Nine Ladies Dancing: A Regency Christmas Novella: Twelve Days of Christmas, #2

By Amanda McCabe

(A sequel to the novella Partridge in a Pear Tree)

Spend Christmas in the magic of Regency England!

The lovely, red-haired Gordon twins, studious Jane and vivacious Kitty, are excited to attend their first Kirkwood Christmas Ball at Swan Court--and are filled with plans for the future.  Kitty has dreams of marrying the Duke of Tremanton, while Jane thinks the handsome new vicar, Harry Phillips, might suit her.  But Christmas has a magic all it's own--and the universe has its own ideas of romance!  Will all end happily under the mistletoe?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda McCabe
• Release date: Nov 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393901396

Amanda McCabe

Amanda wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen--a vast historical epic starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class (and her parents wondered why math was not her strongest subject...) She's never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times BOOKReviews Reviewers' Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readers Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion.  She lives in Santa Fe with a Poodle, a cat, a wonderful husband, and a very and far too many books and royal memorabilia collections.  When not writing or reading, she loves taking dance classes, collecting cheesy travel souvenirs, and watching the Food Network--even though she doesn't cook.  Amanda also writes mysteries as Amanda Allen and Amanda Carmack.

Book preview

Prologue

December, 1810

It's all ruined! What a hideous disaster!

Jane Gordon had to bite back a laugh at her sister Kitty's agonized wail. They were twins, together almost every moment for their sixteen years, and Jane knew very well the difference between Kitty's real distress and horrid-novel-inspired shrieks. Those wails—brought on by a frayed hair ribbon, rain before a picnic, a book with a sad ending rather than a wedding—could vanish in an instant into laughter. Jane's own sorrows she kept buried deep, deep inside.

But life had been full of joy and peace since their older sister Allison married her beloved William Bradford and they all came to live at Swan Court. After a childhood of genteel poverty, their widowed mother scraping for every ha'penny, it was like a dream in one of Kitty's romantic novels.

Jane turned the page of the book she was reading, a treatise on Greek philosophy rather than a Gothic romance, and glanced up at the firelit, pink and white sitting room they shared. Whatever is amiss, Kitty darling?

Oh, do put down that dull old book at once, Jane, and come look! Kitty insisted. She stood on tiptoe, her red curls falling over the ruffled collar of her nightdress, peering out the window into the night sky.

Have the chickens escaped into the courtyard again? Jane said, tucking a marker into the page of her book. Allie won't like that at all. You know how she insists every inch of Swan Court must be perfect for the Christmas ball.

Every year, Allison and William hosted their famous Lady Kirkwood Christmas Ball, to celebrate the festive season when they met and fell in love, and the late aunt who had been their benefactor in finding their home. Invitations were much sought-after, and Jane and Kitty had eagerly counted down the years when they could dance there themselves. As it was, they were only allowed to attend the dinner before the ball, but this year they could watch the first dance since they were sixteen. As long as they behaved.

Jane was never quite sure about Kitty in that regard.

Oh, no, far worse! Kitty sobbed. "It is snowing."

Snowing? That did catch Jane's attention. She tossed aside the book and ran to the window to peer outside next to her sister.

Blast, she whispered. It was a word they were forbidden to use, but it sounded appropriate. Great, white, fat flakes blanketed the garden below.

Usually snow at Christmas would be a good thing, a magical background to the green boughs and wreaths of white flowers and red ribbons, the velvet and silk gowns and flashing jewels in the ballroom. But it was too early. Much too early! What if no guests could reach Swan Court at all?

It is awful, Kitty whispered. Allie said we can watch the first dance, since Gertrude's engagement will be announced after.

William's sister Gertrude, who had become like their own sister over the years, was only a little older than them, but she was a delicate golden beauty, newly engaged to an earl. It was an extra-special Christmas ball.

Jane sat down on the pink-cushioned settee near the window, and drew Kitty with her. She wrapped her arms around her sister's trembling shoulders and tried to distract her. "Gertrude's fiance is splendid indeed, isn't he? So handsome and sweet, and rich, they say. Gertrude will be a countess! And I am sure you will marry someone just the same, Kitty darling."

Kitty sniffed. Do you really think so?

I know so! You are by far the prettiest of us, and the most fun. And it was true. They were twins, with the same red curls, cat-like green eyes, and fair skin that tended to freckle in the summer. But Kitty's hair was deeper, darker, more like autumn leaves than Jane's apple-red, her cheeks less prone to those freckles, her nose more Grecian. And she was definitely more fun. While Jane tended to spend her time with books and studies, Kitty played the pianoforte, danced, pulled pranks on the governesses.

