The Girl is Not For Christmas: A Christmas Regency Romance Novel Read online

  Don’t think on it.

  “Here, let me do that,” Walsh said, exasperated with his mangling of the cravat. “A right pig’s ear you’ve made of it.”

  King huffed but allowed Walsh to take over. Foolish to realise he’d even miss seeing the wretched piglet trotting about, though he was happy enough never to see the blasted crow again. He’d bring it home and happily, however, if Livvy came too.

  “So, they’ve agreed she can go to her aunt’s party then,” Walsh said.

  King felt his valet’s gaze upon him, studying him. “They have.”

  “Reckon she’ll find herself a husband then.”

  “I suppose so,” King replied, terse. He knew damn 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 wondered what would become of him when he left them. Fretting over this was something she was doing more and more, indeed it kept her awake at night. King needed company, needed looking after. He might be a big, strong looking fellow, and he was filling his clothes out properly now after plenty of rest and good healthy meals, but he wasn’t nearly as unbreakable as his appearance might suggest. There was a gentle soul beneath that fierce exterior. Seeing him with George was enough to illustrate that fact with no doubt. He adored the boy, and she feared leaving the children would hurt him more than he realised. If ever a man needed a family, it was King.

  They had fallen behind the others and no one was paying them any mind, so Livvy slipped her hand into his. His gloves were of the finest leather and she felt the heat of him as his fingers curled about hers. He glanced down at her.

  “Christmas already,” he said, smiling. “I don’t know where the time went.”

  Livvy shook her head. “Me either. I… I wish….”

  “Don’t,” he said, and she looked up sharply, aware of a desperate edge to his voice. He met her eyes, and she saw the apology there as he shook his head. He did not wish for them to speak of it, to acknowledge it. Well, perhaps that was for the best.

  “Look, Ke re ow,” George sounded out, pointing as a large black bird swooped overhead.

  “Crow!” Livvy said, smiling at him. “Quite right, well done, George, clever boy. It’s Mr Moon.”

  King glowered. “Ugh.”

  “Be nice,” Livvy warned him, smiling, even though she wanted to cry.

  “S’alright, Ing,” George said, patting his shoulder. “No be ‘fraid. George keep Ing safe.”

  King gave a surprised little laugh and hugged George to him. “Thank you. Thank you, George,” he said, and Livvy had to hurry away as tears pricked at her eyes and her throat grew tight.

  By lunchtime, they had a huge barrow full of greenery, holy and ivy and evergreen, laurel and hawthorn, but still no mistletoe. The children were cold and hungry by now though, so everyone headed back towards the house. Livvy turned to see where King was, realising he was not giving up the hunt. Charlie had taken George and the other children were rushing home with the prospect of hot chocolate and food giving them a last burst of energy. No one was paying her any mind, and though she knew he would be cross with her, she would not let King leave with nothing said between them. She was desperate to feel his arms about her again, and the very least he owed her was a kiss after thwarting her plans so thoroughly.

  She crept through the woodland as quietly as she could so he did not realise she was there until she was quite close to him.

  He turned and saw her and let out a huff of laughter. “I s
hould have known.”

  “You did know,” she said, smiling at him. “You wanted me to come after you.”

  He lowered his eyes and looked away from her.

  “Yes,” he said simply. “Though I thought perhaps good sense might prevail.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  She moved closer to him and then stilled as something caught her eye. “Oh, King, look,” she said, laughing now. “How perfect.”

  King looked up, to see a large ball of mistletoe in the branches of the tree he was standing beneath. He shook his head. “The universe is conspiring against me as usual,” he said with a snort.

  Livvy moved closer, relieved when he didn’t step away. “Perhaps the universe knows a thing or two that we don’t,” she said softly and slid her arms about his waist.

  King let out a breath. “I wish it would give me a bit of help in that case.”

  “I think this one is easy enough to interpret,” Livvy said, reaching up with one hand and drawing his head down, seeking his mouth.

  “Livvy,” he protested, but it was a half-hearted effort at best.

