The Girl is Not For Christmas: A Christmas Regency Romance Novel Page 17

  Mrs Cardy laughed. “Oh, I know it, and that brood is surely a handful. His lordship is lucky to have such a sister, though no doubt he must get used to the lack of you soon enough.”

  Livvy stilled, frowning in confusion. “Oh, whyever would he need to do that?”

  “Oh.” Mrs Cardy’s rosy cheeks turned a slightly darker shade. “Forgive me, Miss Penrose, if I spoke out of turn only… well, it’s all anyone can speak of at present.”

  “What is?” Livvy demanded, her stomach twisting with an unpleasant sense of certainty that she would not like Mrs Cardy’s next words at all.

  “Why that… that you and Mr Skewes….”

  It was sometimes exhausting to be proven right all the time.

  Livvy’s jaw was so tight it was an effort to speak at all, but she forced her voice to remain calm and pleasant. “And where, pray, did this piece of nonsense spring from?”

  Mrs Cardy looked truly unhappy now and Livvy felt bad for making the woman so uncomfortable, but really, it was too much to be borne. If her brother had been spreading the news when he knew damn well….

  “Well, it were Mr Skewes himself what said it, or I’d have never… well, he didn’t say it outright but he… intimated that….” Poor Mrs Cardy was hot and flustered now and looked very much as if she wanted to run from the room.

  “Mr Skewes implied that… that we were engaged?” Livvy said, breathless but determined to know exactly what had been said.

  “Yes, Miss Penrose.”

  “I see.” Livvy’s stomach was a churning mass of fury. “Well, Mrs Cardy, you have my permission to refute that rumour in the strongest possible terms. Not only am I not engaged to Mr Skewes, having never been asked, but I have no intention of ever becoming engaged to Mr Skewes, not even if he was the last eligible man in the country. I do hope that clarifies things.”

  “Oh, yes, Miss,” Mrs Cardy said with an earnest nod, wringing her apron between anxious fingers, her usually cheerful countenance at once too pale and flushed at the same time.

  Livvy let out a breath. She did not wish to punish the poor woman for something that was not in the least her fault and reached out to take Mrs Cardy’s hand. “Don’t fret, Mrs Cardy. I know you would never gossip about me, but there are those, and…. Well, anyway. Do not disturb yourself, I am not the least bit cross with you. Indeed, it is a pleasure as always. Now, I have a few items I must get, but I cannot linger.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs Cardy said, her relief palpable. “I can see the skies growing darker as we speak, so you just give me that list of yours and it will be done in a trice, and don’t you worry. I’ll make sure I set everyone straight, and with pleasure too.”

  By the time Livvy exited the shop, she was seething with fury, though she had taken pains to ensure Mrs Cardy was unaware of it. Spargo, however, was family.

  “Oh!” she fumed as she climbed back into the cart. “You’ll never believe what that wretched man has done.”

  Spargo turned his head, eyes narrowing under his grizzled eyebrows.

  “Mr Skewes,” Livvy said, correctly interpreting Spargo’s expression as a request for further information. “Has given everyone the impression we are engaged to be married.

  Spargo sucked air in between his teeth and shook his head.

  “Bleddy tuss,” he muttered.

  “Quite,” Livvy replied. “If I were a man, I’d… I’d draw his cork.”

  “Calm, now, Miss,” Spargo said, his gravelly voice low and soothing. “Won’t do no good. Set ’em straight, diddy?”

  “Yes, I did. I told Mrs Cardy in no uncertain terms and gave her permission to tell anyone else labouring under the same delusion. I can only hope it gets back to Mr Skewes, and he takes the hint, once and for all.”

  Spargo made a disparaging sound that Livvy did not find reassuring but understood to be true herself. Mr Skewes had decided to have her and believed it only a matter of time before she came to her senses. Not that he’d ever asked her to marry him. She suspected he wouldn’t go that far all the time he knew he’d be rejected, but he believed she would change her mind, and she knew why that was. Bloody Charlie had likely told the man he need only wait her out. He was betting on the fact that Livvy would do the decent thing to save the family. Well, she would, but not with Mr Skewes. There was not much she wouldn’t do for them, but she drew the line at selling her soul to the devil. Why she was being so dramatic she did not know, only that the idea made her breathless and panicky as nothing else could.

