The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,12

expression as he held out his gift to King. The boy’s eyes were blue, a lighter shade than Livvy’s but the same shape, and with the same golden brown lashes.

“Thank you,” King said, a little taken aback.

“It’s nothing much, but… well, everyone should have a gift at Christmas time.”

King unwrapped the brown paper to find a small painting of a horse. It was well done, the creature’s head finely wrought, though there was something not quite right about the angle of the legs.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Harry, well done,” said a decisive voice.

King looked up to discover Livvy had sat beside him and was looking over his shoulder.

“Isn’t it lovely, my Lord Kingston?” she asked, a note in her voice that suggested he agree with enthusiasm or face the consequences, likely dying a slow and painful death.

King bristled, a little aggrieved she should think him cruel enough to say anything less, but then she didn’t know him at all, and he’d hardly given her any reason to think otherwise. So far, he’d been rude and surly and caused her a great deal of trouble. What a paragon she ought to think him for that. It was a wonder she hadn’t thrown him out.

“It is very well done. You have a good eye,” he said, trying to arrange his features into something approximating a smile. It was remarkably hard to do, as if he’d forgotten how.

“Thank you,” the boy said with a sigh of relief and a look in his eyes that was somewhat daunting.

It appeared perilously close to admiration, though why King could not fathom.

“Here, Livvy, these are for you.” Charlie threw a parcel across the room to Livvy and grinned at her. “I think you’ll find the timing apt.”

King caught the parcel before it hit the ground, as Livvy had made no move to do so. In fact, she’d gone stiff as a board, all but vibrating with tension. King handed her the gift, which she took, though she looked none too pleased about it. How strange. Surely everyone enjoyed being given presents?

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked, curious.

She stared at the parcel for a long moment, as though someone had handed her a dead mouse. He heard her sigh before she opened the paper, and he noticed her hands did not seem entirely steady. Inside was a beautiful pair of silk dancing slippers. They were a deep green, embroidered with gold thread, and King would have laid money on them pleasing any female of his acquaintance. Not Miss Penrose, however. Her jaw was set and she looked positively murderous.

“I believe it is the custom to say thank you,” he murmured, relishing the opportunity to criticise her behaviour for once. It made him feel slightly less of a monster to know she was hardly perfect.

She turned her head and looked him in the eye. “They won’t notice if I throw them directly on the fire. It’s the buying of them they enjoy.”

With that, she stood and stalked out of the room.

King turned, wondering if he ought to make an excuse on her behalf but, sure enough, no one had noticed her leave. Charlie and his lady were all smiles as they passed another gift to one of their children. Too curious to leave well alone, King stood, pausing for a moment until the room stopped spinning, and then followed after Livvy. He found her easily enough, standing by an open door at the back of the house, staring out at the gardens beyond.

“You have a penchant for fresh air that will see you with pneumonia one of these days,” he remarked, noticing the slippers and the wrapping paper thrown down on a nearby chair.

“I’ve never been ill a day in my life,” she retorted, though there was none of the usual acid in her tone. She sounded tired, wistful even, as though the idea of being ill and going to bed was one she longed for.

“You do not care for dancing?”

She gave a huff of laughter and gestured to the wilderness beyond the door, which must once have been a pretty garden. “Shall I cavort with the fairies, my lord?”

“I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if you did. I’ve seen enough goblins these past days not to dismiss the idea. I might even join you.”

He got a smile for that. A proper one. Well, naturally if he discussed his own shortcomings, she would be pleased, the wretch.

Encouraged, he pressed on. “Surely there are assemblies and the like even in