The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,69

and set them in water for that night’s dinner to help Gelly out, she had spent some time watching the deluge beyond the window before stirring herself to be more productive. Though it had been some time since they could employ a full staff, it was wash day tomorrow and a couple of laundry maids came up from the village to do the weekly wash. Livvy went in search of Sarah, their one remaining full-time maid, to ensure she had stripped the beds and put clean sheets on. Sarah was loyal, and more importantly cheap, but she was also a feather-brain who would forget what day it was if Livvy didn’t constantly remind her. Relieved to discover Sarah had excelled herself, Livvy praised the girl for her hard work and was on her way to the laundry to check the dirty linen had been correctly sorted when there was a sharp knock at the front door.

Good heavens. What fool would be out and about in this weather? Though as Livvy glanced out the window on the way to the door, she realised the rain had cleared up since last she looked. Still, it was a wet, murky kind of day and best spent indoors. Whoever it was must have been determined indeed. That made her stomach knot, and she almost called for Spargo to open the door instead before scolding herself for being a ninny. She immediately regretted her bravery on coming face-to-face with Mr Skewes.

All the outraged fury she had felt in the haberdashers, when Mrs Cardy had told her she was the subject of local gossip, coalesced into a cold, slimy lump in her belly. It was always like this with Mr Skewes. He always wrong-footed her, as though she’d done something she ought not and as if… as if she were somehow lacking, a disappointment. It was a sensation she resented but could not shake off.

“Mr Skewes,” she said woodenly, remembering she wanted to give the man a piece of her mind, but he had taken her by surprise, and she was unprepared.

“Do you think I might come in?” he said politely, just a slight quirk of his eyebrow indicating that good manners suggested she ought to have invited him by now.

The urge to deny him made her heart skitter with anxiety, but Charlie would be furious if he discovered she’d shut the door in their neighbour’s face, and it wasn’t her house.

Silently, Livvy stood back and allowed Mr Skewes to enter.

“Well, Livvy,” Mr Skewes said. “You have set the cat among the pigeons, but I suppose that was your intention.”

Livvy gaped at him, indignant in the first place that he’d addressed her so informally despite her reminding him before now she had not given him leave to use her Christian name. In the second place… she’d set the cat among the pigeons?

She crossed her arms, mostly so he could not see her hands trembling. Why did this wretched man always make her feel so… so… weak and uncertain? This was why she hated him so, she realised. She never doubted herself, never. Oh, sometimes she took time to determine the best course of action, but she always acted decisively and owned up to her mistakes if she got it wrong. It was better to act than dither, in her view, but this man… this man made her question everything about herself, and she despised him for it.

“If you mean to say it was my intention to ensure everyone knew the truth, then yes, Mr Skewes. I imagine it was.”

Mr Skewes’ mouth tilted up at the corner and Livvy wished for the thousandth time he was not so handsome. He had taken his hat off now to reveal thick hair of a soft brown with lighter shades of gold where the sun had touched it. His jaw was strong and his nose straight, and he was tall and well made. Everyone thought well of him, everyone thought her a crotchety, foolish… petty pert old maid. The words to No One Shall Govern Me came back to her, and she remembered singing it to King. She had wondered what his reaction would be to it, and as ever he had surprised her.

You’re not a fortune hunter, Livvy, and you’re not… not like me. This isn’t for your own pleasure, or even your own security. You’ve a nobler cause, I know that. Don’t think that I don’t.

A nobler cause. King knew what she was doing, and why, but he