The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,85
“Come now, my lady. No one was hurt and Jane is sorry for giving you such a horrid scare, but poor Birdie is frightened by all the upset and needs her mama.”
“Oh,” Ceci said, wiping her cheeks. “My poor baby.”
She cried much more prettily than Livvy it had to be said, but then Livvy only cried when she was feeling defeated, and very little defeated Olivia Penrose. She didn’t cry over trifles like he suspected Ceci did, and so she could not disguise the depths of her misery. Her tears were ugly because the emotion was so heartfelt, so raw that there was no hiding it.
King escorted Ceci back to her room with Birdie and promised that her ladyship’s smelling salts, and a good hot cup of tea were coming soon and so she wasn’t to upset herself further. This suggestion, given with King’s most solicitous tone, seemed to go a long way to calming her and the lady settled in a chair with Birdie who was now all smiles for her pretty mama and the crisis appeared to have been averted. Here, at least.
King closed the door and hurried back to Livvy, uncertain whether he was relieved or alarmed to discover she hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Come now, love,” he said, taking her by the arm and guiding her back up the stairs. Though he had promised himself to stay away from her, she was in no fit state to be by herself and everyone else was occupied. King took her to her room and began undoing the ties on her clothes. That at least got her attention. Her cheeks flushed, and she lifted her gaze to his, her expression one of such naked longing that King’s heart stuttered.
“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Please, don’t. I cannot, but you must get out of these wet things before you catch your death.”
He moved behind her, undoing everything he could see and then retreating to the door.
“Get changed, Livvy,” he said, keeping his voice firm and no nonsense because the slightest quaver was going to spell ruin for them both. “I’ll be right outside. Let me know when you’re decent.”
He turned to leave before thinking better of it and adding.
“And I do mean decent. No… No tricks, love, I beg you. I… Not today, please.”
She looked away from him, the light in her eyes dying, but she nodded listlessly. Oh God. King felt like a brute for walking away from her, but he reminded himself it was for her own sake. Poor Livvy was all about in her head, to be looking at him in such a way. Him, of all people. He was saving her from herself. He must remember that.
King leaned back against the wall outside Livvy’s door, frowning down at his boots.
“Is Livvy all right?”
He looked up to see Harry regarding him anxiously. King straightened, aware that it was extremely inappropriate for him to be here. Not that Harry seemed to have registered that King ought to be nowhere near his maiden aunt’s bedroom.
“A bit worn out, I think,” King said with a smile. “I’ve only been here a few weeks and I feel like I might suffer a nervous collapse. Your poor aunt has been doing it for years.”
Harry’s expression grew serious, and he nodded. “Father has made a dreadful mess of things, hasn’t he?”
King hesitated, unwilling to say anything less than complimentary about the boy’s father, and worried that if he began, he might let his tongue run away with him.
The boy snorted and shook his head. “It’s all right. I’m not a child. There have been times this past year I’ve felt more of a grown-up than Papa, to be honest. I mean, don’t misunderstand me, he’s a wonderful father, he truly is. I’ve always felt that. He’s such fun, or at least… he used to be before the money troubles got so bad. We used to play games, and everyone was always laughing, well, except for Livvy the past year or so, but then she saw what was happening before we did.”
King didn’t know what to say. He had long thought Harry was an exceptional young man, kind-hearted and serious, but with a sense of humour too. He looked after his siblings, even when they drove him to distraction, and did his best to be the man of the house.
“Livvy should have been in charge of the estate,” Harry went on. “She’s always been far cleverer than Papa. He knows it too, only….”