Page 29 of The Lady and the Lion (Victorian Outcasts #9)

twenty-seven

V ivienne wasn’t a pessimist. Not in this particular situation, at least.

But when Samuel had said that everything would go smoothly, he’d been na?ve. After the party was over and the guests had left, she’d had barely time to drink her purple potion before her parents summoned her.

So here she was, sitting in the drawing room with her father and mother without having any conversation with them. They were arguing with each other, and she waited for them to stop.

“Lyon is a robber baron,” Mother said, pacing along all the lengths of the room. “A nouveau riche !”

“An extremely rich nouveau riche .” Father stood next to the fireplace, as composed as Mother was agitated. “And he isn’t a robber baron but a tycoon.”

“I don’t care what you want to call him. He can’t marry Vivienne.”

“Why?” Vivienne and Father said together.

Mother glanced from one to the other. “Vivienne is too sick for starters. The last thing she needs is a wedding.”

Father huffed. “Exactly because she’s sick, she needs a wedding. Something to look forward to. If she is…” He didn’t need to end the sentence.

She understood him. Since she was dying, why not let her enjoy herself and marry Samuel?

Father rubbed his forehead. “What do you think, Vivienne? Is your health an impediment to the wedding?”

“No. I’m getting stronger.” It wasn’t true, but she believed Samuel. “And I like Mr. Lyon. He’s an interesting man.”

“He can’t speak,” Mother said.

“I’ll learn sign language.”

“You’re too weak.” Mother clenched her fists, shaking. “You can’t leave the house. Where are you going to live? New York City? You’ll be dead before you cross the ocean?—”

“Jane!” Father raised his voice. “That’s enough.”

“But it’s true.” Tears welled in Mother’s eyes. “Don’t you see it? She’s dying like Adele, in front of our eyes.”

Vivienne stared at her hands folded in her lap. Samuel made her doubt her grim future, but she wasn’t fully convinced. Her symptoms were real. She desperately wanted to believe him, hoping against hope.

Still, she could use her sickness to her advantage. “Then marrying Mr. Lyon is my last wish.”

Silence dropped in the room. Mother came to a halt, and Father stopped rubbing his forehead.

She tilted her chin up. “If it’s true I’m dying, then I want to spend my last months as Mrs. Lyon.”

“And I will honour your last wish.” Eyes shining, Father held her hand gently. “I have no objections to the marriage, especially if it makes you happy.”

“Thank you, Father. This is what I want.”

“No.” Mother pressed her lips hard. “I won’t let you. It’s madness.”

Father worked his jaw and straightened. “I’ve never imposed my will on this family.

I’ve always believed in having a discussion.

I’ve always listened to everyone and respected your opinion, Jane.

But this time, it’s different. Vivienne will marry Mr. Lyon, and I don’t want to hear a single complaint from you. ”

Mother paled, her eyebrows lifting to her hairline.

It was the first time Father had blatantly ordered Mother to do something…or not do something.

Mother regained her composure. “You’ll have her death on your conscience.” She ran out of the room, shaking with sobs.

Father didn’t go after her but sat next to Vivienne. “Forget what that know-it-all of a physician says. I want to know your opinion. Do you really feel you’re dying?”

A few hours ago, before her conversation with Samuel, she would have said yes without hesitation. But now she wasn’t as sure as she’d been that morning.

“Mother is too scared. She’s trapped in the past and wants all of us to be, as well. Sometimes I feel I don’t have much time to live, but I would be lying if I said that Mr. Lyon doesn’t spark my interest. He gives me hope.”

“You know very little of him.”

Not really . “Yes, but he possesses an aura of vitality that draws me to him.”

“He spoke to me. He is in a hurry to marry you. When he asked me for your hand, he went straight to the point, chose a date for the wedding, quickly discussed your dowry, and shook my hand as if the business was done.”

She smiled. “American tycoons.”

He barked a laugh. “I guess you’re right, but are you happy to have a quick wedding?”

“Yes. Soon. Just in case my strength diminishes, and he’s a busy man. He doesn’t like to wait.”

He grinned. “American tycoons.”

Samuel hated bureaucracy.

Not even his money could save him from filling and signing an endless number of documents at the Doctors Commons. The fact he was officially American—thanks to some forged documents acquired years ago—complicated the procedure. But finally, he had everything he needed to marry Vivienne immediately.

Her father had helped him navigate the intricacies of the marriage law, but her mother had barely talked to him.

He didn’t care. What he cared about was Vivienne.

