On the Second Day of Christmas: A Christmas Regency Romance Read online

  On the Second Day of Christmas

  Deborah M. Hathaway

  Copyright © 2020

  On the Second Day of Christmas by Deborah M. Hathaway

  All rights reserved.

  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed by any part or by any means without written consent of the author.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Published by Draft Horse Publishing

  ©Copyright 2020 by Deborah M. Hathaway

  © 2020 Cover Art by Ashtyn Newbold

  © Cover Photo by Martha Keyes

  First Printed Edition, November 2020

  This book is a work of fiction. All character names and personalities are entirely fictional, created solely in the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-7334820-6-6

  Contents

  Books by Deborah M. Hathaway

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Other titles in the Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair series*

  Books by Deborah M. Hathaway

  About the Author

  Books by Deborah M. Hathaway

  Stand Alone Novels

  A Secret Fire

  When Two Rivers Meet

  To Warm a Wintered Heart

  A Cornish Romance Series

  On the Shores of Tregalwen, a Prequel Novella

  Behind the Light of Golowduyn, Book One

  For the Lady of Lowena, Book Two

  Near the Ruins of Penharrow, Book Three

  Belles of Christmas Multi-Author Series

  Nine Ladies Dancing, Book Four

  On the Second Day of Christmas, Book Four

  Seasons of Change Multi-Author Series

  The Cottage by Coniston, Book Five

  For Chloe—

  How lucky I am to have a niece

  who loves reading

  as much as I love writing.

  Your support means the world to me.

  Thank you!

  Chapter 1

  London, December

  Thick clouds cloaked the sky with an impenetrable grey, blocking out the warmth of the sun’s light. The biting wind clipped through the London crowds, threatening to make good on its promise to undermine the scarves, gloves, and outerwear worn by those gathering on the frozen River Thames.

  Despite the chill, the darkened skies, and the potential of even more snow, Miss Lucy Lincoln’s enthusiasm would not be dulled. How could it be, now that this frigid winter had brought something as delightful as the Frost Fair to England?

  She exited the carriage and neared the icy river, her eyes hungrily devouring the sight, as if the image would vanish if she didn’t take it all in at once. Dull brown tents were pitched in rows across the ice, like giant animals lined up in a motionless caravan. Burgeoning snow had tipped a ship free of billowing sails onto its side near the tents, broken wood splintering from each end of the once-moving vessel.

  A muted moodiness would have settled around the whole affair, were it not for the countless red and green cloaks and pelisses, the velvet bonnets decorated in holly and ivy, brightening the otherwise colorless imagery.

  Lucy couldn’t wait to add her own deep red pelisse to the masses. “Come along, Aunt Harriet. At this rate, all the good food and mementos will be gone before we even arrive.”

  Her aunt laughed at her side. “I assure you, there will be plenty of goods left for everyone. As for the food, you did see the size of the pig they are roasting, did you not? That is sure to feed the lot of us for weeks.”

  Aunt Harriet had already experienced the frozen Thames years ago, but this was Lucy’s first, and she wouldn’t waste a single moment of dallying.

  She’d visited London more than a dozen times and often marveled at the size of the Thames. But now, with printing presses, tents, games, and hordes of people replacing the boats that had once roamed up and down the deep waters—it was the strangest sight Lucy had ever beheld.

  They reached the outer edge of the river, and instead of pausing and warily eying the ice like the rest of the group, Lucy and Aunt Harriet strode forward without so much as a tentative step, marching confidently onto the uneven ice after paying a few coins for entrance.

  Neither one of them had ever cowered from an adventure and walking across the frozen Thames would certainly be just that.

  As they meandered past book stalls and drinking tents filled with laughter and smiles, Lucy’s excitement buzzed within her. “Where shall we venture first, Aunt?”

  “We must see it all, mustn’t we?” White puffs of air lingered around Aunt from her words. “But first, that tantalizing smell of pork is calling to me.”

  Lucy grinned. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  With a shared look of enthusiasm, they traipsed across the river, following the thick scent of roasted mutton and pork. Finally, they neared the large fire blazing atop the ice, a full pig turning above the flames.

  Grey smoke drifted to the even greyer skies, lingering above London and refusing to dissipate—like the smoke in Papa’s library when he took to his pipe without opening the windows.

  Mama would wander in with a wave of her hand and a scolding to her husband, though she always ended her words with a kiss atop his balding head. Papa would smile, then he’d return to reading whatever book had caught his fancy that day.

  Lucy smiled at the memory. She hadn’t seen her parents since leaving Northamptonshire at the beginning of the month and wouldn’t be reunited with them until they made the journey themselves to London, hopefully before the end of Christmastide. She’d miss spending Christmas day with them this year, but then, had they come early with Lucy to Aunt Harriet’s townhome in London, Lucy was fairly certain she would not have been allowed to go to the Frost Fair.

