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 put her in better humour, as it was good for her pineapples.
“Charlie, I’m so glad you’re home,” she said with a smile. “Do hurry up to see Ceci, she’s missed you dreadfully.”
She embraced her brother warmly, which rather surprised King as he knew how angry she was with him. Personally, he wanted to break the fool’s nose, not hug him, but then Charlie wasn’t his brother. He’d never had a sibling, so must assume that was normal.
Charlie paled visibly at mention of his beloved.
“She’s not ill, is she?” he asked in alarm.
Livvy shook her head but took both of Charlie’s hand’s lowering her voice. “No, no, she is quite well and apart from missing you, in good spirits, but… Oh, Charlie, I’m afraid she lost the baby. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh,” her brother’s face fell, and King was glad not to have come storming out to confront him as his temper had wanted him to.
The man looked as if he’d just been punched in the gut.
“Oh, well. Not to be, then. I… I suppose… for the best,” he said, but with such a sorrowful smile King knew he didn’t mean it.
For all that Charlie was a blasted fool who couldn’t keep a shilling in his pocket if there was something idiotic to spend it on, he loved his family, that much was obvious.
“Papa! Papa!”
A chorus of little voices echoed from inside the house, and a moment later Charlie disappeared under the onslaught of children. His sorrow vanished in the light of his warm greeting and he hugged each child, handing out lemon drops in return for a kiss. A burst of jealousy ripped through King, so intense it stole his breath. Not because the children wanted to greet their father and did not run to him, not that. Just that… that Charlie had all this. King had always known he’d wanted this too, a home, a family, but he hadn’t quite realised how badly, how deep the wound had been when his father had tied his future up with some silly child he would feel more a father to than a husband. God, the idea sickened him.
“Ah, Boscawen. A word, if I may.”
King stiffened as he turned towards the voice, the sound of footsteps having been drowned out by the children’s excitement. He looked to Livvy, who shrank back, moving towards him. King wondered if she knew she’d done it and felt a burst of pride in knowing she felt she could rely on him, and utter fury that this creature could make Livvy shrink away. His bold, fierce Livvy who looked the world square in the eye was afraid of this man, and that made him furious.
He went to move forward, to tell Mr Skewes to get the hell away from her, but Livvy caught his sleeve. Her eyes held a warning light as he glanced back. Not your place, they said silently.
King clenched his fists, frustrated by the knowledge that she was correct.
“Mr Skewes,” Charlie replied, smiling warmly, and holding out a hand to his neighbour. “Good to see you.”
“I wish I might believe you, my lord,” Mr Skewes said, an angry edge to his reply. “I’m afraid I have come to doubt my welcome in this house.”
His cold blue eyes glared at Livvy and King moved in front of her, blocking his view, meeting that hard stare with one of his own.
Charlie glanced between Skewes and his sister, and then King.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Mr Skewes,” he said. “Come along into my study and we can talk in private. I’ll have some tea brought. I’m parched, I don’t mind telling you. Such a journey…”
“Oh, stop prattling on, you damned fool,” Mr Skewes said. “Your sister has made me a laughingstock, telling the whole bloody world that she’d not marry me if I were the last eligible man in the country. Well, either she marries me before the year is out or you can all take up residence in debtor’s prison for all I care. You can bloody rot there.”
Charlie gaped, clearly never having seen this side of Mr Skewes before now, nor having suspected it was there. The fellow never could see when someone was playing him for a fool; he’d been a magnet for bullies at school.
The children gasped, huddling around their father at the man’s words, which had clearly terrified them. Anger rose in King’s chest and he stepped forward, but a furious Livvy pushed past him.
“You get away from here, you sorry excuse for a man. What the devil do you think you are playing at, speaking to Lord Boscawen with such disrespect and saying such vile things in front of the children? Can’t you see you are frightening them?”
Mr Skewes sneered at her. “It’s only the truth, Livvy, and it’s about time they discovered what a witless creature their father has been. He’s the one they should be afraid of, he’s the one whose condemned them all to a life in the gutter… if they’re lucky. You could save them that, you could save them all of it. But no. Miss hoity toity Penrose thinks she’s too good for me because her brother is a viscount. Well, I tell you this, if you want me to save your blasted family from the mire, you’ll come to me on bended knee and beg me, and you will come Livvy, crawling through the dirt like a dog. You will come to heel.”
Livvy gasped, colour rushing to her cheeks as her anger rose. “You call yourself a gentleman? You do not know the meaning of the word, you, smug, pompous, vile little man.”
Mr Skewes jolted as if she’d slapped him and raised his hand.
Livvy gasped, stumbling back.
King saw red.
He snatched at the hand before it could make contact, yanking Skewes around to face him.
“Don’t you dare!” King growled.
Skewes glared at him in fury. “This is none of your business, you interfering bastard.”
