Page 12 of The Lady and the Lion (Victorian Outcasts #9)

ten

T he hours Vivienne spent with Samuel were the best of her week. They gave her the strength to endure Mother’s worries. If Father hadn’t intervened and convinced Mother to let her go every time she wanted to go out, she would have spent all her days at home.

In a few months, Samuel had learnt the letters of the alphabet and composed his first sentences. Learning to use sign language, writing, and reading was a difficult task, but he never complained and worked hard.

What she complained about was the state of Captain Jackson’s flat.

Bottles and glasses were everywhere, dirty plates filled the sink, and the stuffy air bothered her.

Perhaps she was a spoiled brat, but Samuel deserved a decent place to live in, and because she had given the captain her bracelet, she felt she had a right to request he not live in squalor.

That afternoon, she entered the flat, welcomed by a smiling Samuel.

She smiled back. The change in him was incredible.

His gaunt cheeks had filled up, and his gorgeous hair had a shiny hue that glinted with gold in the sunlight.

His skin was still a bit pale, and sadness lingered in his lion eyes, but her heart stuttered every time he showed his hunger to learn or when he smiled.

He stared at her as if she’d lit the stars, and while his adoration made her warm and fuzzy, she didn’t deserve it.

She removed her gloves, walking over a bottle. “Where is the captain?”

Samuel pointed to the sofa where Captain Jackson slept soundly, an empty glass in his hand.

Dobkins opened the window, not bothering to be silent as she stomped across the room. “He passed out and left you on your own.”

Samuel took his time before signing, “No police.”

A flare of annoyance swelled in Vivienne’s chest. “It doesn’t matter if the police aren’t around anymore.”

The circus was still in London. Cade’s obsession was to find Lion Boy—he’d put up a reward. A thousand pounds for who found Lion Boy.

The smell of cheroot permeated everything, and the dirty shirts draped on the chairs drove her mad.

Dobkins shook the captain’s arm. “Wake up, for heaven’s sake.”

Mumbling, the captain blinked his eyes open. The glass slid out of his fingers, but Vivienne snatched it before it smashed against the floor.

“What?” he drawled.

“This needs to stop.” Dobkins balled her fists on her hips.

Samuel withdrew to a corner, his amber eyes widening. Perhaps Dobkins’s raised voice disturbed him.

“What do you want?” the captain repeated, sitting up. One of his braces hung low on his arm.

Dobkins waved towards the room. “You can’t drink yourself into a stupor and leave Samuel on his own. The flat is a pigsty, and it stinks.”

He raked a hand through his dishevelled hair, yawning. “I don’t see where the problem is.”

“The problem is that this young man,” Dobkins said, “deserves better from you, and we paid a nice sum to take care of him.”

Samuel lowered his gaze, working his jaw.

Worry hung heavy in Vivienne’s chest. She glanced at Dobkins and gave her a slight shake of her head. Mentioning the payment might bother Samuel.

“And you should buy fresh food for him more often,” Dobkins continued. “For you as well. Have some dignity.” Her voice shook.

The captain’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. It didn’t escape Vivienne’s notice that he was still sitting. Not that she cared, but he was letting himself go.

“Wait a moment,” he said. “You recruited me for a job, and I did it, and I did it damn well. Samuel is alive and healthy. My life and my flat are my own business.”

Samuel hunched his shoulders as if he wanted to disappear.

“What life?” Dobkins gestured at the empty bottles. “The one you’re wasting away on cheap whisky and tobacco? Whisky doesn’t solve anything.”

“Nor does milk.”

Dobkins glowered at him. “You were an army surgeon once. What happened to you?”

“Her family happened!” The captain pointed to Vivienne. “They accused me of murder when I did everything to save that girl’s life.” He stood, his voice stronger. “Doctors can’t do miracles, not even for an earl’s daughter. Her death broke my heart, too.”

“I understand, Captain,” Vivienne said. “No one understands you better than I do. But you must move on and find your purpose again.”

Samuel had stepped back, almost into a corner, hugging himself and shaking.

She walked between the captain and Dobkins towards Samuel.

“You must clean up this flat.” Dobkins scrunched up her face at a dirty shirt.

The captain replied with some rambling, loud words, but Vivienne wanted to talk to Samuel.

“Let’s go to the bedroom while they talk.”

He obeyed her without hesitation, which she didn’t like. She didn’t want to become his new master. She shut the door to block the captain’s and Dobkins’s rising voices.

“Samuel.” She tilted her head to see his eyes, but he kept his gaze down. “Please look at me.”

Again, he obeyed her.

“What is it? Why are you so upset?” She gave him the time to answer.

He consulted his notebook and signed a few times, making mistakes, but she understood what he meant— the captain is kind to me .

Yes, but she suspected something else troubled him.

“The loud voices disturb you, don’t they?”

He nodded, gazing away.

“It’s understandable.”

He didn’t sign anything.

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed.”

He raised his gaze, but she didn’t understand if he was grateful for her words of comfort, or if she was too bold, intruding on his private feelings.

“Stop playing the victim,” Dobkins said from the other side of the door.

The sound of glass clinking came.

“I’m tempted to give you my nasty attitude, but you already have one,” the captain rebuked.

“Oh, dear.” She rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t mean to cause all this.”

Samuel skimmed the pages of his notebook before signing, “Who is the girl who died?”

“My sister Adele. She got sick with scarlet fever. My parents asked the captain to take care of her. The captain and my father were old friends. But Adele grew weak quite quickly and died.”

“Sorry,” he signed.

“My mother blames him. My father wasn’t convinced the captain was to blame, but between his grief and his love for my mother, who is grieving, he didn’t really do anything.” She stared at him. “If you’re uncomfortable, you should tell me. The captain told me you don’t sleep well.”

He shrugged.

So the problem wasn’t the communication. He had the means now to explain himself but didn’t want to. Or she wasn’t the right person for him to confide in.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Another shrug.

She sighed. She wouldn’t bother him if he didn’t want to talk to her.

“I’m just worried that Cade might barge in here and take you away from me,” she said in a low voice.

He sucked in a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering up. Then he searched his notes again and started to sign. “Cade isn’t the…” He wrote something on a page and showed it to her. “Ringmaster.” He signed again. “He’s the muscle, not the mind.”

“Cade isn’t the one who drugged you?”

He shook his head and signed, pausing a couple of times to check the alphabet. “Murdock drugged me. He’s the clever one. I grew up with him, following him and his minions from one place to another.”

“Goodness. We don’t even know what Murdock looks like. But no matter. You have us now. We’ll do everything we can to protect you from whoever tries to hurt you.” She stretched out a hand to touch him and hesitated.

He gently took her hand and held it as if he were handling a precious gem. Again, he gave her the adoring look that broke her heart.

Sudden silence came from the other side of the door. Samuel released her hand and averted his gaze.

She craned her neck. “Either they stopped fighting or they killed each other.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, which made her realise how rarely he smiled.

“Let’s see what happened, shall we?”