four
Vivienne 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 wasone 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?”
