly’s teacup and saucer from her, then pulled her to her feet. The blanket slipped to the floor, and Mrs. Pettigrew picked it up and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Holly said, her eyes glued to Joseph’s.

“Joseph, carry her upstairs to her room,” Mrs. Pettigrew ordered. “I’ll not have her tiring herself out.”

Joseph stood straighter, gave Holly a warm smile, then looked at Mrs. Pettigrew. “With pleasure.”

Before Holly could protest, he swept her into his arms and began to carry her toward the grand foyer.

“But… Mrs. Pettigrew!” Holly cried. “There’s no need…”

“There’s every need, Holly, dear,” Mrs. Pettigrew said with a smile.

Holly gaped at Joseph. With the blanket around her shoulders and arms, she couldn’t even wrap her arms around his neck to lessen his load.

He didn’t seem to mind as he carried her up the stairs to the second floor and into her room. Once inside, he set her on her feet by the bed. Abigail came into the room and put an arm around her. “Let’s get you into your nightgown. You’ll be more comfortable.”

Holly ignored her as her eyes locked with Joseph’s. He stepped back, smiled, and bowed. “My work here is done.” He straightened. “Unless of course you’d like me to stay and read to you a bit after you’re in bed.”

“Of course she’d like that,” Mrs. Pettigrew said as she entered the room. “Now off with you while we get Holly ready.” She waved Joseph out the door then smiled at Holly. “Now, ma petite , let us make you irresistible.”

Holly’s eyes widened. What in the world was she talking about?