Page 70 of Hearts Held
She makes no sound as I scoop her small, trembling frame into my arms.
“Where are you going with her?” Bobby asks. I lock eyes with him and unspoken words pass between us. Then I nod toward Giorgio’s body, implying that he should help Biscuit with the ties.
Ignoring Bobby’s protest, I move toward the door clutching Brielle tighter to my chest. Leaving the room, I start down the hallway and find the side door. Exiting with Brielle, my two men stationed outside the building appear shocked to see me leaving.
“Sir, you all right?” they state in unison.
Nodding toward them I state, “Just make sure no one comes out, and keep an ear out for any chatter from the Italians.”
I slowly lower Brielle into the passenger seat of my Crossley motorcar, then enter the driver’s side. Peering at her from the corner of my eye, I see her still staring at nothing. Almost lifeless.
Her form still rocks with slight tremors. I need to hurry, for she is in shock.
Though it isn’t the best decision, I begin the drive to my estate. It is roughly twenty minutes from downtown Lockham, but if I speed I can make it in good time.
Outstretching one arm, I pull Brielle’s curled form into my side, explaining everything I’m doing so as not to startle her.
She still does not speak, only continues with her small shakes.
After some time, I finally make it down the main road to the estate, and the manor appears closer with each spin of the Crossley’s wheels.
Nestled amidst the rolling hills and lush countryside, the magnificent stone manor stands as a testament to a bygone era. A sweeping driveway, lined with ancient oak trees, leads to the imposing entrance, where a wrought-iron gate opens to reveal the grandeur that lies beyond.
The manor itself holds rustic charm, built with weathered limestone. The walls bear the marks of centuries, each stone telling a story of love and resilience. Ivy, with delicate tendrils, clings to the exterior,softening the edges and adding a touch of enchantment to the imposing structure.
Gathering Brielle into my arms, I hear movement behind me as the sound of steps over gravel comes closer. Mrs. Foster’s voice rings through my ears. “Sir, is everything well?”
Then “How may we help, sir?” from Mr. Baker.
I nod toward the both of them.
“Baker, call and update my men. I didn’t have time to discuss what happened.” I hug Brielle closer to my body as I feel the gravel crunching beneath my oxfords. “Call Baba. Request her presence. Potentially need her assistance with providing medical attention for a female colleague. Mrs. Foster, please draw a warm bath and gather comfortable garments for Brielle.”
Mr. Baker nods then heads into the manor.
“Is this who I set the town house up for, sir?” Mrs. Foster asks in her sweet voice.
“It is,” I reply. Mrs. Foster hurries into the manor as I shift Brielle in my arms, soothing her. “It’s going to be all right, dove. I’ve got you, shh.”
As I step up the marble stairs and through the mahogany double doors, we are welcomed into a foyeradorned with a decorative antler chandelier that casts a warm glow over the polished marble floors. I cautiously take each step up the sweeping staircase, holding Brielle tight to my chest. We pass the banisters carved with meticulous detail as the sound of a filling tub resounds in the distance.
Turning down the long hallway, soft sconces with frosted glass shades cast a warm, muted glow, creating an intimate ambiance and lighting the passage to my room. Tapestries line the walls; one depicts intricate pictures of medieval dragons and the another portrays beautiful horses galloping in a pasture, both images frozen in time.
My steps echo softly within the darkness. The scent of aged leather and polished mahogany waft from an open door, revealing my small library. We pass the leather-bound books lining the shelves.
My mind wandering, I picture Brielle within the library, cuddled up in my chaise reading Dickens.
Shaking my head back to reality, I continue down the passage. We pass the various guest rooms, rich with deep blues and reds and adorned with leather and velvet furniture.
As I near the main suite, the smell of eucalyptus and lavender invades my senses and a small sense of calm overcomes my stimulated mind.
My suite has a custom oak-framed bed, with ornate dragons carved on each post. Nearly five people could sleep within the bed, which is comfortably covered in a soft blue velvet duvet.
Black curtains cover the floor-to-ceiling windows, and two large leather lounge chairs are seated beside the windows. Bookcases complement each side of the vast stone fireplace.
There is a stone hearth accompanied by a wide expanse of dark granite. It stretches across the base of the fireplace, providing a sturdy foundation for the flickering flames. The crackling fire emits a warm glow, which dances across the walls.
The mantel holds an array of artfully arranged artifacts—porcelain adder figurines, a vintage clock with a pendulum swaying rhythmically, and a row of carefully arranged family photographs. Above the mantel, an antique mirror with an ornate gilt frame reflected the ambient light, amplifying the warm and intimate atmosphere.
