The Girl is Not For Christmas: A Christmas Regency Romance Novel Page 28

  Agatha’s eyes flashed as she turned on him. “King isn’t asking for your permission, Arthur. You’ve had that poor boy all but beggared, and he’s still not dancing to your tune. He’ll marry the woman he loves, even if you never speak to him again, even if he never sees a penny of your money until you’re cold in your grave. That’s a man in love, my dear.”

  “But I was just a boy,” the marquess said, reaching for Agatha and taking her in his arms. “I did not know what I was doing, what I was throwing away. If I had only known, love, I should never have done it. I swear, I would have married you, my father be damned.”

  “So you say,” Agatha said, clearly unimpressed by this heartfelt declaration.

  “It’s true. I have loved you since we were children. You and you alone, Agatha. My wife and I have never cared for each other; it was an alliance, not a marriage. You must believe me.”

  Agatha turned to look at him, her lovely face cool.

  “Prove it,” she said. “Give your son his blessing to marry my niece. Prove to me you have learned your lesson and truly regret casting me aside. Do this… or I shall never see you again.”

  King heard Livvy gasp beside him, felt her hold on him tighten, but in truth he was too dazed to comprehend… what the bloody hell was going on? To see his father so out of control, so clearly out of his mind for Mrs Dudley, who was apparently the woman he’d loved all his life… it was astonishing. The Marquess of Eynsham had never experienced anything remotely resembling an emotion in his entire life as far as King was concerned, so this was a revelation.

  King was utterly speechless.

  “Darling, you don’t know what you ask of me. It’s not a question of snobbery, but the girl is Olney’s daughter. It would be the match of the century—”

  King watched as his father’s mouth snapped shut, as well it might at the look Mrs Dudley sent him.

  “Goodbye, Arthur.” She walked away from him, head held high.

  “Wait! Wait, Agatha… oh, damnation. Very well. Anything, love, anything you want only… don’t leave me. Please, my darling. I’ve only just got you back after all these years. I can’t lose you again. I can’t live without you any longer.”

  Agatha turned back to him, her expression thoughtful. “You mean it, Arthur? Upon your honour? Your son can marry my niece with your blessing? You’ll return his fortune to him?”

  King’s father swallowed hard. Oh, that was a bitter pill indeed, King thought wryly.

  “Upon my honour, Aggie. May God strike me dead if I tell a lie.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Agatha said, moving to kiss the marquess’ cheek.

  Then the wicked creature looked up the stairs, to where she’d obviously been well aware they had an audience.

  “Did you hear that, King? Livvy? Arthur says you have his blessing. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  King watched as his father’s gaze lifted to his and the man’s colour rose dramatically through several shades until it settled on something that could only be described as puce. It clashed rather wonderfully with his waistcoat. God might not have struck him down, but King suspected it was a close-run thing. He looked on the verge of an apoplexy.

  “Oh, Aunt!” Livvy flew down the stairs to embrace the woman, who held her in her arms like a long-lost daughter.

  “There, there now, Olivia, dear,” she said with perfect calm. “I told you to trust me, did I not?”

  King walked slowly down the stairs, assuming with every step that his father would take it back, deny his permission, and swear he’d see him in the gutter before he allowed him to marry for love, of all things. It never happened.

  He moved to Livvy and took her hand in his, facing the Marquess of Eynsham, his father, and looking him in the eye.

  “My lord, may I present my fiancée, Miss Olivia Penrose?”

  King waited, holding his breath in case his father was rude, gave her the cut direct, or made any number of cruel comments for which he was so famous.

  “Miss Penrose,” his father said at length. “You have your aunt’s spirit, I suspect. I can see it in your eyes. In which case… my son has made a very wise choice. A wiser one than I ever made.”

  With that, he gave King a curt nod and walked away.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  12th January 1819.

  Sparkling snow, sparkling eyes and the happiest of days.

  They were married two weeks later in the ancient church of St Andrew’s in Bude. Everything was a sparkling white after snowfall the night before, and King’s breath clouded on the frosty air as they emerged from the church.

