by Quinn, Paula
Though she couldn’t hear a word being spoken, she watched, fascinated, as the lady sitting down turned the pages. Her face was so animated as she read aloud. Lucy wished someone would read aloud to her. Maybe if Mama hadn’t died, she would’ve read to Lucy.
The lady finished and the children and adults all clapped. Lucy turned away, hungry and feeling lonely. She’d found a few scraps in the trash the night before but her stomach cramped now. Though she knew it was wrong, she wished she knew how to pick a pocket and take just a little bit of money from someone. She’d never done it before and was afraid what would happen to her if she got caught. She wandered down the street and through alleys, picking her way through garbage, finding a few bites here and there. Somehow, she found herself back at the book place again and saw Luke and his family come out of it. They got into a nice carriage and pulled away from the curb. She turned away, sadness washing over her. She would never ride in style like that. Never own a book or wear a pretty dress, no matter how hard she wished.
Lucy walked away, letting the crowd swallow her up, tears streaming down her face.
*
Luke tied Caroline’s cloak about her neck and handed her the muff. She slid her hands inside it and he took her arm.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “It’s very cold outside tonight.”
“I’m dressed warmly, darling. And there’s a little girl out there who is cold—and needs us.”
He nodded and opened the front door of the townhome and they set out toward Evie’s. Caroline had insisted they walk, saying it would be easier to spy the girl if they weren’t moving so quickly.
As they turned the corner and crossed the street, he said, “She may not come back. We may be on a fruitless mission and not find her at all.”
“You said you found her gazing into the window last night. And you saw her again today. She’ll be there, Luke. If she isn’t, we’ll come back tomorrow during the day and tomorrow night.”
“We can’t come back every day, Caroline. We’ve got to return home. I’ve business to attend to before we leave for Edgemere and our holiday celebration.”
She smiled at him. “Then we’ll find her before we leave. I know it.”
Bolstered by her calm confidence, Luke led Caroline toward Evie’s, glancing in doorways and across the street as they strolled. They rounded the corner and he halted in his tracks.
“Is that her?” his wife asked.
“Yes,” he said quietly. Afraid she would hear them. Fearing she would run again. Would he chase her down? If he did, would that terrify her? He prayed the girl would not flee, especially seeing he was with his wife and no threat.
As before, she had her nose and palms pressed to the glass of the window, her focus on the books within. They approached without conversing but as they drew near, he called out a soft greeting so as not to startle the child.
“Hello, again.”
The girl jumped back, looking from him to Caroline, alert and watchful, poised on the balls of her feet as if she were ready to spring away at any moment.
“We met last night. I’m Luke and this is my wife, Caroline. Remember, I told you she owns this bookstore and the tearoom.”
The child nodded cautiously. She looked bedraggled now and he knew it was because she’d spent the night out on the streets. Her cloak was filthy. A smudge of dirt rested against her cheek. The neatly braided hair was coming loose. Something had happened. Wherever she usually stayed, she hadn’t gone there last evening. He supposed she’d been out in the elements ever since he’d seen her the previous night and a lump formed in his throat.
“Hello,” Caroline said, her musical voice low and inviting. “My husband told me about meeting you last night and that you like books. What is your name?”
“Lucy.”
Luke noticed she gave no last name and wondered if she even knew what it was.
“Do you live around here?” Caroline asked.
Lucy shrugged.
“Are you hungry?”
A violent shiver shook the child and it took all he had not to gather her in his arms and warm her.
She nodded.
“Well, I think we can go inside and find something for you to eat in the tearoom. Maybe a scone or some biscuits?” Caroline asked.
She pulled away from him and moved slowly toward Lucy, pulling her hands from the muff and offering it to the girl. “Here, put your hands inside to warm them up. It will be hard to hold a macaroon if your fingers are cold.”
Warily, Lucy accepted the muff and jammed her tiny hands inside. Surprise filled her face.
“It’s so soft,” she exclaimed in wonder.
“It is,” Caroline agreed, slipping an arm about the girl and leading her to the door.
Luke quickly produced the key and admitted them to the bookstore. He ushered them toward the arch but then backed off, allowing Lucy to glance at the books as they passed. He exchanged a look with his wife and saw that her heart had also been touched by the too-thin waif.
Leading them to a table after they crossed into the tearoom, he said, “Why don’t the two of you sit here and I’ll make some hot chocolate and find what Mrs. Stinch and Mrs. Baker have left.”
He thought it best to leave Lucy in his wife’s company, thinking the girl might be more comfortable with a woman. He was no stranger to a kitchen, having spent hours with the two bakers in this very kitchen, helping to prepare and sample items to place on the tearoom’s menu.
He put on a kettle to boil and rounded up several sweets before making a sandwich. By then, the water boiled and he mixed in the chocolate. Placing the food on a plate, he set it and the cup and saucer on a tray and delivered it to the homeless child.
She looked at the cup with interest. “What’s this?”
“This, is hot chocolate. And it’s heavenly, I can promise you that. Be careful and only sip it, though. It’s quite hot.”
