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A Christmas Promise
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Timeless Regency Collection:
A Christmas Promise
Joanna Barker
Annette Lyon
Jennifer Moore
Copyright © 2020 Mirror Press
E-book edition
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No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. These novels are works of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialog are products of the authors’ imaginations and are not to be construed as real.
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Edited by Kelsey Down, Jennie Stevens, and Lisa Shepherd
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Cover Photo Credit: Stitch Stock Photo and Deposit Photos #91289936
Published by Mirror Press, LLC
A Christmas Promise is a Timeless Romance Anthology® book
Timeless Romance Anthology® is a registered trademark of Mirror Press, LLC
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
A Christmas Promise (Timeless Regency Collection, #16)
Timeless Regency Collections:
Table of Contents
The Two Bells of Christmas | Joanna Barker
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Check out Joanna Barker’s next book!
Promise Me Again | Annette Lyon
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Check out the next novel by Annette Lyon!
A Christmas Journey | Jennifer Moore
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Check out Jennifer Moore’s next book!
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Timeless Regency Collections:
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Spring in Hyde Park
Summer House Party
A Country Christmas
A Season in London
A Holiday in Bath
A Night in Grosvenor Square
Road to Gretna Green
Wedding Wagers
An Evening at Almack’s
A Week in Brighton
To Love a Governess
Widows of Somerset
A Christmas Promise
Table of Contents
The Two Bells of Christmas by Joanna Barker
About Joanna Barker
Promise Me Again by Annette Lyon
About Annette Lyon
A Christmas Journey by Jennifer Moore
About Jennifer Moore
The Two Bells of Christmas
Joanna Barker
Chapter One
Cassandra Bell leaned her head against the cold window, staring out at the bleak and colorless December landscape outside their coach. Well, not colorless, exactly. But the bare trees and dead, dry grass did not inspire any great appreciation for nature at the moment.
A moan came from beside her, and Cassie winced as she turned to her sister. The constant bumping and swaying was enough to make anyone feel ill, but Vivian never traveled well to begin with. She slumped against the side of the coach, eyes glassy and unseeing.
“Are you certain you do not wish to stop?” Cassie asked yet again. Her twin sister’s face was as green as the pea soup they’d eaten at the inn while their horses were changed. Though people often had difficulty telling the sisters apart, Cassie doubted anyone would have that trouble today.
Vivian only shook her head, gripping the bench beneath her so tightly that her hands turned white.
“You must know that stopping to rest an hour will hardly hurt your chances of marriage.” Cassie attempted a bit of humor—she could always make Vivian smile.
But Vivian did not smile. She gulped a breath and shook her head once again. “No, we cannot stop. We must arrive early.”
“Yes, of course,” Cassie said dryly. “Because Roland Hastings will surely fall in love with you the moment he sees you looking like a sailor who hasn’t yet found his sea legs.”
Now Vivian shot her a scowl, though her inability to move without groaning made her infinitely less threatening. “I am certain I will feel better when we arrive at Hartfield Court. But I’ll not stop now and lose any chance of spending time with Mr. Hastings before the other ladies arrive.”
“Ladies? Tabbies might be the better word.”
Vivian’s lips twitched. “They certainly will be desperate to sink their claws into poor Mr. Hastings.”
“I’m certain Mr. Hastings is many things,” Cassie said, “but poor is not one of them.” She did not bother to mention that Vivian was acting increasingly like a tabby herself. She was the one, after all, who insisted on arriving as early as possible for the Christmas house party at the Hastings estate, dragging Cassie with her. Now she was on her way to spend the holiday with a group of near strangers, when she would much rather be at home with Grandpapa.
Vivian sighed. “I only wish I knew what inspired the invitation. Was it solely from his mother, or did Mr. Hastings have a hand in it? I doubt he even remembers me at all.” She pulled the coach blanket tighter around herself. The warm brick the coachman had laid at their feet had gone cold hours ago, and the winter chill had begun to creep inside.
“Of course he remembers you,” Cassie insisted. “He danced with you twice at the Borlands’ ball, and took you in to supper.”
He would be more likely to remember Vivian than Cassie, at least. When Papa had introduced them to Mr. Hastings at the ball, Vivian had been ushered to the forefront, as was normal. Cassie had earned nothing more from the gentleman than a brief bow before he’d taken Vivian off to the dance floor. Her first—and only—impression of the man had not been terribly good.