  Livvy shivered beside him and he pulled her close.

  “Well, Countess, we’d best get you warmed up,” he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

  Livvy returned a warning glance. “We have a wedding breakfast, remember. Gelly will have your guts for garters if you don’t do it justice.”

  “Ah, well. I’ll do my best on the carriage ride home, then. Can’t have the Countess of Kingston arriving with a red nose, can we?”

  Livvy gasped and covered her nose with her hand. “Oh, it isn’t, is it?”

  King laughed and pulled her hand away, giving her nose a kiss. “It’s perfect, love. You are perfect as always.”

  “’Ing! ’Ing!”

  “Come on then, George,” King said, holding his arms out to the little boy.

  He’d been thoroughly over-excited throughout the service, and nothing anyone did could stop him tearing up and down the aisle giggling like a lunatic, much to the disapproval of the vicar. King lifted him up and kissed his cheek, then blew a raspberry against his neck, which only made George shriek and laugh all the more.

  “Stop getting him all excited,” Walsh said, shaking his head. “We won’t be able to manage him if you keep this up.”

  “Ah, he’s just enjoying himself,” King protested.

  Walsh gave a dignified sniff. “I was speaking to Master George.”

  Livvy spluttered with laughter and King snorted. “Oh-ho, very droll.”

  “Well done, King,” Charlie said, coming up to shake his new brother-in-law’s hand. “Welcome to the family, and thank you again….”

  King shook his head. “No more thanks, Charlie. You just let Mr Moyles grow that pineapple business, don’t make any investments without talking to us first, and listen to Livvy the next time she gives you good advice. That’s all the thanks I need.”

  Charlie nodded ruefully. “My word on it. And you’re quite sure about having all the children come and stay?”

  “If you don’t send them, I shall come and fetch them myself,” King said, his voice firm.

  “See Argos, ’Ing? At the castle?” George demanded.

  King nodded. “Yes, George. At Easter. You will come and stay with me and Livvy and Argos.”

  George gave a little whoop of delight and then wriggled his way free, running off after his big brother. “’Arry, ’Arry, we go to ’Ing’s castle!”

  King laughed and turned back to Charlie. “I’d have them sooner, but the place needs a deal of work before we have visitors. Besides, if you don’t take Ceci to Paris at Easter like you promised, you’ll be in the doghouse.”

  Charlie laughed. “Indeed I shall. Well, I shall say it again, anyway. Thank you, King. You’ve saved me once again, it seems. I shan’t forget it.”

  “Ah, Charlie, let’s call it quits this time, eh?” He tugged Livvy closer, smiling at her. “I was saved too, after all.”

  To Livvy’s delight, her glamorous Aunt Agatha had deigned to come to the wedding. It was quite clear now where Livvy had inherited her forthright nature from, and the women had formed a strong bond almost at once. King was pleased for her, and even more so that Livvy felt she had regained a connection to the mother she had lost in hearing Agatha’s stories about them growing up together. Agatha and Charlie were not exactly reconciled, but they were thawing towards each other. Agatha had to admit that there was some truth in her not being entirely re
spectable, and she was perhaps not the perfect role model for her great-nieces. Charlie, in turn, had to confess that Agatha was not the wicked harlot his grandfather had made her out to be, and that she had many fine qualities which his children would do well to emulate. There was an understanding there, and King felt certain that they would find a way forward.

  King had not invited his parents. There would be no warm reconciliation there. King did not expect or even want one. He pitied his mother for their loveless marriage and his father for having made the wrong choice all those years ago. He even understood that he might not have withstood the pressure himself if he’d been a boy of eighteen instead of a man of five and thirty. As it was, there had been no other choice for him. He could not have let Livvy go, and he knew he would have found a way to care for her, and for the children, even if things had not turned out so perfectly. Though he had fallen a very long way down, he had faith in himself now, in his ability to stand strong, to resist temptation and choose what was right over what was easy. He could do it because he had chosen Livvy. She had changed him, she had changed everything, and he had never been so grateful for anything in his life.

