Page 4 of The Lady and the Lion (Victorian Outcasts #9)

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V ivienne had never disobeyed her mother, not even that time when she’d ordered her to stay home during a particularly freezing winter so she would not catch a cold, or when she’d ordered her to stop taking walks into the woods because woods were full of germs, or when she’d forbidden her to eat street food because it wasn’t hygienic.

She couldn’t think of a single episode when she’d blatantly opposed her mother or father. Especially after Adele’s death. Her parents had been so distraught, she hadn’t dared cause them any pain.

Maybe that was the reason why her legs shook so hard and her mouth tasted bitter as she strode along the pavement the day after meeting Lion Boy. Her pulse was galloping as well because she was about to do something her mother didn’t simply disapprove of but utterly despised.

Lion Boy’s sadness had been so intense as to be contagious.

His pain had screamed injustice. His eyes had begged for help.

She wouldn’t be able to look at her reflection in the mirror if she didn’t do something to help him.

Any decent human being would want to help him.

Almost any… She hoped Captain Jackson was one of those decent people.

Or, if he wasn’t, that he would be tempted by a good offer.

Dobkins hurried to match her strides, sidestepping people in a hurry. “This is madness. There must be another way to help that young man.”

“You were right. Freeing Lion Boy is complicated.”

But Captain Jackson could be the solution. And that was pretty much her whole plan. What would happen if the captain agreed—or disagreed—was anyone’s guess.

“This area isn’t safe,” Dobkins said, gazing around. “Granted the captain still lives here.”

“You sound like Mother.”

She prayed he still lived here. And Dobkins was right. The captain’s flat was close to one of the poorest areas of London.

There were open cracks on the front doors and walls of the buildings. Some windows were broken, and bangs boomed from the blast furnaces. But the cobbled streets were nice and smooth without potholes, and the pavements weren’t crowded with footpads. Still, she wasn’t in Mayfair anymore.

She paused before knocking on the captain’s door and made sure that the hood of her cloak covered her face.

If someone recognised the Earl of Huntington’s daughter seeking the man her mother had spent the past years smearing the reputation of, a scandal would spread like fire.

Gossip didn’t bother her. Her mother’s wrath was more concerning.

But the worst thing would be that she wouldn’t be able to help Lion Boy.

Dobkins searched the street. “The captain will never agree to help Lion Boy. He cares only about himself.”

“Maybe, but I don’t need him to care. I need him to accept my money.”

“What money?”

Vivienne didn’t have time to answer as the door swung inwards and the captain swept into view. His jet-black hair was dishevelled, and his black eyes were bloodshot. Not promising.

He scowled. “What the bloody hell do you want?”

“Have some respect.” Dobkins jabbed a finger at him.

“What the hell do you want?” He scowled harder.

Vivienne swallowed. “I need your help about a delicate matter.”

He laughed, a croaky, deep laugh that turned into a coughing fit. “Go away.” He started to shut the door, but she blocked it, slipping her foot inside.

She grimaced when the door slammed against her toes. “I’ll pay you.”

“My lady,” Dobkins whispered. “Remember what I told you about making promises we couldn’t keep?”

She ignored her. “I’m serious.”

“How much?” He folded his arms over his chest.

“A lot. I’ll explain the details if you let me talk.”

“Talk.”

“Inside.”

“Of course.” He scratched his beard. “Where are my manners?”

“You’ve never had them,” Dobkins said.

He gave her a mocking bow. “You don’t want anyone to see you here.”

“I don’t make the rules.” Vivienne held his stare.

“Saucy wench.” He held the door open and waited for them to brush past him before shutting the door with a kick.

Flakes of paint dropped off the door it rattled so hard.

The room would have been cosy if not for the heaps of crumpled clothes scattered everywhere, the dirty glasses, and the ashtray filled to the rim with cheroots’ butts.

There had to be no oxygen in the room, because the smell of tobacco saturated the air to the point of enveloping everything in a yellow mist.

“Welcome.” He spread his arms.

Dobkins tiptoed inside. “We’re going to catch cholera here. Mark my words.”

A deep crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Apologies, but my personal suite in Buckingham Palace is being renovated.” He pointed at the door. “You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

“No, please.” Vivienne held up a hand. “I really need your help.”

“Why me?” His voice didn’t sound sharp.

“Because…” How could she say, ‘ Rumour has it you’re a thief, ’ nicely? “You have experience with this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” He propped an elbow on the mantelpiece overloaded with empty bottles, bringing attention to the fact he wasn’t wearing a jacket and his shirtsleeves were rolled up.

