The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,114
room to await Mrs Dudley.
He stared out of the window, heart thudding, wondering if Livvy was here even now. If he might see her at any moment… then a crash sounded. King hurried to the door and stepped out into the huge entrance hall, looking up as movement caught his eye.
Livvy was hurrying down the stairs.
“I thought I heard….”
She paused halfway down, staring at him.
“King?” she said faintly.
“Darling,” he said, rushing to her, taking the stairs two at a time, heedless of who might see. He swept her up into his arms. “Oh, Livvy, how could you do it? How could you leave without saying goodbye?”
“Oh, King,” she sobbed, clutching at his lapels. “I couldn’t bear to say goodbye to you at all, and certainly not in front of everyone. I should have wept all over you and everyone would have known and… and it would have been so embarrassing for you.”
“You silly goose,” he muttered fondly, shaking his head. “If you hadn’t fallen asleep with quite such alacrity, you wouldn’t have left me at all.”
She blinked up at him, blushing a little, and he grinned.
“And I made you such a romantic proposal too. Imagine my chagrin when I discovered you snoring through it.”
Livvy’s mouth dropped open. “Y-You p-proposed?” she stammered.
“I did, and my only response was a snore. It was most provoking, love.”
“Oh! I do not snore,” she said indignantly.
“I beg to differ.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and then her face went all soft and her eyes sparkled. “You did ask me? Truly?”
“If you doubt me. I shall just have to ask you again, won’t I?” King got to one knee, which was dashed awkward as they were halfway up a staircase, but he took her hand and gazed up at the woman he loved with all his heart. “Olivia Penrose, my dearest Livvy, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? And I’d better warn you, love, I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Oh,” Livvy said, blinking rapidly. “Yes! Yes, of course, King. But how can we? Where shall we live, and what about the children? Oh, what about your father? King, he’ll never speak to you again. I cannot make you choose between….”
King was about to retort that there simply wasn’t a choice to make, when the shouting that had continued faintly from somewhere else in the house got a deal louder. A door crashed open and Mrs Dudley stalked out, head held high.
“Agatha. Agatha, darling, please… don’t be like that,” came a man’s pleading voice from behind her. “I can only apologise for my youthful mistakes so many times.”
King stared, mouth open, as his father rushed out of the room in her wake. At least… King thought it was his father, but the Marquess of Eynsham was always immaculate and never so much as raised his voice. This fellow was frantic and dishevelled, his cravat all askew, and he looked like a man who’d been mown down by a woman in a fury.
“Don’t you Agatha darling me,” Mrs Dudley said, rounding on him. “You damned snob. You turned your back on me thirty-five years ago because I wasn’t good enough to marry, and now… and now you think to make your son do the same thing to my niece. Well, I’ll see your name dragged through every scandal sheet in the country before I let that happen, Arthur, and don’t think I wouldn’t.”
“Agatha, I couldn’t marry you,” Lord Eynsham said, pleading for understanding. “You know this. My father would not allow me—”
Agatha’s eyes flashed as she turned on him. “King isn’t asking for your permission, Arthur. You’ve had that poor boy all but beggared, and he’s still not dancing to your tune. He’ll marry the woman he loves, even if you never speak to him again, even if he never sees a penny of your money until you’re cold in your grave. That’s a man in love, my dear.”
“But I was just a boy,” the marquess said, reaching for Agatha and taking her in his arms. “I did not know what I was doing, what I was throwing away. If I had only known, love, I should never have done it. I swear, I would have married you, my father be damned.”
“So you say,” Agatha said, clearly unimpressed by this heartfelt declaration.
“It’s true. I have loved you since we were children. You and you alone, Agatha. My wife and I have never cared for each other; it was an alliance, not a marriage.