The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,13

the backend of beyond, like… where the devil are we, anyway?”

“About three miles from Bude, and yes, certainly there are, though they are few and far between.”

He knew better than to poke at her with a stick. She always came back fighting, yet the urge to rile her was undeniable, plus the fact that he wanted to know. “Then why not thank your brother graciously for the thoughtful gift? Why were you so furious your hands were trembling?”

“Are you blind?” she demanded, swinging around to face him. “Have you spent so long in a haze of alcohol and debauchery that you see nothing beyond your own nose? Or do you simply not care?”

“Mostly, I don’t care,” King shot back as irritation got the better of him.

She looked him up and down, an encompassing sweep of those vibrant blue eyes that dismissed him as being good for nothing and made him feel like an awkward youth, a sensation even his father could no longer provoke.

“You astonish me,” she replied in disgust. “And whilst I’m about it, I ought to tell you that you’ll find no liquor in the house, nor wine in the cellar, so don’t bother searching for it. Charlie has never been much of a drinker, and we sold most of the wine years ago. I told him we must remove temptation whilst you remain here. You’ll not find so much of a drop of sherry, so don’t bother looking. It’s all hidden away in a smuggler’s hole and, if the Revenue never found it, you certainly won’t.”

After that lovely bit of information, she turned on her heel.

Furious at her words, and at being dismissed in such a manner, King reached for the shoes.

“Miss Penrose,” he called. She set her shoulders but stopped, turning to face him again. “You forgot your gift.”

She stared at him for a long moment.

“Why don’t you eat them?” she snapped inexplicably.

King watched her go, wondering what the devil she’d meant by that.

Chapter Four

7th December 1818.

A valet returned, too many apologies, dented pride, and the lure of wickedness.

As if the bloody earl hadn’t caused her enough aggravation, it was compounded the next afternoon by the arrival of his blasted valet. To be fair, Mr Walsh seemed a decent sort. It had taken him all this time to track down the earl and follow him, with the man’s belongings in tow. He appeared fiercely loyal to his master, which spoke well of his nature, if not his intelligence. At least the man would see to his master’s clothes. That was something, but it was another mouth to feed. Livvy spent the rest of the day staring down at the household accounts with a knot in her belly. At least she was too miserable to eat, which meant there was more for the children.

She told herself to stop it. They wouldn’t starve. Things were tight, yes, but not desperate. They had a home, a roof over their heads—mostly—and there was enough in the larder to see them through another three months, plus they had the piglets and the lambs, chickens too. The garden was producing reasonably well, and then there was her mad plan to save them all, which would likely do nothing of the sort. All of which was fine and dandy if there were no debts. If Charlie hadn’t done something unbelievably stupid. Stupider.

He would never let her look at his accounts. It was one of the few times he put his foot down as head of the household, except she suspected it wasn’t pride that stopped him from allowing her, but fear. For if she knew how bad things were… no. She would not think that of him. Charlie wouldn’t do that to her. He loved her. He was foolish beyond measure, but he would not ruin them all beyond saving. He would not ruin her with his idiocy. The investments he had made had been ill-advised—what an understatement—but with careful management they could all manage well enough. Livvy put her head in her hands, drew in a deep breath and tried not to remember Christmases past, which had been full of lavish gifts, good food, guests, and parties. Then their parents had died in a boating accident when Charlie was sixteen and she was eight. Though it had been a devastating loss, the presence of their indomitable grandfather had lessened the blow. Gramps had been a huge figure in her childhood, strong as an ox, good-hearted and principled. Everyone had loved and respected