Vivian had obviously not had the same impression, since she’d been pining after the gentleman since they’d returned from the Season months ago. When the invitation to the house party arrived, it had caused a celebration the likes of which had not been seen since Wellington’s victory at Waterloo.
Vivian looked unconvinced. “I hope you are right, but I am still determined to do what I can to claim his attention. I’ll not leave such a thing as love to chance.”
Cassie raised an eyebrow. Did her sister’s ambitions toward Mr. Hastings truly run so deep? “I think the poets might disagree with that sentiment.”
Vivian flapped her hand feebly as she leaned back. “Oh, you know what I mean. I just think Mr. Hastings will need a bit of encouragement, and I should like to offer it first.”
“You’re more likely to frighten him off than encourage him, the way you’re looking now.”
Vivian sent her a mock glare. “Any slight about my looks is also against yours.”
“Nonsense,” Cassie said with a grin. “Everyone knows I’m the prettier twin.”
Vivian gave a weak laugh, closing her eyes. “Today that is certainly true.”
“Hush now.” Cassie tucked her sister’s blanket against her. “No more jesting. Try and rest.”
Vivian nodded, already half asleep, and Cassie blew out a breath. The next fortnight would be a bore, no doubt, playing her sister’s companion as Vivian attempted to entice a proposal from the ever-elusive Mr. Hastings. The invitation had been for Vivian and their mother, but since Mama had been forced to decline due to a younger sister being only weeks from childbirth, Cassie had been sent as a reluctant replacement.
“Do mind yourself,” Mama had said reproachfully as Cassie bid her farewell yesterday morning. “Your sister’s future depends on this house party, as does yours. If she can make such a conquest as Mr. Roland Hastings, surely you’ll soon attract suitors of your own.”
“Oh yes, because my foremost requirement for a husband is that he marry me for my family connections.”
Mama had not found that particularly funny. “That tongue of yours is precisely why I am uneasy sending you. But as I have no choice, I shall have to hope—nay, pray—you realize behaving yourself is in Vivian’s best interest.”
Cassie had sighed and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I will bite my tongue, Mama. You needn’t worry on my account.”
After all, Cassie hardly planned on bringing any amount of attention to herself during the next fortnight. She would do as she always did during social events: hide when she could and keep her mouth shut when she couldn’t. It wasn’t that she did not like people, or that she was particularly shy. But experience had proven that if Cassie found something interesting or amusing, society generally thought the opposite, and she had learned it was better to keep her thoughts to herself.
Cassie jumped as Vivian suddenly sat up straight beside her, grasping the sides of the swaying coach.
“Viv?” Cassie watched her anxiously. “What is wrong?”
Vivian did not answer. She lurched forward and fumbled with the latch on the window, pulling it open and sticking her head out. Then she expelled the contents of her stomach onto the moving scenery outside.
Cassie moved quickly. She snatched her sister’s curls back to keep them from blowing across her face, the only help she could offer as Vivian heaved again and again, the coach coming to a stop under the oppressive gray sky.
Lovely. They had yet to set one foot inside Hartfield Court, and already this house party was off to an excellent start.
Chapter Two
Roland Hastings leaned forward in the coach as Hartfield finally came into view through the oak trees lining the drive. He didn’t mind London, not really, but his last months there had drained his reserves of patience and energy.
Seeing now the comforting white stone and Grecian columns of his family home in Hampshire brought a relief he hadn’t realized he’d been longing for. At last, some quiet and solitude. And surely Mother had a warm meal waiting for him, even if he had been delayed in London an extra day.
But as they approached the front doors, he spotted an unfamiliar coach already stopped before the steps. That was not surprising in and of itself—his mother was quite popular—though it was late in the day for visitors. What did surprise him was the flurry of activity surrounding the coach as servants unloaded trunks and carried them into the house.
Roland threw open the door and stepped down before the coachman brought the equipage to a complete halt. He scaled the steps and marched inside. “Mother?” he called, tugging off his gloves.
No response, but female voices came from down the corridor. He handed a footman his gloves, greatcoat, and hat, then strode to the sitting room, where he found his mother in deep conversation with the housekeeper. Mother’s dark, graying hair was tucked up inside a mob cap, and she wore a black dress edged in lace. The sight of her made him pause in the doorway. He’d hoped while he’d been gone she might have allowed some gray or lavender back into her wardrobe. But it appeared that a year was still not long enough for her to grieve her husband.
He swallowed hard but stepped forward. “Might I enquire as to whose coach has taken up residence outside?”