“Lion Boy.”

“For hell’s sake.” He threw a hand up.

“I have no idea how to help him. He’s either locked up in his cage or shackled to a chain.”

“They chain him?” A hint of shock crept into his voice.

“We saw him. He has a shackle around his ankle and a long chain. They treat him like a prisoner. He doesn’t want to be there. Dobkins, I’m right, am I not?”

Dobkins nodded. “The young man is desperate and afraid.”

“Right.” Captain Jackson scratched his chin. “And how does a former army surgeon fit into this situation?”

“You know how to pick a lock, don’t you?” Vivienne asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why would I know how to pick a lock?”

“There are rumours about you having broken into Garrard’s.” Vivienne didn’t move when Dobkins tried to pull her towards the door.

“Are there now?” He chuckled bitterly. “Ridiculous.”

“I know my mother wasn’t fair to you, and even my father wouldn’t be happy to know I’m here. But I’m only interested in helping that young man. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like an animal. No one does. And he’s so desperate and hopeless…I must help him.”

He rubbed his eyes, making them redder. “Let’s say I get him out, hypothetically speaking, what then?

Where do you plan to hide him? You’re aware the police will search for him, aren’t you?

Cade won’t let him go easily. The boy raised by lions is the main attraction of the circus.

Cade will hunt him down. Lion Boy needs a place to stay hidden, and I’m not even considering the challenge of taking care of someone who’s been locked up for the best part of his life.

If he gets caught again, he’ll be broken. Dead.”

Vivienne wrung her hands. She hadn’t thought about all the details, but the captain was right. Taking Lion Boy to her house was out of the question. She couldn’t think of anyone she trusted to keep him hidden. She had to find a way to keep him safe. Why hadn’t she thought about that?

“He could stay here with you,” she said in a low tone.

Captain Jackson put his hands on his hips. “Are you barking mad?”

“Do not speak to her that way!” Dobkins said. “You will show respect when you talk with Lady Vivienne. I don’t care how long you’ve known her?—”

“Since she was a child in cloth diapers, and who later got herself into trouble for wanting to save wild animals,” he said none too gently. “Not much has changed.”

“She’s a lady, and you’ll treat her as such.” Dobkins jutted out her chin.

He muttered something Vivienne didn’t catch. “So everything is on my shoulders,” he said. “I have to take him out and hide him here , taking all the risks. And for what?”

“I’ll give you my diamond bracelet,” Vivienne said.

Dobkins gasped.

“It’s worth thousands of pounds. And I’ll help you take care of him.

I’ll come here every day and do everything I can to help you.

” She would need another plan for that, but he didn’t need to know.

“You’re a physician. You care about people.

I know you do.” She didn’t mention Adele.

That would be a low blow. “You wouldn’t let that poor young man suffer at the hands of a cruel man, and you’ll know what to do to make him feel better. ”

He lit a cheroot. She nearly gagged at the smell.

“Why are you so desperate to help him?” he asked.

“Because I saw his pain, his desperation, and his hopelessness. I’m sure he doesn’t believe anyone will ever help him.

Please, Captain. We’ll keep him hidden until the police stop searching for him.

The circus should leave London soon, anyway, and if we cut his hair, give him a bath, and decent clothes, no one will recognise him. ”

That was a stretch, but in new clothes and well groomed, he wouldn’t attract attention.

He opened the window and blew out a puff of smoke. She breathed deeply as fresh air rushed inside. He stood there smoking for a few long moments without looking at her. The only movement was that of his fingers dropping the ashes.

She slumped her shoulders. If he didn’t want to help her, then she would do it herself. Somehow, she would.

“We’re wasting time, my lady. The captain doesn’t care about anyone but himself and his liquor.” Dobkins took her arm. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll do it,” he said, curling up his upper lip in derision, either because he agreed to help or because she was here asking a favour.

She exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Captain. Thank you.”

He thankfully put out the cheroot. “But you’re going to help me once he’s here, as you said. And if he’s trouble, I’ll kick him out, and you’ll find him somewhere else to stay, and at the first sign of trouble with the police, I leave with or without him.”

“What a lionheart,” Dobkins said.

Vivienne offered him her hand. “I promise.”

He shook her hand. “And I want the damn bracelet.”

“Of course.” She turned towards the door, but he called her.

“It wasn’t Garrard’s but Harvey & Gore’s.” He had the audacity to smirk.