That is, until it became so familiar she realized with a start where they were taking her. “Wait, what are we doinghere?”
They hadn’t brought her to Grantham Lodge, as she’d feared they would.
They’d brought her to Hammond Court.
“Why are we here?” She turned on Francesca and Prue, dread coiling in her stomach. It had hurt terribly to leave it behind this morning, and now she’d have to find the courage to do it all over again. “I don’t want to go inside. Take me back to Sir Richard’s, please.”
But it was already too late. They were partway up the drive, and . . . what in the world? She pressed her nose to the window, amazed. Hammond Court didn’t look precisely as it used to during Ambrose’s Christmas parties, but it made her breath catch in pleasure, all the same.
It was quiet—nothing like the raucous affairs of Christmases past. Instead of the crush of carriages, the drive was deserted, and in place of the bright light spilling from every window, each was lit by the glow of a single candle only.
“My, it’s a lovely house, isn’t it?” Prue’s voice was hushed.
“I can see why you love it so much.” Francesca gave Rose a gentle smile.
“I do. I do love it.” Rose’s voice shook, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, my dear,” Prue murmured.
“Forgive me, it’s just that I’m going to miss it so dreadfully.” Rose dragged her arm across her cheek. “I can’t think why, really. It’s a terribly troublesome place, with all the dratted leaks, and the broken windows, and you can’t imagine the number of spiders . . .” She trailed off, her gaze moving over the house.
There were no longer any leaks, spiders, or broken windows. Max had seen to that.
“Ah, but broken windows can be repaired, as you see. There’s nothing broken that can’t be repaired, Rose,” Francesca murmured. “As hopelessly damaged as it might seem, there isn’t a single thing that can’t be made new again.”
“Franny’s right, Rose.” Prue smiled. “And once it is made new, you may find it’s more beautiful, more special than it ever was before.”
Rose said nothing but continued to gaze at the house, strangely breathless. She had the oddest sensation in her chest. It felt almost like . . . hope.
The carriage stopped at the top of the drive. Francesca didn’t wait for the coachman, but opened the door and stepped down, reaching her hand out to Rose. “Shall we have a peek inside? Come, Rose, let’s have a closer look.”
Rose accepted Francesca’s hand, but once they were on the drive, she hesitated. The house appeared to be deserted, but someone had lit those candles, and she could think of only one person who’d spend so much time and effort just to please her.
Because, once again, this had all been done for her. It must have been, because there wasn’t a single person in Fairford who could ever love this house more than she did. “Yes, I’d like to go inside.”
Francesca smiled and squeezed her hand. “Wonderful. I’m so glad, Rose.”
Rose dragged her feet a bit on their way to the door, a sudden shyness overtaking her, but Francesca and Prue urged her along, and soon enough they passed through the doorway and into the entryway.
“Oh!” Rose pressed a hand to her mouth.
Garlands had been woven through the spindles of the grand staircase, and draped over the banister, all the way up to the second floor. It wasn’t quite dark outside yet, but the sconces in the entryway had been lit, and a soft glow came from the direction of the drawing room.
“It’s so pretty.” It was lovely and warm and smelled of fresh pine, and for a moment it was as if she were a young girl again, getting her first glimpse of Hammond Court at Christmastime.
But she was no longer a child. She was a fully grown woman, and too old to run away from her problems. So, when Max stepped from the shadows of the hallway into the entryway and held out his hand to her . . .
She took it.
That was when she knew. The candlelight, the garlands, the scent of fresh pine—they all meant Hammond Court at Christmastime to her.
But it was only when she took Max’s hand, and his fingers closed around hers, that she felt as if she’d truly come home.
* * *
She’d come.
It wasn’t until her hand slipped into his that he realized how terrified he’d been that she wouldn’t. In the hours since they’d finished preparing the house, and Montford and Basingstoke had left him here at Hammond Court alone, Max had gone from wildly soaring hope to the darkest depths of despair.