He was eager to show her his beautiful house close to Buckingham Palace in the heart of Belgravia.

Not that he cared about closeness to the royal family, but the house had a stunning garden with tall, old trees and a great view from the top floor.

Also, he didn’t plan to stay in London forever.

He wanted to travel around the world with Vivienne once she recovered.

And he ought to introduce her to his household, which was today’s plan. She might want to hire her own maids.

He waited for Vivienne and Dobkins in the hallway of Huntington Hall. The wedding was a couple of days away, and time seemed to slog to a crawl.

Once he made a decision, he wanted things done as quickly as possible, although Vivienne wasn’t a business deal. His eagerness came from wanting to see her happy again.

“Samuel.” She went down the stairs, gripping the bannister for dear life.

Her steps were slow and uncertain, and she looked paler than the last time he’d seen her. Even her breathing sounded shallower.

A moment of panic seized him as the fear she was right, that she would die in a matter of months, sneaked into his heart. Something was killing her, yes, but he would be damned if he didn’t stop it. What was the point of being one of the wealthiest men in the world if he couldn’t help her?

Her smile lit up her sapphire eyes. “I’m sorry if I let you wait. Getting ready took me longer than expected.”

He shrugged and offered her his hand.

Dobkins beamed and went to hug him but stopped, hiding her joy behind a cough. “Mr. Lyon.” She bobbed a curtsy for the benefit of the footman and maid present, he guessed.

Vivienne barely took his hand before her mother came out of a room. In her austere black gown and black hairnet, she looked like a giant crow and just as cheerful.

He bowed to the countess, staring at her unwelcoming scowl.

“Mr. Lyon, I’m afraid my daughter can’t leave the house,” Lady Huntington said.

“I will go out,” Vivienne said.

“You can barely walk.” Lady Huntington sounded angry rather than worried. “I sent for Dr. Tucker. He will be here shortly.”

He quickly wrote on his notepad, “I’ll be careful. Vivienne won’t get tired.”

The countess flushed red. “You’re killing her!”

“Mother!” Vivienne wrapped her arm around his. “You’re exaggerating.”

Before the countess could add anything, he bowed and opened the door without waiting for the footman. He’d had enough of waiting.

“You can’t leave me.” Lady Huntington’s voice came from behind him.

Vivienne paused and faced her. “I’m not your responsibility anymore. Samuel is going to take good care of me.”

You bet . He nodded.

Lady Huntington clamped a hand over her mouth and ran up the stairs in a flutter of black fabric.

As much as he didn’t approve of the countess’s suffocating love for her daughter, her pain was palpable, and he didn’t enjoy seeing her distraught.

“I apologise for my mother’s words.” Vivienne needed his help to sit in the carriage, her breathing short. Dobkins followed.

“Don’t apologise.” He didn’t care about what her mother said. “I’m not offended.” He started to enter the carriage after Dobkins when a movement caught his eye.

A short man with a top hat and in a dark suit pivoted when Samuel craned his neck to take a better look. The man hailed a hansom and vanished. Samuel could have sworn the man was limping.

“Is something the matter?” Vivienne asked.

“There was a man on the other side of the pavement. I was sure he was about to cross the street in our direction but changed his mind so quickly he seemed to be fleeing from something.”

She gazed around. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“Never mind.” He climbed into the carriage, troubled by something he couldn’t point out. “You are quite pale.”

She lowered her gaze, and he didn’t like it.

“The captain will take a look at you,” he said before holding her hand and stroking her fingers.

“Is the captain all right?” Dobkins said.

“He’s been sober for five years, and it shows.”

Dobkins squeezed his hand. “It’s so good to see you, and I’m looking forward to seeing the captain—” She composed herself. “Well, he doesn’t need to know that.”

He chuckled.

Vivienne brightened when the carriage stopped in front of the house. “Is this your house? Heavens, it’s huge. How many servants did you hire?”

Speaking of which. “There’s something I have to tell you.” He helped her out of the carriage.

“Yes?” She put both hands on his shoulders, and he held her by the waist to help her out.

When she stepped onto the pavement, she stood so close to him he got lost in her sapphire eyes. Beautiful, but for the missing spark of vitality he desperately wanted to see.

She leant into him when they walked to the front door.

He forced himself to focus. “My household includes people who were former servants but were dismissed because of physical problems. I found some of them in the streets or in circuses similar to Cade’s.”

She paused. “Are there more awful circuses like Cade’s?”