Lucy took a small sip and sighed. She took a macaroon and ate it. Before they knew it, she began devouring everything on the plate, making quick work of the meal, taking sips of the chocolate to wash it down as she went.
Caroline leaned over and whispered, “She reminds me of Cynthia.”
Cynthia had been Caroline’s only sister. The two had been close until Cynthia’s death many years ago.
A long look passed between them, understanding only the closest of married couples shared. Luke couldn’t save the whole world.
But he and Caroline could save one precious life.
He excused himself and returned to retrieve a book before joining them again. Sitting, he handed the book to Lucy.
“This is The Kind Caterpillar’s Christmas. It was written by my sister-in-law, the Duchess of Everton. It’s yours, Lucy. Forever and ever.”
The girl gazed at it in wonder, her hand stroking the book as if it weren’t quite real.
“Did she read it to the children today?”
Luke realized Lucy must have peered into the windows while the reading occurred.
“She did. The duchess writes all kinds of wonderful books for children and when they are ready for sale, she comes to Evie’s Bookstore and reads them to others.”
Lucy gripped the book tightly. “I saw her. She’s very beautiful.” She looked up from the book to Caroline. “You’re beautiful, too.”
“Thank you,” his wife said, her gaze tender as she looked at Lucy.
“Where is your home, Lucy?” Luke asked quietly.
The little girl’s face tightened. “I don’t have one anymore. The street is my home.”
He strained to keep the shock of her words from registering on his face. It was one thing to suspect it and another to hear his suspicions confirmed. “Do your parents live on the streets with you?” he asked carefully.
“No. Mama died after the baby was born. He died, too.” Her bottom lip quivered. She hugged the book tightly to her.
“And your papa?”
Lucy shrugged.
<
br /> “You can tell us,” Caroline said, slipping her hand around the girl’s tiny one.
“Papa sold me. He didn’t want me anymore. I saw him in an alley later. He was dead.”
Luke’s gut tightened in anger, knowing what that meant. Anger surged within him, thinking of grown men taking a piece of this child’s innocence from her over and over.
“My new papa, Driskell, taught me to work the streets.” She glanced up at him. “Do you know what a pickpocket is?”
“I do,” he assured her, comprehending that this child had been utilized as a thief and not one used by vile men for other purposes.
She smiled at him sadly, placing the book on the table. “I know stealing’s wrong but my new papa said I had to help Jem do the work. So I would cry and act lost and people would stop to help me. That’s when Jem would pick the mark’s pocket.”
“How long have you and Jem worked for your new papa?” Caroline asked.
“I came last Christmas. Jem . . . Jem’s dead now. He got run over yesterday.” Tears began streaming down Lucy’s face. “I couldn’t do it anymore. With Jem gone, I didn’t want to go work upstairs. Jem said bad things happen to the girls upstairs. I think that’s where Driskell wanted to take me. I didn’t want to go there.”
Lucy began sobbing violently. Luke scooped her up and placed her on his lap, his arms enfolding her. He wanted to protect her from all she’d witnessed. Caroline stood and stroked the girl’s hair, murmuring soothing words. He slipped his hand around Lucy’s and she eventually cried herself out.
“Do you have anywhere left to go, Lucy? Any family at all?” he asked.
When she looked up at him, she shook her head. “No.” The whispered word hung in the air.
Caroline’s hand squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.
“Then you’ll come home with us,” he told the orphan.
An array of emotions crossed the young’s girl’s face. Fear. Excitement. Frustration.
And hope.
“I can help in the kitchen,” she said eagerly. “I’m strong. I can carry things. I learn fast. Driskell said so. Maybe I could learn to be a maid when I’m bigger. Or help—”
Luke cradled the girl’s face. “We don’t want you to come as our servant, Lucy.”
Her face fell. She wriggled away, sliding from his lap. Once again, a mask slipped over her features, making her appear far older than her years. She picked up the book and handed it back to him.
“I can’t take this.”
Lucy turned and began walking away on shaky legs.
“Wait,” Caroline called out.
Luke held his breath as the girl turned, eyeing them with suspicion.
“We don’t want you as a servant, Lucy,” Luke gently explained. “We want you as our daughter.”
Shock rippled through the child, visibly jarring her. She began quivering from head to toe. Caroline closed the gap between them, dropping to her knees and wrapping Lucy in her arms.
“I know it’s hard to trust, Lucy, but I’m asking you to trust us,” his wife said.
“But I saw you,” the girl said. “You have other children. You don’t need me. I’m . . . nobody.”
Her declaration angered Luke and yet touched him deeply at the same time. He joined the two, kneeling beside them.
“You are somebody to us, Lucy. We have enough love in our hearts for another child. We may even have more someday. Right now, though, we hope you’ll want to come home with us and be our little girl. Be a sister to the other children we already have and to those that may follow. What do you say, Lucy? Would you like to be a St. Clair?”
The young girl hesitated a moment and then whispered, “Yes.” She threw her arms around Caroline and then Luke, saying yes over and over.