  King looked around as Walsh laid a hand on his arm. “If I might say so, my lord, well done. I’m… well, I’m right proud of you, and so happy, too. I knew from the start she was the one for you.”

  “Yes, you did, didn’t you?” King said with a smile. He reached for Walsh’s hand, grasping it in both of his. “What you did for me, keeping me alive when I barely cared what happened….”

  “Ah, no,” Walsh protested, shaking his head.

  “No, Walsh. It needs saying. You are loyal and true, and far more to me than just a valet. I hope you know that. You’ve been a friend, the only one I’ve ever been able to count on. I just want you know you have a friend in me, too.”

  Walsh choked, and fumbled for a handkerchief, wiping his eyes, and giving his nose a forceful blow.

  “Well, thank you, sir. You’re like a son to me, truth be told,” he said and then cleared his throat and gave King a look of utter guilelessness. “Does this mean I’ll get a raise, then?”

  King snorted, amused. “Devil. Never mind a raise, I owe you at least six months back pay. But of course, Walsh. Goes without saying.”

  Walsh chuckled, looking a bit guilty. “I was only ragging you.”

  “I know.” King nodded. “But I wasn’t. You deserve every penny.”

  The moment the carriage door closed on them, King pulled Livvy into his lap.

  “Right, Countess, you have twenty-five minutes to have your wicked way with me,” he said, grinning at her.

  “I’ve had it,” Livvy said tartly. “More times than I can count, you dreadful man. I never realised quite how apt your nickname was.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said, his voice low as he made quick work of the buttons on her elegant new pelisse and slid his fingers beneath, up her side to cup her breast. “You knew the first time you set eyes on me.”

  Livvy sighed as his thumb brushed back and forth over her nipple. “Oh, very well. You win.”

  King chuckled and kissed a path down her neck.

  “This is a beautiful gown, by the way,” he said. “I am looking forward to taking it off you later.”

  “It was dreadfully expensive,” Livvy said, and he could still hear the anxiety in her voice.

  King sighed and looked up at her. “Good. Stop worrying about money. Now my inheritance has been restored to me, I am quite disgustingly wealthy. I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to it.”

  “Yes, King,” she said meekly. “I shall try.”

  “I should think so. Now… where was I?”

  “I think you were about to tug my dress down and kiss me until I scream,” Livvy said, utterly deadpan.

  King’s entire body stood to attention.

  “God, I love you,” he said. “Come here.”

  Livvy chuckled and did as he instructed, climbing over and straddling him.

  “Oh,” she said, as his aching cock pressed against her in just the right place. Her blue eyes darkened, glittering with mischief. “King… can you… you know… in a carriage?”

  “Of course I can,” he said, aware he sounded far too pleased with himself. “But we must hurry.”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Livvy gasped as he tugged up her skirts and she fumbled at his buttons.

  “Quick, quick,” he muttered, as they snatched desperately at each other. “Yes, yes… Oh, oh, Livvy.”

  His head fell back against the squabs as she sank down onto him, and he was engulfed in heat and pleasure and Livvy.

  “Heaven, love,” he whispered against her neck. “You are heaven. I can’t believe you are really mine.”

  “All yours,” she whispered. “All yours for always, King, and not just for Christmas.”

  Epilogue

  24th December 1820.

  The Christmas season once again, and family, in all its messy perfection.

  “Someone’s here!” Susan cried, climbing down from her position at the window seat and rushing from the room with Lydia and Rebecca in pursuit.

  “Oh, is it your mother and father?” Livvy called, springing up from her seat by the fire and following her out.

  “It’s Harry!” Jane shrieked, somehow having got to the door before any of them.

  Bascombe, their dreadfully efficient butler, gave the girl an amused glance as she passed him on the way out.

  Livvy turned to see King coming down the stairs, carrying their baby daughter, Bea. Lady Beatrice Agatha St John had been born five months ago and was the apple of her father’s eye.

