The Christmas Bride by Anne Gracie

Author:Anne Gracie [Gracie, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gracie Enterprises

Chapter 6

The road was mired in melting snow and mud, and by the time they reached Davenham Court, Charley was exhausted from the jolting of the carriage and the effort to be polite to these very kind ladies. She caught a glimpse of a sweeping drive lined with trees, a large, impressive house with columns and a tower and dozens of windows as the carriage pulled up. Servants ran out to meet them and, being deemed too weak to walk, she was swept inside in Ash's arms.

Under the supervision of the two ladies, he carried Charley up to a pretty bedchamber and laid her gently on the bed. He would have stayed to talk then—to argue about his ridiculous proposal of marriage, no doubt—but the two ladies had shooed him out.

“Now, my dear, would you like a hot bath?” Lady Davenham asked.

A hot bath. How long had it been? “I'd love one,” Charley said. “You're very kind, Lady Davenham.”

“Call me Abby. We're all friends here—more than friends—we're like family.”

The handsome Irishman had said much the same. Charley didn't understand, but she was tired and aching and she didn't have the energy to ask. The lady called Damaris disappeared and Abby supervised the footmen and maids who brought up pails of hot water and filled a large bath in front of a blazing fire.

Abby and one of the maids helped Charley to undress. She was mortified by the state of her worn, patched clothing, but Abby said, “Don't give it a thought, my dear. There's not one person here who doesn't understand poverty.”

Charley gave her a skeptical glance. Poverty? Living in this luxurious mansion?

Abby smiled. “I know it doesn't look like it now—we've all been very lucky. But just a year ago Damaris and I and my sisters Jane and Daisy and even Lady Beatrice, who you'll meet in a day or so—they're traveling down from London—were in a desperate state. Without a home and on the verge of starvation—I promise you, it's true.” She poured some creamy liquid into the bath and swished it around with her hand. The scent of roses drifted up with the steam. “Now, in you hop, Miss Smith.”

“Please, call me Charlotte. Or Charley.” She glanced at Abby and and decided she couldn’t lie to her, not after her kindness. And if it was really true they were once homeless and destitute, well . . . surely she would understand. “And it's not really Smith, I'm Charlotte Underwood. I was—we were in hiding.” She dropped the last of her clothes, and embarrassingly aware that she must look like a skinned rabbit, stepped into the steaming bath and sank down into the fragrant, steaming water. It was utter bliss.

Being careful not to touch her injury, Abby scrubbed her back while the maid washed her hair. Not since she was a little girl had Charley felt so pampered and cared for. She blinked back tears. After so long battling on her own, it was lovely to just let herself be looked after.

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