Luke rose and then helped Caroline to her feet. Laughing, he picked up Lucy and twirled about with her in his arms. Joy filled the child’s face and she joined in his laughter. Her laugh sounded rusty, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time. He promised himself he would make Lucy laugh every day from this one until the last he spent with her. That he would make her believe in life and love.
“You’ll be a part of our family forever and ever,” he told her, reaching for the book and returning it to her. “Christmas isn’t the only time to be kind, just as Catherine’s book says. We must be kind to each other every day.”
Lucy hugged the book to her chest and grew thoughtful. “Do I call you Luke?”
“No,” he said firmly. “I am Papa and Caroline is Mama. And you are our darling Lucy.”
With that, he slipped an arm about his wife’s waist and they left Evie’s Bookstore. He gave Caroline the keys to lock up, not wanting to set his precious Lucy down for even a moment. His children would be surprised with a new addition to their family but Luke knew they would grow to love Lucy as he and Caroline already did.
Luke glanced up into the night. A myriad of stars were scattered across the sky, shining brightly down on London. Caroline slipped her arm through his and they walked down the street, his arms secure about his newest daughter. Lucy relaxed and fell asleep, her soft breath coming evenly.
“Christmas will be upon us soon and a new year will follow,” he told Caroline. “A new life for Lucy St. Clair—and us.”
He paused and gazed down at his wife and kissed her tenderly. “Thank you,” he said. “For having enough love in your heart.”
“Thank you for finding Lucy,” she said. “We are so fortunate, Luke. So blessed. I can’t wait to share her with all of the St. Clairs and show her just how powerful love can be.”
Luke kissed Caroline again. “Once we get Lucy settled tonight, do you think we might find time to read another chapter in our special book?”
Caroline’s smile shone as bright as the stars that looked down upon them.
“We can do more than read, Luke,” she said, mischief in her eyes.
“I was hoping you would say that,” he replied.
THE END
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
King’s Cousins Series
The Pawn
The Heir
The Bastard
Knights of Honor Series
Word of Honor
Marked by Honor
Code of Honor
Journey to Honor
Heart of Honor
Bold in Honor
Love and Honor
Gift of Honor
Path to Honor
Return to Honor
The St. Clairs Series
Devoted to the Duke
Midnight with the Marquess
Embracing the Earl
Defending the Duke
About the Author
Award-winning and international bestselling author Alexa Aston’s historical romances use history as a backdrop to place her characters in extraordinary circumstances, where their intense desire for one another grows into the treasured gift of love.
She is the author of Medieval and Regency romance, including The Knights of Honor, The King’s Cousins, The St Clairs, and The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle.
A native Texan, Alexa lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She enjoys reading, Netflix binge-watching, and can’t get enough of Survivor, The Crown, or Game of Thrones.
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One Beastly Christmas
Sydney Jane Baily
Dedicated to those who enjoy the wonder of Christmas
including my children, Jasper and Pandora.
Chapter One
Christmas Eve, Sheffield, England, 1850
The snowdrifts were high and getting higher. Jenny Devere, Lady Lindsey, could not keep herself from standing by the mullioned windows
in her front parlor and staring into the gathering twilight, keeping one hand pressed to her aching lower back. Without climbing the staircase in the front hall, this room had the best view of the expansive drive along which she hoped to see a carriage appear at any moment. Her sister, Maggie, along with her husband and baby should have arrived days earlier.
Her other hand clutched the heavy drapes, while she rested her forehead on a chilled pane of glass. When the cold against her skin became almost painful, she drew back and saw her reflection—light-brown hair in a braided bun and brown eyes, the same color as her sisters. Also, reflected clearly in the mirrored pane was the grand room behind her, looking exquisite in its holiday finery.
Belton Manor, the home she shared with her husband, Simon, was decorated over every inch, each railing and baluster, each window in every room, and even all three sparkling chandeliers in the dining room held mistletoe and holly boughs and red ribbons. In the great room, where they held balls and occasionally concerts, there was a massive evergreen soaring to the ceiling plaster, exactly as there used to be when Simon was a young boy and when Jenny and her family would visit the previous earl and his wife.
They had placed candles on the branches in the German tradition and, along with Jenny’s mother, Lady Blackwood, and her youngest sister, Eleanor, Jenny had decorated the tree with candies in baskets, fancy cakes hung by ribbons, colorful paper chains, glass baubles, and tin ornaments. Her absolute favorite decorations were the gilded walnuts tied to the tree with red and gold ribbons. Her patient husband had even climbed a ladder to decorate the top-most branches, rather than risk their butler’s health. As directed, Simon had put a small wooden angel with real feathered wings at the pinnacle.
Everything was ready except for the upsetting lack of Jenny’s middle sister, Maggie, and her family. Luckily, her mother and younger sister had encountered no trouble reaching Belton Manor by sleigh the previous day as they lived a mere mile away at Norman’s Corner. Maggie, on the other hand was coming from a hundred miles away in Bedfordshire.
