The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,111

you until the end of time, but please, please help me get to Livvy.”

“Just try to stop me,” Walsh replied gamely, though it looked like a gentle breeze could stop him he was swaying so, his complexion the colour of cold porridge. “Trouble is, my lord… we… we got no blunt.”

King paused, horrified to realise Walsh had a point. He hunted about for his coin purse and looked at the pitiful amount remaining to him after buying the presents for the children and giving what he could to Gelly for their keep.

“You?” King asked hopefully.

Walsh shook his head. “Thruppence ha’penny.”

King snatched his hat off his head and flung it to the ground, his fists clenched. He strode away into the garden, fighting for calm. Think, think, man. There must be a way. Whichever way he turned it, he needed money, and he had no way of getting it. Perhaps if he could find a card game somewhere but… Oh, Christ the longer they delayed the farther away Livvy got. He didn’t know what to do and several minutes of frantic pacing did not produce an answer.

King turned back to the house to see everyone had gone back inside. Sick to his stomach with fear and frustration, he followed suit and stalked back to the kitchen. As he walked in, Jane ran up to him clutching a small pewter cup which… which was stuffed full of money.

“W-What…?” he began, staring at them.

“We’ve collected together all our pocket money, sir,” Harry explained, smiling at him. “And Spargo and Gelly put some in too. It’s not much but… is it enough?”

King felt his throat tighten as he looked about their hopeful faces. He glanced at Walsh and saw that he felt it too, the enormity of what this family would give to help him.

“Harry…” King said, his voice thick. “Harry… All of you, this… this is too much. I can’t…”

“Course you can,” Gelly said, banging her fist on the kitchen table so hard Walsh and Spargo looked like they might vomit. “You go and marry that girl. Lord knows she deserves a bit of luck and happiness. You will make her happy, won’t you, my lord?” she demanded, a slightly daunting glint in her eyes.

King nodded.

“Please, King,” Harry said, squeezing his arm. “Livvy needs you. We all need you. Don’t give up now. Take the money and put it to good use. I can’t think of anything better I should want to spend it on.”

“Ah, Harry, lad,” King said, choked now. He pulled Harry into a fierce hug for a moment before straightening again and turning to Walsh. “Come on, Walsh. Chin up. I’ve found a wonderful woman daft enough to fall in love with me. We mustn’t let her get away.”

“Ing! Ing get Libby?” George demanded.

“Yes, George. I’m going to get Livvy.” King turned to his valet who was struggling to his feet. “Aren’t we, Walsh?”

“Right you are, sir,” Walsh said, before turning green, heaving, and running for the back door.

King sighed. They’d go and get Livvy in a few minutes then.

“Oh,” Susan said, staring at King with stars in her eyes. “Isn’t it romantic?”

King smiled at her. He certainly hoped so. He hoped this would be a story they would tell their children and grandchildren, but for now he felt very much like doing as Walsh was doing and throwing his guts up, he was so bloody terrified. They were only hours behind her, he reasoned. She could hardly meet a man and get married before he tracked her down. Her aunt’s party didn’t even start until… when did it start? Come to think of it, where did her aunt even live. He knew it was Bath but…

“What is your aunt’s address, Susan?” he asked her.

“Oh, I have it somewhere,” the girl said, hurrying to a big dresser, packed with china and odds and ends and tugging open a drawer. “Livvy keeps them all in a little book. Yes, here it is.”

King waited while she flicked through the pages. “Ah yes, Aunt Agatha. Dudley House, Somerset Place…”

“Wait…” King’s heart, already bruised from the events of the morning, leapt to his throat and lodged fast. “Did… did you say, Dudley House? Do you mean to say… is she…”

“Oh, Lord,” Walsh said faintly, having just come back into the kitchen and heard what Susan had said too.

“Is your aunt…?” King began.

“Mrs Dudley,” Harry said before Susan could reply, flushing a little. “Yes. She’s been widowed for years of course, but… well, she’s rather