Her hand quivered, and she pricked herself with the needle. A ruby drop of blood blossomed on her fingertip. She sucked it before it stained the needlework. The blood itself didn’t coverthe flavour of the countless potions she took every day; their metallic tastes remained in her mouth forever.
“I hope you’ll enjoy yourself at the garden party,” Father said. “The fresh air will do you good.”
Not according to Mother, whose list of things harmful to Vivienne’s health had never changed.
Mother glowered. “I’ve never been convinced that fresh air is healthy.”
Father ignored her. “After your complete recovery, all I want is to see you married and settled, and finally happy.”
So did Vivienne.
Samuel stood still as Richard,his valet, helped him dress for the Earl of Huntington’s garden party. His residence at the hotel had been a short one, since he’d bought a fully detached house in Belgravia and filled it with his household staff, people he’d chosen personally when he was in the Americas.
Richard was missing a few fingers on both hands—a tragic carriage accident while he’d worked as the valet of a rich businessman—so buttoning and tying Samuel’s suit required a bit of time. But he didn’t care. The accident that claimed Richard’s fingers had also shaken Samuel deeply.
If he hadn’t employed him, Richard would live on the streets. And he’d proved to be a damn good valet.
All his servants were knowledgeable in sign language, something he was proud of. He’d hired tutors to teach them, and they’d been eager to learn…with some exceptions, like his footman.
“All done, sir.” Richard brushed Samuel’s dark jacket.
“Thank you,” he signed, smelling, as Richard moved away, the lingering scent of the shaving cream.
A knock came on the door. “Sir?” It was his housekeeper, Mrs. Foster.
He nodded to Richard who said, “Come in. Mr. Lyon is ready.”
“Sir…” Mrs. Foster took a step in, stopped, then took another step.
Her tentativeness signalled it had to be bad news.
“Tell me,” he signed.
She stepped closer, and the sunlight lit her deformed face. One side was pulled up as if an invisible force pushed it, making her face asymmetrical. After working as a maid for years, her former employer had refused to promote her to housekeeper due to her looks. She’d then found employment as the Monstrous Woman in a circus similar to Cade’s, and when he found her, he hadn’t hesitated to offer her a job.
Mrs. Foster lifted her chin. “Sir, it’s about William.”
Samuel exhaled. “What now?”
“I found a few pieces of our silverware in his bedroom.”
“I’ll talk to him. Again.”
“Sir, if I may, perhaps we should consider dismissing him.”
He shook his head. He wouldn’t give up so easily on someone who needed help.
While he didn’t regret having hired Richard, Mrs. Foster, and other people who had been as desperate for a chance as he’d been, William, his footman, was another matter. The young man had a compulsion for thievery that had granted him more than one brush with the police.
A few minutes later, he knocked on William’s door and entered, Mrs. Foster behind him. “What have you done this time?”
“Not what it seems, boss.” William held up his hands. “I just wanted to test how safe your safe was, sir, if you’ll excuse the play on words. A matter of research, not thievery, I promise.”
“Give Mrs. Foster the silver, William.” He pointed a finger at him before signing, “This is the last time. No more stealing in this house.”
William bowed his head as the perfect penitent. “Absolutely, sir. It’s that since you’re about to get married?—”
“Are you, sir?” Mrs. Foster said at the same time as Samuel signed, “What are you talking about?”