  He kissed her, pulling her into his arms, so tight she could hardly breathe, his kiss so fierce it was as though he needed it like he needed air. Livvy’s heart raced in her chest, giddy with desire and happiness and longing and the desperation of knowing this was all she would have of him.

  “King, oh, King, I can’t bear it.”

  “Don’t, Livvy, don’t say it, I can’t…”

  Livvy heard the pain in his voice and her heart leapt even as she knew it changed nothing. He did care, perhaps he even loved her a little…

  She kissed him again, pressing herself against his hard body and wanting… wanting so much, everything.

  “Oh, God, don’t, don’t… I… Christ, love.” King gasped as she wrestled his shirt free and slid her cold hands beneath. She laughed at his shock, revelling in the feel of his hot skin beneath her palms. “You little wretch.”

  “You never did teach me how to seduce a man, King. You never taught me what I needed to know.”

  King cupped her face between his large hands, staring down at her, his dark eyes warm and gentle. “Ah, love. You never needed it. Did you never realise? I’ve been yours since the beginning, Livvy. If I didn’t love you so much, I would never be able to resist you, I would never be able to let you go, but I could never hurt you, beautiful Olivia. You deserve the world, and I cannot give it to you.”

  “Oh,” Livvy stared up at him, hardly able to take in his words. He loved her. He loved her, but he was still going to let her go. She burst into tears and clung to him, and he held her tight.

  “Come along, we’d best cut this mistletoe and get back before they send out a search party. I have no wish to answer a lot of awkward questions from your brother.”

  He kissed her forehead and let her go and Livvy almost stamped her foot with frustration, but she knew that was no way to get what she wanted, what she needed. For that… for that she would need a plan.

  By the evening, the house was bedecked with greenery. They had adorned the mantelpieces with fir and berry studded holly, and there had been much muttering and cursing over the tying of red ribbons as the vicious leaves stabbed at tender fingers. Candles glowed, and Spargo and Charlie had hauled in a massive Yule log which was burning in the hearth. The house was quiet now, though. The children had gone to bed, chattering and merry, full of excitement for the great feast tomorrow. Everyone would be up early in the morning with plenty of jobs for everyone to do before they could get to the business of celebrating. Once upon a time this house had been filled with servants, and the idea that Livvy or any of them should dirty their hands with chores too ridiculous for words. Times had changed though, and in truth, Livvy did not mind it. Though her hands were not pretty and smooth as they had once been, she did not enjoy sitting idle. Tonight, however, she was not thinking about the jobs that needed doing, nor the day ahead, she was lying in wait.

  “Mr Walsh.”

  Walsh leapt about a foot in the air as she stepped out of the parlour door to intercept him in the corridor.

  “Saints preserve me,” Walsh said, clutching at his heart. “Lord, but you gave me a turn.”

  “I do beg your pardon, Mr Walsh. I did not intend to startle you.”

  She stood silently for a moment while the man drew in a steadying breath. “Thought everyone had gone to bed long since,” he said, turning towards her at last.

  Livvy gave him an apologetic smile and shook her head. “I waited up. I… I need to speak with you about… Well, it’s a little indelicate, but… but I have come to trust you, Mr Walsh, and I flatter myself that you like me enough to—”

  “He’s expecting me, Miss,” Walsh said, giving her a sad smile. “If I don’t come, he’ll go looking. It won’t work, not tonight…” He broke off and pursed his lips. “Tomorrow night though, I’ve said I’ll pitch in and help Gelly and Spargo with the cleaning up. Reckon that could take… Oh, hours and hours. I’ll not want to disturb him by the time I’m done, I reckon.”

  Livvy let out a breath. “Thank you.”

  Walsh nodded.

