A few hours ago, before her conversation with Samuel, she would have saidyeswithout 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!”