Mother looked up, and her eyes brightened. “Roland, you’re home!” She stood and embraced him, the smell of her perfume encircling him in a cloud of jasmine and memories.
He allowed her a moment before pulling back and fixing her with a stern look. “You may try and distract me, but I assure you it will not work.”
“Hush, you’ve been gone for months.” She tugged his jacket straight. “Allow me to fuss over you a bit.”
“Mother . . .”
She stepped back with a sigh and gestured to the housekeeper, who scurried from the room. “Oh, all right. But it is entirely your fault, arriving home late. I’d planned on more time to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“I’ve organized a little house party.” She waved a hand, as if that would dismiss the sinking sensation in Roland’s stomach. “Just a few friends to pass the time until Christmas.”
“Until Christmas?” The disbelief in his voice could not begin to match the dismay inside him. “You mean to tell me I’ve come home anticipating a quiet holiday, and instead I must entertain guests for a fortnight?”
Mama raised her chin. “I’ve been lonely while you’ve been away. You cannot deny me some company.”
“And you could not have had this company while I was gone?”
She swept back to her chair by the crackling fire. “I was certain you would not wish to miss it.”
He gave a short laugh as he ran a hand through his hair. “I think you were certain of the opposite, which is why you did not tell me.”
She offered a pained look. “It is hardly my fault you insisted on being a hermit for the last four months.”
“I am busy. That does not make me a hermit.”
She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I am only trying to broaden your circle of acquaintances. You’ll never meet any ladies of quality if you hole yourself up in your study for weeks on end.”
“Ladies?” Roland raised a finger. “Please do not tell me you invited a horde of young women to this house party.”
She huffed. “A horde? Do not be ridiculous. I only invited three or four, all accomplished and well-bred.”
He nearly threw up his hands. What was she thinking, ambushing him like this? “I am leaving. Going back to London this instant.”
His mother straightened, her severe gaze seizing Roland in a vicelike grip. “You most certainly are not,” she hissed. “I have put up with your nonsense for long enough. First you carouse your way through the Season, and then you abandon me for months on end.”
Roland stepped back. “I haven’t abandoned you. You know I had to see to my investments.”
“All I know is I have been more than patient, but it is high time you took your responsibilities seriously.”
“I have,” he insisted. What did she think he’d been doing all that time in London? “The estate is running smoothly, and if all goes well, the return on my new investments will be more than enough to—”
“Not your financial responsibility.” Mother clasped her hands in her lap. “Your responsibility to provide an heir.”
His mouth went dry. Of course. He exhaled and walked to the window, the panes edged in frost. “I’m not yet thirty, Mother. I hardly see that as shirking my duties.”
“If something does not happen to you.” She leaned forward. “What if you suffered an accid
ent and died? You would leave me alone and penniless, forced to relinquish Hartfield to that odious cousin of yours.”
Roland sighed. “You would not be penniless, Mother. I know what Father left you.”
“That is beside the point. You made a promise, and I intend to make you keep it.”
Roland braced his hands against the windowsill as the memory stole back into his mind. His father lay in bed as Roland clasped his limp hand, his raspy voice insisting that Roland marry and continue the family line. Roland could do nothing but agree. In truth, he’d always known he would marry, so it had seemed an easy thing to promise. That is, until he’d actually made an attempt to find a bride.
“I will marry,” Roland said now, still staring out the window. “I promised, and I will.”
“Then why can’t you see this house party for the opportunity it is?” Mother asked. “I made the invitations very carefully, and I do not think you will find your guests lacking.”
He turned to face her. “Who have you invited?”
A triumphant smile leaped across her face. “Miss Tindale and her mother, of course, since you have always been friends.”
Friends was perhaps a stretch, but it was true Roland did know the young lady better than most, since their fathers had been good friends in life. But he’d never given her more than a second thought as far as marriage was concerned.
“And?” he prompted, moving to the seat beside hers.
“The Marsdens will be attending, and I must tell you, Miss Marsden has grown quite pretty.”
The Marsdens were nearby neighbors, but he couldn’t begin to bring an image of Miss Marsden to mind. Was she the timid one with the brown hair? He likely hadn’t seen her in over a year.
“And the Bell sisters have just arrived, though I admit I hesitated a bit over that invitation.”
Roland looked up. “The Bells? Are they the twins?”
He’d met the Bell family in London last Season and had even danced with Miss Vivian Bell, if he remembered correctly. He had found nothing offensive about her, which was almost unfortunate. He’d hoped to critique his mother’s choice in houseguests.