The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,83

in him for grasping it so quickly.

“Yes.”

“Want see Argos,” George said, reaching out and grasping King’s hand. “Morrow, we go? See Argos?”

Oh, dear. Livvy watched King, watched the way his broad shoulders slumped, and he shook his head, the picture of misery.

“Ing?”

“No, George. Not… Not tomorrow. My home is a long way away.”

Livvy’s heart clenched. There was too much emotion behind the words, sorrow and longing and… oh, King.

“’Nother day?” George asked, such a plaintive question that Livvy wanted to cry, for him and for King. Oh, why was life so bloody cruel?

“We’ll see,” King said, a catch in his voice that made tears prick at Livvy’s eyes. They both knew it would never happen. “We’ll see.”

Livvy cleared her throat and bustled into the room.

“Oh, George, you’ve fetched King. I was down in the kitchens getting you some warm milk. Here you are.”

Livvy sat down on the other side of the bed as King got to his feet.

“I’ll… er….” he said awkwardly, waving at the door.

“Oh, there’s no need,” Livvy said at once, hoping to make him stay.

King made a low sound of disgust. “Yes, there is. Night night, George. Goodnight, Miss Penrose. I shall see you both in the morning.”

Livvy sighed as she watched King go, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Ing, got big gog, Libby,” George said. “I like Ing.”

“Yes,” Livvy said, stroking George’s hair as he sipped his milk. “I like King too.”

King did not sleep, tormented by the scent of Livvy on his sheets and the memory of her warm skin against his. He forced the images away, self-loathing for his actions giving him the strength to think of other things, for short periods anyway. Then the hopelessness of his life would stir the desire to get himself a bloody drink, and he’d grasp hold of anything that would distract him. Naturally, he ended up thinking of Livvy again as his heart ached in his chest and he went full circle, over and again. Sometime after dawn he fell into a fitful sleep and then woke with a jolt of alarm as a tremendous crash echoed through the house.

“Bloody hell!”

He scrambled out of bed, gritty eyed and stiff and slung on his clothes in a haphazard fashion that would give Walsh a nervous collapse when he saw. Surely, though, there had been some manner of disaster? The roof falling in, a wall coming down? Oh, God, the children!

King bolted for the door as he heard a female scream and ran pell mell down the corridor only to come up short as he discovered Ceci at the top of the stairs with her head in her hands, weeping.

“What is it?” he demanded, so terrified he could hardly get the words out. “Are you hurt? Is it the children? What…?”

Ceci pointed a trembling hand towards the bottom of the stairs and King turned his unwilling eyes in that direction, expecting to see a crumpled body. There she was, little Jane in a tumble of skirts and petticoats, laying in a heap.

“Oh, God. No!” King cried, taking the stairs two at a time but not getting to the poor child before Livvy.

King stared at her, helpless, wanting to save her from the pain, to shield her from….

“Jane Penrose, you little devil!” Livvy said, clearly extremely cross as she hauled Jane to her feet. “How many times have I told you that our best silver tray is not a toboggan!”

“Oh, they’ll be the death of me,” Ceci wailed from the top of the stairs. “My poor heart! I thought she was dead.”

The child’s mother put her head in her hands and wailed. For once, King thought she had a point. His heart was still hammering in his ears and he felt sick.

“There, see?” Livvy said, pointing past King to Ceci. “You’ve made your poor mama cry, not to mention giving Lord Kingston a terrible fright. Oh, and, Jane… Oh… oh, Jane….”

Livvy paused as her gaze landed on the silver tray. King watched, truly horrified this time as Livvy pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying not to cry.

He saw what she saw. A family heirloom, no doubt, but something that had been beautiful, and valuable, and was now scratched and dented and… well, there was still the price of the silver to be had but… Oh, Livvy. His heart ached, not knowing who to comfort first. Jane did not understand perhaps the full extent of what she had done, but seeing her indomitable auntie struggling not to cry was clearly