The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,16

sorry excuse for a man. His father was a brute and his mother was an icicle, but he was an adult now, not a snivelling boy. So what if his father hated him, so what if the man took a malicious joy in destroying everything King tried to build for himself. He’d been born to privilege, he had education and brain in his head, surely he could have done better. Allowing himself to sink to such depths was pathetic and vile. How had it happened? At what point had he gone from wanting a drink to needing one? He knew the difference between right and wrong—though he often ignored the distinction—but he knew the difference between a good decision and a bad one, too. He had no one to blame but himself for this wretched state of affairs, and now he’d landed his miserable carcass on a family who could hardly look after themselves. What pitiful mess had Boscawen created for them? The man had never had the sense he was born with. It had been no surprise the bullies tormented him so mercilessly. No wonder either that Miss Penrose had been so revolted by King landing in her lap. It was a wonder she hadn’t tossed him out on his arse that first night. Likely she’d tried, but her foolish brother had not allowed it. She had certainly inherited the brains and fortitude her sibling was missing.

The unnerving realisation that he owed Miss Penrose an apology was not a pleasant one, and it nagged at him. In normal circumstances he’d just have a drink and indulge his baser nature until such inconvenient pangs of conscience were drowned out. The desire to do so was tantalising but he could not go back to being that man. He’d become a disgusting, pathetic creature, someone he did not recognise and could only hold in contempt. It was little wonder Miss Penrose agreed with him on that. Worse was the awareness that he needed to stay here. Walsh was right. He needed to keep clear of society if he was to have any hope of keeping himself sober, of kicking this pernicious addiction that had taken a hold of him. Livvy—Miss Penrose—had hidden all the drinks in the house to help him do that.

He supposed he ought to thank her, but he wasn’t feeling quite that charitable yet. He gritted his teeth and made himself remember the devils, demons, and goblins that had hounded him through those terrifying hours when he thought he’d died and gone to hell. Livvy had stayed with him and he’d not deserved her kindness. She certainly did not deserve his loathsome presence in her house. She might be prickly and aggravating but he’d merited little else from her. Very well, he’d thank her and mean it too. Damn her eyes.

As much as the woman infuriated him with her waspish nature, she had dragged him out of the darkness, chased away the devils and the goblins, and she was strong enough to keep him from falling back into the pit. He needed to stay here, with her, until he was recovered and could stand on his own two feet again. It was a lowering realisation. He was a pathetic mess of a man and he had earned her disgust, but he would rally. He would stand tall again, and she would see that he was better than that. Why he felt the need to prove himself to her, he had no idea. Well, no, he had a fine idea. No young woman had ever spoken to him with such contempt. In general, they swooned, they simpered, or they flirted. If they didn’t, he’d been too drunk to notice before now in any case. Being reviled was a new experience, and one he did not enjoy in the least. No. He would show Miss Penrose who he really was, who he had been once, and then she would sing a different song entirely. He had enough self-awareness of his own pride and stubborn nature to know he would be far less likely to fail with her keen blue gaze trained upon him, waiting for him to put a foot wrong. She would expect him to return to his boozing and debauchery at the first opportunity, and she would be smug with disgust when he did. So he wouldn’t. That the idea of failing made him tremble with fear was something he would not think about. He could not fail, could