The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,48

figured out what the hell it was that terrified him. He had a feeling knowing the answer would only make the situation increasingly dire.

So… he ran away.

Chapter Ten

10th December 1818.

One highly strung earl, a devious valet, and a gateway to fairyland.

Livvy watched King go with a frown. There was something about him that made her think of the children when they were hiding something. They knew they’d not be able to keep her from finding out eventually...so they ran away. He certainly had the look of a man running away. It had been the same when he’d kissed her, the sense that he was deflecting her attention. Not that she was complaining. It had been the most marvellous kiss. It lingered even now, the taste of him upon her lips, the warmth of his body against hers. Oh. She was all light and fluffy and floaty, like a billowy cloud. Before meeting King, she had never understood how any woman could be foolish enough to get themselves into difficulties with a man who was quite obviously trouble. Indeed, King was so obviously trouble he might as well have the word stencilled across his forehead in capital letters. She suspected it would in no way diminish his charm and women would continue to throw themselves at his feet. Not, she told herself firmly, that she had done anything of the sort.

After all, he had kissed her. Rather abruptly, it was true. Livvy frowned, considering that. What had she been saying that had set him off? Something about admiring his efforts to remain sober, if she remembered rightly, though remembering was more difficult than she liked to acknowledge, but really… that kiss. It was a wonder she was still standing, let alone had any grip remaining on her faculties.

She made her way back to the breakfast parlour, considering the Earl of Kingston as she went. It occurred to her that he was rather highly strung. He was clearly the kind of fellow who lived on his nerves and did not understand how to deal with emotional situations, so ran away before they bothered him too deeply, a man who needed reassurance at regular intervals, though he’d rather die than admit it, let alone ask for it. From the little she knew of his father, the Marquess of Eynsham—and that only what Charlie had told her—she very much doubted he’d ever had anything resembling reassurance or comfort of any kind. Livvy pondered this as she returned to the children, relieved to find that nothing had been broken or upset in her absence.

She sent them off to complete their various jobs, and Susan took Birdie off to change her clout, leaving Livvy with George.

“I think we’d best send King some breakfast up, George. The poor man didn’t eat a thing between Harry’s cravats and your performance.”

George chuckled and reached out to tug on her skirts. “Libby Lib Lib.”

“Hmmm, you may well Libby me, you little monster. You knew that was a naughty word, didn’t you?”

George gave her a beaming smile of such innocent joy she could not help but bend and kiss his nose.

“Libby, Libby. Want gog.”

“We don’t have a dog, George, my sweet.”

George huffed and tugged on her skirts again.

“No gog?”

“No dog,” she said, making up a tray to send up to King with his favourite blackberry jam on.

“Libby. Ing?”

Livvy turned to look at him. “What, darling?”

“Ing?”

She blinked. “Do… do you mean King?”

“Es. Where is Ing?”

For some inexplicable reason, Livvy felt a tightening in her throat.

“Silly goose,” she muttered to herself. “I think King has gone for a lie down. He’s not feeling quite himself, but you’ll see him later. Why don’t we go and see Gelly?”

George put his arms up in the air, a demand to be lifted into her arms. “Gelly, cake!”

Livvy laughed and picked George up, heedless of his jammy hands on her frock. He could hardly make it worse at this stage. “You’ve just had breakfast.”

George clutched her about the neck and gave her a sticky, blackberry flavoured kiss. “Cake!”

“Oh, very well. Let’s go and see what we can find.”

Unsurprisingly, Ceci made herself and Charlie late by dithering over what to wear, but finally her husband ushered her out of the house. Birdie and George were taking a nap, Harry was reading and listening out in case they woke, and the girls were cutting pictures out of the latest fashion prints to stick on their walls. Free at last, Livvy went to find King, and bumped into Walsh on