  They made it back to the house, just as the heavens opened and Livvy hurried to the kitchen, eager for the comforts of home and a good hot cup of tea.

  By late afternoon, Livvy had just about calmed herself, though only if she kept busy and her thoughts away from Mr Skewes. Once she’d peeled potatoes 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 fo
r 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 would not fault her for not grasping at Mr Skewes’ offer. She was not a fortune hunter, but there had to be some measure of peace in her decision. She must at least feel safe, secure, must know the children were too, and there was nothing about this man that made her feel that way. He was the kind of man that crushed your spirit, smiling sweetly all the while.

  “Ah, Livvy, I admire your courage. I always have. Everyone knows this place only keeps going because of you, but I’m afraid it is time you stopped fighting.”

  His voice was gentle, almost apologetic, and a shiver ran down Livvy’s spine.

  “For the last time, Mr Skewes, you will address me as Miss Penrose, and I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

  Somehow, the words were forceful enough, but she was aware of the tremor of fear beneath them. She suspected Skewes heard it too, for there was a satisfied glint in his pale blue eyes. Yes, he liked that. He liked the fact that she was afraid.

  He gave her an assessing look, and then his tone became brisk and businesslike. “Your brother is in debt. He has invested in the most ridiculous schemes, as I’m sure you are aware, but perhaps you do not know that he has compounded the problem with yet another get rich quick scheme which has also failed. He told me he would be away for a few days, for he must do what he can to placate those he cannot pay. In short, Boscawen suggested I use this time to bring you to your senses. I can make it all go away, Livvy. I can pay his debts, the children can remain in their own home, Harry can go back to school, and the girls can have their season. All you need to do, is say yes.”

  Livvy felt as though the world had tilted, as though everything had shifted, and she could not keep her balance. She stumbled back, dizzy with shock, and felt a strong arm at her elbow, steadying her.

  “Miss Penrose, are you quite well? You look rather peaked.” King said, his dark eyes moving from her to Mr Skewes.

  She did not know if he had heard their conversation, but something in his expression told her he had taken an instant dislike to Mr Skewes. Whatever his reasons for it, she felt a sudden surge of vindication. King felt it too. He wasn’t the kind of man who could be taken in with polite words and smiles. He saw the truth in people, in himself. Even when it was ugly, King didn’t look away. In that moment she could have kissed him, almost did, just for the satisfaction of seeing the look on that odious man’s face.

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t feel terribly well,” Livvy said, meeting those dark eyes and hoping he understood her gratitude. She was not a feeble creature, she never had been, but she had not been prepared for this. Next time, she would be ready.

  “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure, sir,” Mr Skewes said, his voice cool with displeasure.

  “My lord,” King corrected, and Livvy watched with delight as he held Mr Skewes’ gaze, a sardonic smile playing at his lips.

  “My lord,” Livvy said, suddenly relishing the moment. “Allow me to introduce our neighbour, Mr Skewes. Mr Skewes, The Earl of Kingston.”

  Livvy had never believed herself to be a vindictive creature, and she loathed it when people of higher station looked down upon those they considered beneath them, but she was honest enough to admit that watching Mr Skewes bow—albeit grudgingly—to King, was one of the most satisfying moments of her life. Skewes had a way of being so precisely polite and attentive to those beneath his station that it smacked of condescension, though sometimes Livvy thought she was the only person who saw it. He believed himself better than most everyone around here, though, and certainly better than Boscawen despite his title, because he thought her brother was a fool. Sadly, she could not gainsay him on that point.

  King, however, was not a fool.

  “If you will excuse me, Mr Skewes,” Livvy said, urgently needing to be away from him now. “But I am feeling rather unwell.”

  “Livvy,” Mr Skewes said, a warning tone to his voice that made Livvy’s skin prickle and her heart pick up speed.

  “Miss Penrose is indisposed, Mr Skewes,” King said, taking a step closer to the man and for the first time Livvy truly appreciated his height and breadth. He could be intimidating when he put his mind to it, she realised, and yet he had never once made her feel anything but secure, even when he was angry with her. She had never once doubted her safety or feared his temper, despite his reputation. “Do go and rest now, Miss Penrose. I shall send Lady Boscawen to you directly after I have shown Mr Skewes out.”