  “I thought you were giving her to Nanny to put her down for a nap,” Livvy said, hiding a smile and knowing exactly what had happened.

  “I was,” King admitted. “But she sleeps much better when I’m holding her.”

  Livvy sighed as he walked up to her and she kissed his cheek.

  “Like her mother,” she said softly.

  King tore his eyes away from his daughter long enough to grin at her.

  “Give her to me,” Livvy instructed firmly. “Harry has just arrived, and you know he’ll be bursting to see you.”

  Reluctantly, King handed the baby over, kissed Bea’s head, then Livvy’s, and hurried out to greet Harry.

  Livvy waited inside in the warmth until everyone rushed in with a burst of noise and laughter. Her heart soared as she saw Harry. He’d grown at least another inch since last she’d seen him last, and he was broader across the shoulders. His cravat was tied with absolute precision, and he looked the image of a fashionable young man, home for the holidays. She held back, not wanting to embarrass him by hugging and kissing him as if he were still a little boy, but Harry took one look and ran to her, hugging her carefully around the baby and gazing down at Bea.

  “She’s got so big, and yet she’s still tiny,” he said, lifting his gaze back to Livvy. “It’s so good to see you, Livvy, and little Bea.”

  “Oh, it’s good to see you too, Harry. We have missed you dreadfully.”

  Harry laughed, blushing a little, and kissed her cheek. “Are Mama and Papa here yet?”

  “Not yet,” Livvy began as the sound of carriage wheels reached her. “I spoke too soon….”

  Harry grinned and ran back outside again.

  “Here, give me my little princess,” King said, stealing the baby back.

  Naturally, the child had woken now and cooed at her father, kicking her little legs gleefully.

  “King!” Livvy protested, though in truth it made her heart melt to see how her husband doted on their baby. Not that it meant any of the other children got any less attention. George was his constant shadow whenever he was at Wynford, which begged the question….

  “Where’s George?”

  King looked around. “He… He was here a moment ago.”

  “Oh,” Livvy said, wondering where to start looking. The castle was vast, and—

  K
ing held up a hand. “Argos! Here, boy!”

  A moment later, there was the scratching of claws on the flagstones and Argos came trotting into the grand entrance hall, wearing one of Livvy’s best bonnets, and with George following on behind. Mr Moon swooped across the space, diving low over King and making him duck with a huff of annoyance.

  “Blasted bird!”

  “I can’t undo the bow,” George said crossly, pointing at Argos. “Silly Jane dressed him up again. He’s not a girl dog, King. Can’t you tell her?”

  “Well, I’m sure Argos doesn’t mind,” King said, eyeing the dog doubtfully.

  Livvy laughed as Argos gave a long-suffering sigh and lay down on the floor.

  “Oh, dear. Poor darling. Come here and let me free you.”

  After Livvy had disentangled Argos, and the entire family were installed at the dinner table, King looked about him with a deep sense of satisfaction. The castle was the kind of project that would last him his lifetime, and probably his children’s too, but that was just fine. He was proud of everything he and Livvy had achieved to date, and especially of his daughter, who had taken a little longer to arrive than they’d expected, but he was making up for lost time. King wondered when Livvy was going to tell him she was expecting again. He would look dreadfully surprised, naturally. A smile curved over his mouth.

  “What are you looking so smug about?” Aunt Agatha demanded of him. “You look like the cat that got the cream.”

  King shook his head.

  “Just happy, Aunt,” he said, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing her fingers. “I am so very pleased to have you here with us for Christmas.”

  “Oh, piffle,” Agatha said, laughing. “You’re still pleased as punch over your lovely daughter, I know. Not that I blame you. I think she has my eyes. She will be a great beauty.”

  “She has her mother’s eyes,” King said firmly. “And yes, she certainly will be.”

  Agatha snorted and tapped her knife on the side of her glass until she had everyone’s attention. “A toast, I think. To my beautiful new great-niece and namesake, Beatrice Agatha.”