  Heat burned up the back of her neck as Livvy considered just what it was she was doing, and that this man knew about it. “You must think me such a—”

  Walsh reached out and squeezed her hand. “I think people do desperate things when they’re in love, and I hope you might use the time to talk some bloody sense into him. He needs you, Miss. I told you that from the start. I never seen anyone handle him how he needs handling and… ah, bloody hell. If you want a bit of advice, you’ll get him to ruin you, then he’d be duty bound to make you his wife. He’d never consider not marrying you then. Honour, you see, Miss.”

  Livvy laughed, the sound startled out of her. “Well, I thank you for your advice, Mr Walsh, but I’d never trap him in such a way. I cannot ask him to choose me over his father. Somehow, they must be reconciled, and his fortunes restored to him. Living in poverty with me hardly has anything to recommend it, now does it?”

  “It has you, Miss,” Walsh said firmly, and Livvy’s heart warmed at the compliment.

  “I wish that were enough,” she whispered, a catch in her voice. “Thank you, though, for tomorrow night. I… I just need time… time to say goodbye.”

  Walsh nodded, and Livvy turned away and hurried up to bed.

  25th December 1818.

  “Do you think…?”

  “Yes!” Walsh said, exasperated. It might not have been the first time King had mentioned this. “Yes, I think the presents are perfect and they’ll love them.”

  King huffed, unconvinced. “They’re hardly presents, mere trifles. I feel ridiculous giving such paltry offerings.”

  Walsh took a deep breath. King got the impression he was praying for patience. “My lord, those children adore you. They’d be happy with anything you gave them, but the gifts are personal and thoughtful, they’ll be chuffed to bits, you mark my words.”

  Mollified, King nodded and gathered the little collection of wrapped gifts together. He had something for Livvy too, but that would have to wait until later.

  King hurried downstairs and hid the presents in an out of the way corner before investigating what was going on. The hub of activity seemed naturally to be focused between the kitchen and the dining room.

  “Look, King,” Jane called, waving him into the dining room where the children were helping Spargo decorate the table. The best china and crystal and silverware had been polished and shined, and King tried not to think about the possibility of it all being sold off. He hoped things weren’t so very dire. “Doesn’t it look lovely?”

  King nodded, smiling at her and picking up a hand drawn place marker. “Beautiful, Jane. Did you make these? They’re fabulous.”

  Jane shook her head.

  “Rebecca did them.”

  King looked at the girl. She was by far the quietest of the siblings and the most serious. She pushed her glasses
up her nose, flushed with pleasure at his words. King inspected the place marker with each person’s name carefully drawn in different coloured ink. She had illustrated the names too, with whatever she thought appropriate. King’s was drawn with a large curly K and there were little golden crowns and musical notes all around it.

  “You have a very fair hand with a pen, Rebecca. These are quite lovely. May I keep mine after dinner?”

  “Oh. Oh, yes, of course,” she said shyly. “I should like you to have it.”

  “Thank you. I shall treasure it.”

  Leaving the girl flustered and pink, King went to investigate the kitchens.

  He paused on the threshold, enveloped by the delicious scents of Christmas, and enjoying the bustling scene before him. Livvy was in the thick of things as he had expected, her cheeks flushed, golden curls falling around her face.

  “Good morning,” he said, causing Livvy to jump and drop the spoon she was holding. It clattered into the saucepan she’d been peering into.

  “Oh, King. Good morning to you.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help? You all look rather frantic,” he said, noticing that even Ceci was here, though to be honest, she looked rather less frantic and was stirring a saucepan with a lazy hand and a dreamy expression.

  Gelly glanced up at him in horror.

  “An earl… in my kitchen? I think not, my lord,” she tsked. “What would people say?”

  “Oh, nonsense,” Livvy said briskly. “No one will ever know. Why shouldn’t he help if he wants to? There’s all those Brussels sprouts to peel, for one thing.”

  Brussels sprouts? Damn. He’d had to open his mouth.

  Livvy took his arm and guided him to the kitchen table. Then she fetched a large bowl of sprouts and gave him an empty saucepan and a small knife.

  “Like this,” she said, demonstrating how to peel off the outer leaves and cut the base of the sprout.

  Well, that didn’t look too challenging.