  He gestured to the front door, leaving Skewes no other option but to leave.

  Livvy saw the way Mr Skewes’ jaw set, saw the furious glint in his eyes as he addressed her. “We shall speak again, when you are feeling more composed and able to listen to reason,” Mr Skewes promised, sketched a half-hearted bow, and stalked away.

  She couldn’t speak for a long moment after the door had closed, just stood there, staring at it, wondering what she might have said or done if King had not been there to give her a moment's respite.

  “Come along,” he said, his voice gentle, and he took her arm and guided her to the parlour. He sat her down in a chair by the hearth before ringing the bell and then stooped to stir up the embers and get the fire blazing again.

  Spargo appeared a moment later.

  “Mr Skewes just called on Miss Penrose,” King said with no preamble. “I do not believe she wishes for a repeat of the experience. In the future, you alone will answer the door and under no circumstances is the lady at home unless she expressly tells you otherwise.”

  “Zackly,” Spargo said at once with a determined nod, before turning to Livvy. “Miss… I were in the kitchens….”

  Livvy shook her head and returned a wan smile. “It was my own fault. I ought not have answered the door. After this morning I should have known what I was in for, and you cannot be in two places at once. Goodness knows you do too much for us as it is.”

  Spargo rubbed the back of his neck, looking miserable and awkward.

  “Might we have some tea, and perhaps some of Gelly’s excellent cake, if there is any?” King suggested.

  Spargo nodded at once, looking relieved to have something he could do. “Right on, my lord.”

  Once he was gone, King turned back to Livvy, and she looked up at him. “What a feeble creature you must think me, though I do thank you for playing knight in shining armour. I confess I have never been more grateful to see anyone in all my life….”

  Her voice quavered and, to her horror, a fat tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Oh, Christ, Livvy, no. Oh, damnation, don’t cry. Why don’t you scold me for my appalling behaviour or… or list all my failings one by one? You know being horrid to me always makes you feel better. You can hit me if you want to,” he offered, his voice so earnestly sincere that Livvy laughed and sobbed at the same time.

  “Oh, K-King, you are the most r-ridiculous creature,” she hiccoughed.

  “There, see. You feel better already, don’t you?” he said, a note of triumph in his voice.

  “Yes,” she said, staring at him through a haze of tears. “You always make me feel better. Since you got here, whenever the world is bleak and unfriendly and I feel all alone, I turn around and there you are and… and you make it all better, King. How? How do you do that?”

  He swallowed, his eyes dark and s
ombre and anxious. “I don’t know, Livvy, but I don’t make it better. I only make you forget it for a bit. I would though… if I could, I would make it better, but…”

  She reached out and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I know.”

  King took her hand, holding it for a long moment before he pressed a kiss to her palm that made her stomach do a peculiar flip flop, and then he let it go. Livvy longed for him to take it back, but he drew in an uneven breath and got to his feet. She watched as he straightened his waistcoat and looked down at her.

  “Well, then, that was Mr Skewes. I’m afraid you had the right of it, Livvy, my girl. He’s appalling.”

  Livvy nodded. “Yes, though you have no idea how you relieve my mind by saying that. Charlies and Ceci think I’m all about in my head to refuse the man. They see only a handsome fellow with pretty manners, a lovely home, and money enough to solve all of our problems.”

  King made a sound of disgust. “Ceci is oblivious to the world at large, and I’m afraid to say your brother is a selfish prick. I know that seems wicked of me to say so when he took it upon himself to save my sorry carcass when he could have looked away, and I know he means well, but really he just dragged me out of the gutter and threw me at your feet. It was you who did the hard bit, Livvy. It was you who saved me. More than you realise, I think.”

  There was something in his voice, something sincere and wistful, and Livvy felt emotion bubble up in her chest.

  On impulse she sprang to her feet and ran to him, throwing her arms about his waist and holding on tight, her face buried against his chest. Oh, and he smelled so wonderful. Fresh linen and soap and a clean, male, musky scent that made her a little giddy. He froze, rigid beneath her embrace at first, and then his arms closed about her and he held her tight.

  “Livvy,” he said, his voice soft. “I can’t….”

  “Shut up,” she told him, using her most severe scolding tone and clinging harder.

  His chest moved in a slight huff of laughter and he stroked her hair.