King didn’t budge, standing between Skewes and Livvy. “It’s not yours either, Livvy has made her choice.”
Mr Skewes made a sound of impotent rage and threw a punch which King dodged and then planted his fist in the man’s face with a such a burst of rage he heard the crunch as much as felt it. Skewes howled as he fell to the ground, clutching his nose. The desire to pick him up and do it again was a thrum in King’s blood, his heart thudding with the desire to hurt the man who would raise his hand to a woman. He struggled to calm himself, to remember he was a gentleman, a better man than this wretched creature, not that it was much of an accomplishment.
“Get out before I throttle you,” King said through his teeth, his fists clenched. “And don’t you ever, ever, come back.”
Skewes s
crambled away from King, getting to his feet.
“You’ll regret this when you are all out in the street,” he yelled back at them, except with his hand clutching his broken nose it sounded rather more like–Yoogretis wenarou ina steet—and it rather lost some of its sting.
Charlie stared after the man as he stumbled away from them before turning to Livvy.
“Oh, Liv. Livvy, I… I swear I didn’t know. I would never have suggested…”
Livvy let out a breath King suspected she’d been holding for some time and gave her brother a wan smile.
“Least said, soonest mended, I think, Charlie.”
Her brother’s expression was pained, but he nodded.
“I’d say I’d make it up to you, but…” He spread his hands in a rather hopeless gesture.
“Oh, Charlie,” Livvy said, and ran into his arms.
King rounded up the children, who were still white-faced and round-eyed with shock.
“Come along, now,” he said, urging them inside to give Livvy and her brother some privacy. “That’s enough excitement for one day. Let’s see if Gelly has some cake for us.”
“Cake,” George said, giving King an anxious glance.
King hated the fact that the children had seen him hit Mr Skewes and could only imagine what they thought of him now. Probably for the best but… but the idea that they might think badly of him or be afraid of him… his heart hurt.
He felt soft fingers touch his and looked down to see Jane inspecting his knuckles. “Come along,” she said, shaking her head in a perfect imitation of her Aunt Livvy. “That needs seeing to.”
“Ing?” George said, leaning away from Lydia, who was carrying him and holding his arms out.
King felt a lump in his throat as he took the boy and George curled his arms tight about his neck. “Bad man gone. You made bad man go away, Ing. I not like that man.”
King drew in a sharp breath and held George’s warm little body close. “I didn’t like him either, George, and yes, he’s gone. He won’t be back.”
George kissed his cheek. “Cake now, Ing.”
King laughed, though there was an odd, quaver to the sound that disturbed him. Bloody twit, getting all emotional. What the devil was wrong with him?
Feeling the weight of eyes upon him, King turned to see Susan staring at him. She blushed and smiled and looked away.
“I say, King, that was a smashing facer you landed him,” Harry said with breathless enthusiasm. “Did you ever fight with Gentleman Jackson? Is he as marvellous as they say? Would you show me?”
King let Harry’s excited questions carry him along, hoping by the time he arrived in the kitchen, he’d be calm enough to answer the lad.
Livvy waited until later that day to speak with her brother. Now that he had stopped pushing her to marry Mr Skewes and was feeling wretched about having done so, she had an opportunity. It would be so much easier to go to her aunt’s party if she had his blessing after all. It was a risk. Charlie could be remarkably stubborn, especially if propriety was in question, but they were clearly inching closer to desperation. He must see that they must grasp every opportunity they had.
She heard laughter from inside the study as she raised her hand to knock. Ceci was with him, and in much better spirits now her beloved was home. Livvy had underestimated her, she realised. Ceci was a frivolous creature it was true, but she would stand strong beside Charlie, no matter what.
“Come,” her brother called, and Livvy went in. “Livvy, come and have some tea and scones. It’s the last of strawberry jam too.”
Ceci patted the seat beside her and Livvy went and sat down, helping herself to a cup of tea.
“I need to speak with you both,” she said, once she was settled with her teacup in hand. “I… I have an idea. I planned to do this without your knowledge, but now you see what kind of man Mr Skewes is, I hope you might feel happier in trusting my judgement. I warn you though, I shall do this, with or without your blessing.”
Charlie got to his feet, frowning down at her.
“Go on,” he said, moving to stand beside the fire.
Livvy took a breath. “I intend to go to Aunt Agatha’s New Year’s house party in the hopes of finding a husband.”
Charlie gaped at her, and even Ceci let out a little gasp.
“Out of the question,” Charlie said at once. “Aunt Agatha is… good heaven’s Livvy, she’s scandalous. Do you have any idea how many lovers she’s had?”
Livvy shrugged. “None whatsoever. You will never speak of her to me, but she can’t be considered so scandalous as that for she’s still the height of fashion, is she not? Even I know her parties are legendary.”