  Mama and Papa had always encouraged her to make her own decisions, to be as free-spirited as Aunt Harriet—Mama’s sister—but Lucy’s parents themselves were far more reserved.

  “Mama would not have approved of this, would she have, Aunt?”

  They passed by a drinking tent filled with men and women alike. Beyond, a few young ladies slipped on the ice, falling softly on their backsides and revealing their stockings up to their knees. Instead of helping them up, a few men gawked with greedy eyes.

  “No, she most certainly would not have approved,” Aunt Harriet said. “Although, she would have been more inclined to take part in all of this when she and I were younger.”

  Lucy tipped her head. She couldn’t imagine Mama stepping a single foot near such a place. But then, Aunt had often spoken of how Mama was as a child—as carefree and spontaneous as Aunt Harriet still was.

  A flicker of sadness crossed Aunt’s features before she returned her smile. “But no matter. I suppose we shall simply have to do something perfectly acceptable after this so she doesn’t disapprove of us entirely. Perhaps visit a local books
hop? There’s a lovely one not too far from here overlooking the river. Barrington Books.”

  A bookshop? Since when had Aunt Harriet ever wished to enter a bookshop? Lucy had always enjoyed reading, just like Papa, but Aunt could certainly not claim the same interest.

  “Your father prefers reading about adventures to actually experiencing them,” Aunt would often say in his presence with barely restrained derision.

  Father, unaffected, would smile to himself and merely continue reading.

  It was no secret Aunt Harriet and Father were polar opposites, or that Aunt disapproved of him. But each time she made some criticism of Papa, as little as it may be, irritation scratched at Lucy’s nerves. Mama was happy with her husband—and Lucy with her father. Was that not enough for Aunt Harriet?

  Before Lucy could ask such a thing, her ears perked at the sound of a thick French accent spoken nearby.

  “You are certain it is safe, Lady Kirtley?” the young Frenchwoman asked. Her brownish-red ringlets draped past her temples as she peered disparagingly at the ice she stood upon.

  An older woman stood beside her with an encouraging nod. “Yes, Miss Babineaux. It is perfectly safe.”

  The pretty Miss Babineaux hardly looked convinced, but her companion continued urging her until their small party disappeared into a nearby tent that played host to the distinct smell of mutton.

  “Your parents would be just as frightened as that poor girl on the ice,” Aunt Harriet said as Miss Babineaux disappeared within the mutton tent. “Thank heavens you are with me instead of her.”

  Lucy couldn’t have said it better herself. She smiled, setting aside her earlier frustrations with Aunt as they moved forward.

  “Have you come to eat, ladies?” A large man with a jolly smile and a round girth reached his arms out from side to side, as if welcoming them with an embrace. He continued shouting, despite their proximity to his nearby tent that brimmed with smoke from a cooking pig. “Do join the feast! Years from now, you shall be able to say that you’ve indulged in the best meal upon the Thames!”

  Without hesitation, Lucy and Aunt Harriet entered the tent, taking a seat and accepting a large serving of roasted pork and boiled potatoes. The flag above the tent whipped against the wind with an occasional crack, but the loud laughter and conversation within the fabric walls of the tent sounded above all other noises.

  No, her parents would not have approved of any of this.

  But Lucy did. Thank heavens, indeed, for Aunt Harriet. The woman had always been more like a sister to Lucy than a guardian. With a mere fifteen years between them, the two of them had been known to become entangled often in predicaments—including becoming lost in Sherwood Forest because they insisted they knew the way better than their driver. They’d also nearly drowned in a boat on Lake Windermere because they told their guide they could row themselves when neither of them had before.

  Lucy smiled as she bit into another piece of pork, her mouth flooding with moisture. Yes, she and Aunt Harriet were quite a handful when they were together. Fortunately, they always seemed to pull themselves out of whatever quandaries in which they involved each other.

  But they certainly wouldn’t find themselves in any trouble at a Frost Fair. There were plenty of constables present, the ice was sturdy, and Aunt would ensure they stayed away from the more questionable locations. With such safety measures in practice, her parents would be sure to understand why Lucy just had to attend.

  After finishing “one of the best pieces of roasted pork I’ve ever tasted,” Aunt Harriet led the way from the tent, and she and Lucy forged their way down the Thames—just as the boat they’d ridden in last summer had once done.

  A large group of young men and women gathered together, dancing—and slipping—a reel to the lively tune created by fiddles.

  Aunt Harriet motioned toward them. “Care to join?”

  Lucy shook her head. She was all for being spontaneous and adventurous when it suited her, but she didn’t do well in large groups of people whom she didn’t know. It always made her nervous, and when she was nervous, she ran her tongue like a dog smacking his gums after eating honey.

