Read Online Unwrapping Her Perfect Match: A London Legends Christmas Novella by Kat Latham - Free Book Online Page A

curved in a sardonic smile. “And my life has never been the
same since.”
    Did she—wait... The words and her tone of
voice sounded almost regretful, which she may have been since she
got pregnant so young. But surely she shouldn’t express that in
front of her daughter.
    Caroline must’ve seen Gwen’s censure because
she shrugged. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t understand English.”
    Gwen’s jaw slackened, and her gaze shot to
John. His mouth moved like he was chewing the insides of his
cheeks. He nodded once, curtly, to affirm what Caroline said.
    “Oh,” Gwen said. What the hell? Her father
was English and the girl couldn’t speak the language? “So you
usually speak to her in French?”
    John grimaced. “I can’t speak French.”
    Gwen’s mind went blank for a few seconds. The
words bounced around in her head, but they made no sense. “You
don’t speak French.”
    “No.”
    “And your daughter doesn’t speak
English.”
    “No.”
    Her attention ping-ponged between the
not-really-a-family. Caroline’s nose had flared as if she smelled
week-old fish, but something in her eyes arrested Gwen from making
a snap judgment. Something suspiciously close to sadness.
    “I translate,” Caroline said.
    Suddenly, John’s distant relationship with
his daughter began making sense. No wonder he was nervous if he
couldn’t communicate with her on his own, other than with hand
gestures. Of course, Agnes was only ten, and if she didn’t have
someone speaking English to her all the time then she wouldn’t
understand it. Caroline was so fluent that she could’ve made more
of an effort, but why should she have to speak to her own daughter
in a foreign language when the girl’s father lived in a different
country and was rarely around?
    Why John hadn’t bothered himself to learn
French was another question entirely.
    “Well,” Gwen said, turning her attention to
Agnes. “ Bienvenue, Agnes. C’est un vrai plaisir de te
rencontrer .”
    The girl’s head shot up, her mouth gaping in
surprise.
    “ Je m’appelle Gwen. Je suis une amie de
ton père .”
    Agnes’s voice crackled. “ Enchantée,
madame .”
    “Gwen,” Gwen corrected.
    “Gwéen.”
    “ Tu veux boire quelque chose? Sprite?
Coca-Cola? ”
    “ Un Coca, s’il vous plaît .”
    “ D’accord .” Gwen turned to the two
adults who, frankly, had both plummeted in her estimation. “Agnes
and I are going to have a Coke. If either of you would care to join
us, we’ll be in the kitchen.”
    She held her hand out to the girl,
momentarily fearing that Agnes considered herself too old to hold
hands with a strange woman. But Agnes clasped her hand without
hesitation and followed her across the room to the kitchen, where
they sat alone for a half hour, drinking and chatting about horses,
books and how annoying boys are.
     
     
    By the time Agnes had finished her Coke, it
was nearly nine p.m. Hardly late for most people, but after a
twelve-hour shift and a few hours trying to figure John out, Gwen
was knackered. Considering it was an hour later in France, she
wasn’t surprised to see Agnes’s eyelids drooping.
    “ Allez viens, c’est l’heure d’aller au lit .”
    If the girl was annoyed by a stranger telling
her it was bedtime, she didn’t show it. She followed Gwen into the
living room, where they found John nodding off in his armchair as
Caroline chatted away on her mobile in swift French. Gwen perched
herself on the arm of John’s chair.
    “Time for bed,” she whispered.
    He grunted.
    “Does Agnes know where her bedroom is?”
    “Oh. No. I’ll show her.” He rubbed his eyes
and pushed himself out of the chair. He held his arm out to Agnes,
putting it around her stubbornly hunched shoulders. With his free
hand, he grabbed his daughter’s suitcase and wheeled it into the
little bedroom Gwen had decorated earlier. She overheard Agnes’s
gasp of surprise followed by John’s explanation. “Gwen hung these
twinkle lights for