Charlie stared at her. “Livvy, Agatha is a wealthy widow. Such women are allowed a deal more license than unmarried ones, but….”
“Respectable people go to her parties, don’t they?” Livvy pressed.
“Y-Yes,” Charlie said, for he was the kind of man who would tell the truth even if he didn’t like it. “But she is… she will… she’s a bad influence, Livvy.”
“Oh, stuff,” Livvy said, impatient now. “I’m four and twenty, Charlie, not a silly child of sixteen. I am beyond being influenced.”
“Charlie,” Ceci said tentatively. “Be reasonable. You know how sensible Livvy is. Far more than we are,” she added with a smile.
Livvy looked at Ceci in surprise, not having expected her support.
“Thank you,” she said.
Charlie still looked doubtful.
“Look, Charlie,” Livvy said with a sigh. “The chances are it will come to nothing but, in the first place, we have very few opportunities left to us, and in the second, I have never met my aunt. I should like the chance to do so, and if she is as wealthy as all that, perhaps she might at least sponsor Harry through school. We do not have the luxury of pride any longer, or are you going to tell me that things are not as bad as I think?”
A flush of colour tinged her brother’s cheeks and his shoulders sagged. Livvy watched as he sat down again.
“No, Livvy. I cannot tell you that. We shall have to leave here. I have a few options, fellows who might rent it from me. We won’t be in the gutter as Mr Skewes so eloquently described our situation, but… but the truth is things are going to be very tight indeed. I have debts to pay and…” He put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. “Livvy, I am your brother, it is my job to protect you so… so if you must go to this wretched party… I shall escort you.”
Livvy let out a breath of relief.
“Thank you,” she said, wondering why she did not feel more relieved. “Like I said, it’s unlikely to come to anything but… well, even if all I manage is to get Aunt Agatha to help Harry, it will have been more than worthwhile.”
“Oh, Livvy. Don’t be a silly goose. You’ll be a great success, I’m sure you will,” Ceci said, smiling at her. “Though I really think you ought to marry Lord Kingston, the poor man is in love with you, after all.”
“King?” Charlie said in shock.
Livvy stared at Ceci, too stunned to speak for a moment. That Ceci had even noticed there was something between them was shocking enough, but that King might… that he could be….
“In l-love,” she stammered. “W-With me?”
Ceci rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Good heavens, I’m not that oblivious to what goes on in this house, Livvy. Oh, Charlie, you should see them together, it’s adorable. He’s head over ears, I swear it.”
Charlie looked back at Livvy with interest.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, though her throat was tight. “You know as well as I do Ceci is a hopeless romantic. I believe that… that Lord Kingston is fond of me, yes, but… but as for being in love… Besides, it’s hopeless. His father has already selected a bride and won’t accept any other. King has no money and, if he married me, his father would cut him off for good. There would be no hope of reconciliation. I could not ask that of him, even… even if he did wish to and I might
point out, Ceci, he has not given me reason to believe he… he loves me, or he would want to m-marry me.”
“Livvy,” Charlie said, anxiety in his blue eyes. “King is an awfully charming fellow and a dreadful one for the ladies. He… he hasn’t…?”
“No!” Livvy said at once, flushing scarlet. “No, he has taken no liberties, so I beg you not to speak to him on the subject. He has been a perfect gentleman.”
More’s the pity, she added silently.
Charlie looked a little sceptical but nodded and Livvy let out a breath.
“Very well, Livvy, we shall leave after Christmas and I will escort you to Aunt Agatha’s, though heaven alone knows what kind of reception we shall receive. I only met her once and… well, it did not go well.”
Livvy sighed. One problem at a time.
Chapter Twenty
24th December 1818.
A Christmas like no other.
King had woken early. It was strange how his life had changed. Not so long ago, he would have slept the day away, for there was nothing worth getting up for. Sleeping off the previous night’s excesses was what the daylight hours were for. Not so now. Now he woke earlier and earlier, eager for the day ahead, desperate to snatch every moment he could with Livvy before this enchanted period of his life was over and gone. Time was passing too quickly, the minutes falling away like trying to hold sand in his grasp.
Christmas Eve already.
King forced the ache in his chest down, the panicky sensation that rose when he considered how little time was left. It could be measured in hours now, the time until he would be forced to say goodbye, to watch Livvy leave and never see her again.
Don’t. Don’t think on it.
He took a deep breath and concentrated on tying his cravat, but his fingers were all thumbs today. By some unspoken agreement, they had all made the past days as full and happy as was possible. Charlie and Ceci had joined in and they had played games with the children, King had played piano for impromptu dances and they had gone for long walks when the sun shone. Mealtimes were animated and filled with laughter and conversation and… and how would he carry on when his nights were spent with only Argos and poor devoted Walsh for company.
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