The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,98

well what Walsh was up to.

“Think you can live with that?”

“Damn it, Walsh, that will do.” King knocked Walsh’s hand aside and reached for his coat, shrugging it on without help. “What the devil do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll not be such a damn fool and let her go,” Walsh said stubbornly.

“How can I not?” King said, opening his arms out in a look at me gesture. “This is all I can offer her. A bloody drunkard with nothing but a crumbling castle he can’t afford to live in. I have no friends, my parents can’t bear to look at me, I’ve wasted my bloody life…”

“You do have friends,” Walsh retorted. “These people are your friends, and Miss Penrose isn’t some fragile flower what needs protecting. She’s a worker, and she’s used to scrimping and saving. She wouldn’t turn a hair.”

“But she ought not have to scrimp and save, for the love of god!” King raged. “She deserves better, far better. Better than me, that’s for good and certain.”

“Perhaps,” Walsh said, shaking his head. “But does she want better? You ever thought to ask her?”

King shook his head. “She’s had her head turned by the first fellow to show her any notice, that’s all. Once she’s out in the world…”

Walsh made an angry sound and stalked to the door. “So, you’re saying she don’t know her own mind, right?”

“Women are easy,” King said dully, trying to make himself believe that was all it was. “You know that. A handsome face and few pretty compliments… putty in my hands, Walsh. It’s not like you haven’t seen it a hundred times before.”

“Not like this,” Walsh growled, glaring at him. “Nothing like this and you know it.”

King shrugged and Walsh left the room, slamming the door behind him.

For a long moment, King stood, staring out of the window. It was a beautifully sunny, frosty morning, and he hoped Mr Moyles had tucked the pineapples up nice and warm last night. Today they were going to cut greenery to decorate the house for Christmas. The children were excited and Livvy had been busy in the kitchens, helping Gelly prepare for the feast.

Don’t be maudlin, he scolded himself. The children were going to have a wonderful Christmas. He’d promised Livvy he would help her ensure that and… and so he would. So he plastered a smile onto his face and tried to ignore the pain in his chest that was growing steadily with every minute that passed. He would survive. They would both survive. They would move on and go back to their lives and… and everything would be just fine. It would.

Oh, God.

Livvy crouched on the floor, doing the buttons up on George’s coat before winding a thick scarf around his neck and pulling on his hat, next mittens. Once everything was properly covered, she stood straight again.

“There,” she said.

“Good heavens, the poor child looks like a starfish.”

Livvy turned, her heart doing its usual little dance in her chest at the sound of King’s voice. “It’s cold out.”

“Yes, but he can’t move. George, are you in there?” King demanded, crouching down to inspect the child.

There was a muffled sound and King tsked, moving the scarf so it no longer covered George’s mouth.

“Ah, there he is,” King said.

“’Ot,” George said plaintively. “Too ’ot!”

“I’m not surprised, my lad. No wonder you’re always undressing. Well come along, it’s cooler outside, though hardly arctic as your aunt seems to believe.”

King scooped George up as the other children gathered about them.

“Ah, everybody is ready,” Charlie said, clapping his hands together.

“Here’s your scarf, dear,” Ceci said, handing it over to her husband. Birdie was in her arms, watching proceedings with interest. “Now don’t forget to find me some mistletoe,” she added with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Your wish is my command, dearest.” Charlie kissed her and Ceci gazed adoringly at him.

“Are you sure you won’t come, Ceci?” Livvy asked.

“Oh, no,” Ceci said. “It’s too cold for Birdie, and all that tramping about in the mud. No, I shall stay here with my little bird and have a lovely morning, I assure you.”

Once everyone was ready, they set out. Spargo was waiting for them with a large barrow to collect their wares, and everyone else had baskets. The children set off at a run, giggling and shouting, their breath blowing clouds on the chill air. Charlie walked with Spargo and Harry, the three of them chatting amicably.

Livvy glanced sideways at King with little George in his arms. She