What sort of man would you wish to marry, then? Jane said. Someone like in one of your novels?

Kitty laughed. Oh, no. They are much too inclined to have dungeons beneath their castles to imprison fair maidens. I want someone kind, who will let me have my own way. Someone who laughs a lot, who likes to ride and swim and dance. Someone with a fine house indeed!

I think you would make a splendid duchess, mistress of a stately home.

Indeed I would! Kitty laughed and sat up, smoothing her hair. But what of you, Jane? What kind of husband would you want?

Jane had never really thought about that question, though she knew she should. Gertrude's engagement had made her realize how old they were truly getting, that soon they would make their bows in Society and perhaps have to respond to proposals. What would she want? Someone kind, of course, just like Kitty said. Someone intelligent, who liked to read, who she could talk to about her own studies. Someone with useful work, I think, where I could be of help. Maybe a clergyman? Or a don at Oxford?

Yes, that would suit you quite well, Kitty said with a decisive nod. I am quite sure that is what we will find one day. I will be a leader of Society, and you will be a scholar in a country vicarage, studying by the fire with your bespectacled husband.

Jane laughed. It sounded perfect. Oh, yes. How happy we shall be!

Kitty sighed. If only it would stop snowing!

Girls! they heard Allison call from down the corridor. Are you awake? Do come down here at once!

Jane grabbed Kitty's hand and pulled her out of the sitting room and down the stairs. Swan Court was an old house, built in the Elizabethan manor style of dark-paneled walls and long galleries, with courtyards beyond the mullioned windows, but Allison had decorated it in comfortable, elegant style with deep-cushioned chairs and settees, bright carpets, pretty paintings of flowered landscapes. It was a place that seemed always filled with laughter and music, love and fun.

Even on that evening, when Allison's voice was frantic.

Hurry, we must bring in the potted plants from the front steps, Allison said, waving to them as they came to the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner into the marble foyer. The front doors were open, letting in flurries of lacy snow as the footmen carried in potted ferns and palms decorated with red satin bows. Allie's red hair, longer and straighter than the twins, hung down her back, her cheeks glowing just as red.

If they are frozen, there will be no time to fetch more from the hothouses, Allison fretted. She glimpsed Jane and Kitty hovering on the bottom step, and gave them a rueful smile. Oh, girls, there you are! Can you help with the plants?

Will there be no ball, then, Allie? Kitty asked, her voice quivering. Is it canceled? Jane squeezed her hand.

Allison put her arms around them both and pressed kisses to their brows. I hope not, my darlings. This ball is very special, I know. But Christmas will be special even if it's just us here, won't it? We'll still have our Wassail bowl, and our songs...

"The Twelve Days of Christmas?" Kitty sniffed. It was her best song on the pianoforte.

Allison laughed. Of course. It's our favorite, is it not?

The front door opened again to the parade of footmen bearing more pots of greenery, along with more eddies of snow that dusted the black and white tiled floor of the foyer. Behind them was William, Allison's husband. His dark greatcoat and hat were dotted with silvery-white. He took off his hat and shook it off, his dark hair curling wildly.

I was just in the village, Allie my love, he said with a laugh. The shops were closing early, but I managed to buy the last of these.

He held out a beribboned box of brightly-colored, sugar-dusted cakes, decorated to look like tiny presents with marzipan bows.

See, girls, Allison said. I said we would have a fine Christmas no matter what happens! Cakes and carols are all ours.

Jane? Are you awake? Kitty whispered, hours after all the plants were saved and all the cakes consumed.

No, Jane muttered, but she knew it would do no good. Her sister would just go on talking even if she actually was asleep.

She rolled over on her pillows to see Kitty sitting up on her own pink-silk draped bed across the chamber. The moonlight from the windows, made brighter and more diamond-silvery in the snow, shimmered on the silky hillocks of quilts and Kitty's curling hair.

Do you really think there might be no dancing for Christmas? Kitty said.

She sounded so sad and forlorn that Jane forgot to be irritated at being deprived of her sleep. You heard Allie. We will still have a nice Christmas even without a ball.

I know. And of course you, and Allie and Mama and Gertrude, are the best part of any day. But if we don't get any practice in how to behave at grand balls, how will I... Kitty's voice was so quiet, and she shook her head until her curtain of hair hid her face.

Jane was quite worried now. Kitty was never unsure. Kitty was always running, always dancing, always running. Jane sat up against her pillows, studying her sister's sad face carefully. How will you do what, Kitty darling?

We won't ever find those grand husbands we talked about. My duke, and your scholar. She sat back against her own pillows. Remember what it was like when we were children?

Jane