Page 12 of Holly and the Viscount
“Jealous?” Rose sat up straight and grinned. “Have you been thinking about what I said, Holly?”
“Not at all.”
“What?” Ash looked at them, his gaze moving from Holly to her younger sister. “What did you say, Rose?”
“Nothing of import,” Holly said. “How long would it take a cart to go from here to North Yorkshire?”
“Oh, no,” Ash said. “We’re not going to the trouble of sending that tree up to Thorn’s family. It can rot in Knavesmire Wood, for all I care.”
“But Lord Thornton cares,” Holly pointed out. “And he did save your life, after all.”
Ash had no reply to that. He went back to his tea, stirring another lump of sugar into his half-full cup, much to Holly’s disgust.
“The weather’s turning,” he said. “A storm’s on the way, and it would be a fool’s errand. Besides, who knows if the tree is even still in Knavesmire?”
“I might have sent the footmen to fetch it,” Holly admitted.
“What?” Ash frowned at her. “Whyever would you do such a thing?”
Because I promised Lord Thornton. And he kissed me.She hoped her thoughts didn’t show on her face.
“Can we install it here?” Rose asked excitedly. “We could put it in the grand hall, beside the staircase. I wonder if we have enough scarlet ribbons to garland it? Or perhaps white?—”
“Enough.” Ash pushed his chair back and rose. “Take the matter up with our parent. My good deeds are done for the day.”
As soon as he departed, Rose grinned at Holly. “How marvelous—a Christmas tree at Hartley House! I’ll go speak with Mother right away. I’m sure she’ll agree.”
“But…” Holly pressed her lips together in thought.
She’d told Lord Thornton she’d see about the tree—yet if it wasn’t feasible to transport it to Dovington Hall, she supposed Hartley House would suffice. Besides, Ash had sent a messenger to Lord Thornton’s family the day before, after it became clear the viscount would be unable to travel. His sister would know that he wasn’t coming for Christmas, and surely she would understand that the tree was included in that change of plans.
Still, if the viscount insisted the evergreen go to North Yorkshire, Holly would do her best to see that it did.
“Wait a bit before asking Mother,” she said to Rose. “I’m sure she’ll agree, since you can always talk her into your schemes—but let me speak with the viscount first.”
Rose’s brows rose, but she didn’t argue. “Then by all means, go have a word with our guest.”
Holly gave a sharp nod, more to reassure herself than her sister. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she finished her tea and went to speak with Lord Thornton.
Theo layin the guest bed, his foot propped up with pillows, and scowled at his ankle. The doctor had told him to stay off it for at least a week—a week! No matter how much he wanted to continue his journey, riding was out of the question. But he refused to remain bedridden through the holidays. Surely Ash could procure him a crutch of some kind, so that he could at least hobble about.
He was sorry he wouldn’t reach Dovington Hall in time for Christmas. And sorry about the tree, and how disappointed Viola would be. Theo had to admit that the sight of a majestic evergreen inside the house, decked with glittery things and sparkling with candles, had become the new hallmark of the season.
The one he’d picked out in the wood yesterday had been the best yet, but, alas, it was doomed to lie there, rotting back into the soil. Which, after that near-disaster, was probably for the best. At least Ash was all right, though the injury to his own ankle was annoying at best. Perhaps, in the future, he wouldn’t choose to fell quite as impressive a tree.
A quiet knock came at Theo’s door, and he called for them enter—probably a servant with a tisane or somesuch. Instead, Lady Holly stepped inside, leaving the door properly ajar.
“Good day, Lord Thornton,” she said with a tentative smile. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
“I am, though my ankle pains me a bit,” he admitted, and gestured to the chair drawn up beside the bed. “Please, sit a moment. I’d be glad of your company.”
She moved gracefully to the indicated seat, and he had a sudden memory of dancing with her at the Christmas Ball last year. At the time, he’d been intent on escaping his sister’s machinations to snare him a wife, but even then he’d noted that Lady Holly was light on her feet.
“How did you sleep?” she asked, giving him an intent look.
“Restlessly. I believe laudanum gives me bad dreams.”
“Do you not recall getting out of bed in the night?”
