CHAPTER 12
CHRISTMAS EVE MORNING
The following morning in the breakfast parlor
“Good morning, Ritchfield,” Ivy said brightly, appearing on the threshold of the breakfast parlor wearing a festive day gown. Her coppery hair was styled in a riot of curls atop her head while one wavy lock rested over a shoulder.
“Happy Christmas Eve,” Robert said, looking up from a newspaper and then quickly standing. From the few items remaining on his plate, it was apparent he had already eaten. “You were up early this morning,” he added, moving to hold her chair for her.
He had awakened to discover he was alone, although the bed was still warm where her body had been. The reminder of her had his morning tumescence tenting the bed linens longer than usual, so it had been almost a relief when Graves appeared to help him dress.
“I always am on Christmas Eve,” she replied, her grin widening into a smile. “Hanging of the greens.” She watched as he retook his seat. “You were up terribly late last night. I hope all is well?”
Robert leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I was reading in the library,” he said.
Perkins appeared and placed a salver bearing a small teapot, cup, saucer, and sugar-pot before her and refilled Robert’s coffee cup from a pitcher already on the table.
“What has Clara made this morning?” Ivy asked turning her attention on the servant.
“Almost anything you want, my lady,” he replied. “She cooked a feast for us servants this morn.”
“Then I’ll have toast, coddled eggs, and bacon,” she said.
“I’ll bring them right away, my lady.” He turned to Robert. “Would you like anything else, my lord?”
Robert unfolded his arms and straightened in his chair. “I’d like an orange,” he said.
Perkins’ eyes rounded. “Yes, my lord.”
From the other side of the table, Ivy blinked. “Those are supposed to be for later,” she scolded.
“I heard you brought an entire crate of them with you,” he countered.
She grinned. “I did. Two of them.”
“And that I’ll be receiving an invoice for them,” he added, smirking.
Tittering, Ivy prepared her tea. “This is one of my favorite days of the year,” she said. “I adore how everything looks when we finish with all the greenery. So festive. And the entire house smells so good for an entire fortnight,” she gushed.
“I thought I smelled pine when Graves opened my door this morning,” he murmured.
“I’m sure you did if the servants have started bringing them in,” she said with excitement. “The Yule log, too,” she added, her eyes widening at seeing the breakfast Perkins set before her. “Oh, it’s a veritable feast.”
“As was mine,” Robert remarked.
“Will you help with the greenery?” she asked, before taking a sip of tea. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can have an early dinner and begin the dancing in the great hall.”
Robert angled his head to one side as he watched her tuck into her breakfast. “Dancing?” he repeated.
“You don’t have to dance, but the servants will want to. This is one of those festive evenings,” she insisted.
“I thought that was supposed to be the Twelfth Night,” he said in confusion.
“It is, darling, but we celebrate Christmas Eve here as well,” she explained.
His eyes widened when Perkins set a peeled orange before him, the sections splayed out to make it look as if it was a flower with orange petals. “If there’s dancing, then who provides the music?” he asked, using a fork to retrieve one of the orange sections.
She lifted a shoulder. “Well, I’ll play the piano-forté and Mr. Ashton, the groom, will play his violin,” she replied. When he simply stared at her, she sighed softly. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” she teased.
