The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,93
snivelled. “Stop, for heaven’s sake. I have become the most dreadful watering pot of late.”
Walsh silently handed her a handkerchief. Livvy snatched it from him and buried her face in it until she was calm again.
“You love him,” Walsh observed.
“Oh, of course I’m in love with him,” she said irritably, flapping the handkerchief at him. “Do stop stating the obvious. Not that it does anyone the least bit of good for I c-can’t have him, can I?”
Walsh sighed, scowling, and looking remarkably fierce. “There must be a way. Bleedin’ hell! Beg pardon, excuse my French.”
Livvy snorted. “Don’t mind me. Believe me, I’ve uttered a few choice words on the subject.”
The valet gave her an approving smile. “Reckon you did an’ all, Miss. Oh, and I shall get to work on your little project tomorrow if I might borrow some writing materials. I’ve a good few people in mind who ought to come in handy.”
“Thank you, Walsh. That… That is marvellous, and so kind, and I shall ensure you are compensated for your help too.”
Walsh waved this off, shaking his head. “Tis a pleasure to help you, Miss. It is truly.”
“Oh, don’t be nice,” Livvy begged, her throat thick. “You’ll start me off again.”
“Sorry, Miss.”
They stood in awkward silence for a moment until Livvy sighed. “So, he will not come out and face me then?” she said, putting her chin up.
“Don’t reckon so, Miss, but don’t give up. Between us… surely we can think of something.”
“If you have a way of turning pineapples into solid gold, I’m all ears,” Livvy remarked bitterly, and then turned on her heel and stalked back down the corridor.
“Is she gone?” King asked as Walsh returned to his room.
Walsh glowered at him but said nothing.
“Oh, I see,” King said, folding his arms. “I’m the monster for keeping an innocent out of my bed. Good to know. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Nothing new there, I suppose.”
“Keep your hair on,” Walsh said, tutting. “I know you’re doing the right thing it’s only… ah well. I wish you’d just marry the girl. You’ll never meet another like her, and you know it. Don’t let her get away, my lord.”
“Tell me how,” King growled, frustration and longing making him angry now. “For the love of god, give me something solid, something real, not dreams and fairy tales and you’ll figure something out. Give me a plan, Walsh, something I can do.”
Walsh stared back at him, shoulders hunched.
“No, I didn’t think so,” King replied with a cynical twist to his lips. “Then keep your bloody mouth shut.”
King gritted his teeth, his jaw so tight it hurt. He ought not have spoken to Walsh so, ought not have been so bloody rude, but he couldn’t stand it. The days were rushing past. It would be Christmas soon, and then Livvy would leave. She’d go off to her aunt’s party and be lost to him for good. He’d go back to Wynford Castle, where only poor Argos would be pleased to see him, to keep him company in the vast echoing expanse of the crumbling estate. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to breathe, but his lungs were tight. I am not drinking, he reminded himself. I am not drinking. I. Am. Not. Drinking. A hand rested on his shoulder for a moment, a silent show of understanding, before Walsh moved away again.
King looked out the window the next morning to see Charlie had returned. He must have got the driver to push on through the night to have arrived so early. Was that bad news or good news, or just a desperate need to be home? King would do such a thing if Livvy were waiting for him. He pushed the thought away and hurried downstairs. He needed to have a frank discussion with Charlie, and he may as well get it over with.
On reaching the entrance hall, he almost collided with Livvy, holding onto her arm to steady her.
“Good morning,” he said, testing the waters to see what mood she was in after last night’s foiling of her plans. He doubted she was thrilled with him.
“My lord,” she said with a pleasant smile, confirming that she was planning his imminent demise.
“Livvy,” he said, his tone low, but she stalked past him, nose in the air to greet her brother.
King hurried out of the door in her wake, pleased for her it was a bright sunny day. That at least ought to