twenty-six
The day of the garden party was sunny, with a fresh breeze carrying the scent of flowers. A good start for Vivienne.
Mother had drastically changed the garden, eradicating all those plants she believed to be poisonous or unhealthy, and planted everything Dr. Tucker had told her to be beneficial. That doctor had lasted longer than any other. If she didn’t believe he was very competent, her own recovery being clear proof, she would think he’d put a spell on Mother.
Still, walking in the sunlight and feeling its warmth on her cheeks was wonderful. She followed the elegant flight of a butterfly fluttering its blue wings over the bushes of white daisies. Before her illness started, she hadn’t appreciated how important little moments like a butterfly’s flight were.
Guests wandered through the manicured hedges and bushes, going from one marquee to another. Each gazebo offered a different type of refreshment, from hors d’oeuvres to smoked fish and caviar. A small orchestra played in a corner, making her smile for the first time in…she didn’t remember.
She had to thank Father for her entire presence at the garden party. Mother wouldn’t have let her stay for more than five minutes. It was a miracle that Mother had agreed to haveso many guests in the garden, although the people were evenly distributed not to form large groups that were unhealthy.
Of course, Vivienne had to take her potions religiously. All the concoctions Dr. Tucker prepared for her were part of her day. Syrups, mixtures, and drops marked her day like a clock. Her stomach was filled with more drugs than food.
She knew when Samuel had arrived from the quick stir going through the guests.
Excited whispers echoed from the gazebos as Samuel stepped into the garden. Ladies stared at him with boldness. Gentlemen regarded him with respect.
Another thing that had changed about him was his confidence. His presence demanded attention and obedience. An aura of authority surrounded him. His lion gaze helped give him a hint of menace that added to his charm.
He surveyed the crowd with disinterest but bowed at every introduction to a lady and shook hands with the gentlemen. Father was glowing as he talked to him.
When Samuel’s gaze fell on her, it ignited like warm brandy. Her chest heaved as her breath sped up. For the first time in years, she’d felt desirable, a sensation she’d completely forgotten.
She returned the stare. Father had told her he would welcome Samuel as a suitor.
He strode across the garden with predatory menace, an attitude new to her. The man in front of her was a warrior who didn’t care about anyone’s opinion.
“Vivienne.” His signing was fluid and elegant with a certain…smoothness, almost a lilt?
“Samuel,” she whispered, worried someone might hear her using his Christian name.
“I need to talk to you.”
Years ago, he wouldn’t have been so direct. Not that she was complaining.
She gazed around, a cold shiver going through her. “Behind those hedgerows. No one will see us.”
He offered her his arm. “Perfect.”
She slipped her arm through his. The contact with his strong arm brought her back years to when they’d spent the afternoons studying and learning sign language together.
Maybe Father was right about Samuel’s energy being contagious because a shot of warmth coursed through her veins, and for a moment, her illness didn’t weigh her down.
They walked through other promenading couples and footmen balancing full trays of food and drinks on their hands.
He signed quickly. “I’ll go straight to the point. What has happened to you?” His eyebrows knit with concern.
“My body has trouble flourishing again. The situation is more serious than I let you believe in my letters. I didn’t want you to worry.”
He paused behind the hedgerow. In the shadow, his frown was deeper. “What does your physician say?”
“He tried everything he could and likely saved my life after the incident. I got better, but it didn’t last. And I think…” Emotion choked her.
Telling him she feared she would eventually die terrified her, which didn’t make sense because she’d come to accept her fate. Death didn’t scare her, but now, standing so close to Samuel and the vibrant vitality he radiated, she didn’t want to accept her fate. She wanted to get well.
“You think what?” he prompted her.
“I think I’m dying,” she whispered.