  They moved past printing presses—“purchase the poems for proof that you walked on the Thames!”—and booths filled with overpriced goods most people typically would not purchase. Since they were on the Thames, though, the vendors filled their pockets and purses with coins quickly.

  As Aunt wandered a short distance away to another peddler, Lucy eyed a few pearl earrings before footsteps thumped behind her.

  “Miss Lincoln!” A man’s arms slipped round her waist, lifting her feet from the ground and spinning her above the ice.

  She would have yelped had she not instantly recognized the tone.

  “Martin Carter, you put me down this instant!” Her words sounded far lighter than she’d intended them as she ended them in a giggle.

  With her feet once more settled on the ice, she whirled around to face her friend, ignoring the questioning and disapproving glances from others.

  “I am so pleased to see you! It’s been far too long. Months! I didn’t think you would arrive, what with the weather we’ve been experiencing of late.”

  He flashed a charming grin, one that made other women swoon. One that only testified of Lucy’s wise decision to remain solely friends with such a flirt.

  “I wouldn’t have missed Christmas in Town for the world!” he exclaimed. “Though that fog was simply shocking, wasn’t it? Had I left Northamptonshire any later, I would’ve been locked indoors with my parents for all of Christmastide.”

  “And that would’ve been so very bad?”

  “You know my parents, Miss Lincoln.” He took on a high-pitched tone, mimicking his mother. “Martin, when will you provide me with grandchildren? Martin, why can’t you simply choose one female with whom to flirt? Martin, you are the reason I shall die young.”

  He gave a theatrical sigh as Lucy laughed. “Your impression is uncanny.”

  And it was. Having grown up alongside the Carters, Lucy knew all too well how Mrs. Carter wished for her son to marry and how his father wished for an heir to his estate. When Martin Carter would return home from school, he would often share his frustrations over his parents with Lucy. He and Lucy had always gotten along well together, having quite similar personalities.

  But where her own parents encouraged her to embrace her differences from other people, the Carters very much wished for their son to fit in with Society more than to stand out.

  “Being around them is exhausting,” Mr. Carter continued. “But in London, I am free to be with whomever I wish.”

  His gaze roved over to where two ladies eyed him from across the way. He winked, and they giggled, scurrying past him.

  Lucy watched with amusement. “Mmm, yes. And you are free to be with them for however long—or short—you wish.” She quirked a knowing brow.

  Mr. Carter grinned. “That’s the beauty of being a charismatic gentleman, I suppose. Although, in truth, my bachelorhood may be coming to an end.”

  “Oh?” That was surprising news, indeed. Mr. Carter had never once expressed a desire to wed. Had he finally found a woman to change his mind? “And why is that?”

  Before he could respond, Aunt Harriet appeared beside Lucy. “Mr. Carter, how do you do?”

  Mr. Carter bowed, reaching forth to place a quick peck to Aunt Harriet’s gloved hand. “Mrs. Bird, you are still as lovely as any woman I have ever known. Though your niece inches closer by the day.”

  Lucy and Aunt were both well aware of Mr. Carter’s tendency to flirt with whomever he pleased. Even still, his flattery somehow managed to make them both giggle behind their gloves.

  “You are looking rather lively yourself, Mr. Carter,” Aunt said.

  “A little ruddy in the cheeks but overall healthy,” Lucy teased.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said with a wink. “But who could help looking so lively with such a festivity as this?” He waved h
is arms around him. “Such a wonderful thing, is it not? I’m glad the both of you have decided to join in the fun. Though, I should’ve known neither of you would let anything stop you from enjoying yourselves.”

  “Never,” Lucy and Aunt Harriet replied at the same time.

  Mr. Carter chuckled, rubbing his gloved hands together. His lips were tight, as if frozen stiff from the cold. “Well, I would love to stay and chat with you both, but I’ve promised to join in a game of skittles near the Blackfriars Bridge. You’d both be welcome to watch if you’d like.” He raised a brow at Lucy. “I know how you enjoy observing me when I play.”

  Lucy feigned a scoff. “Oh, do go on before you charm us half to death.”

  “I will call upon you soon, yes? Lovely to see you both again!” After a bow of departure, he bounded as carefully as possible across the ice.

  Lucy watched after him with a humored sigh, but Aunt Harriet’s gaze remained on Lucy.

  Chapter 2

  “What is it?” Lucy asked.

  Aunt Harriet walked ahead without a word, focusing on the booths they passed. Lucy knew what Aunt had been about to say, and though she wished to set it aside, the unspoken words wedged beneath her nerves in a way she could not bear.

  “Aunt, we’ve been through this before.”