thirty
Samuel finished writing down the menu for the next few days. Whatever he asked, Potter would provide it, spoiling him.
Following Captain Jackson’s suggestions on how to improve Vivienne’s health, he’d ordered plenty of tangerines, oranges, strawberries, and fresh fish. The captain had said to buy all the food that cured scurvy, but Samuel didn’t understand what the scurvy had to do with Vivienne’s condition.
He watched the darkness covering the cobbled street. Uneasiness crept over him like the shadows spreading over London. A few more hours, then Vivienne would be with him forever, and no one would hurt her.
Since he had finished the menu list, he replied to unimportant letters. Sleep would elude him anyway.
Bernard entered the study and bowed. “Sir, Lady Vivienne is here,” he signed.
“Vivienne?” Samuel shot up from his chair. “She is here?”
He followed Bernard and stopped in the entry hall. Vivienne, pale and panting, leant against Dobkins who seemed about to fall under Vivienne’s weight.
He rushed to Vivienne’s side. “The captain,” he signed to Bernard.
Vivienne’s eyes started to roll backwards into a faint, and a raspy noise came out of her mouth.
“We had to leave.” Dobkins sighed when he took Vivienne in his arms. “Dr. Tucker came. Lady Huntington sent for him. He threatened to lock Lady Vivienne up in an asylum if she didn’t change her mind about marrying you. He said Lady Vivienne had tamedhis lion.”
Samuel couldn’t sign to ask what the hell Dr. Tucker—the realisation hit him like a punch in the head. The shock caused his step to falter, and he had to thank his reflexes for not letting him fall.
Dr. Tucker had become Vivienne’s physician after the ice-skating disaster; he was an expert in potions and drugs; the circus didn’t perform anymore. Could he be Murdock?
He gathered Vivienne in his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
Her breathing sounded shallow. Once upstairs, he laid her in the bed in the room that was supposed to be hers after tomorrow.
Dobkins wasn’t faring better. She was wheezing, too.
“Describe Dr. Tucker,” he signed angrily.
“Short, bald, piggish eyes, yellow teeth, and he walks with a limp.”
Even if Samuel could have talked, he would be speechless at the moment. He should have suspected something.
“Murdock,” he signed with effort as if his fingers were tied together.
Dobkins’s cheeks paled further. “But…it can’t be.”
“Only I’ve seen him. We need evidence, but I think it’s him.”
“Good Lord.” Dobkins wrapped her arms around herself. “There should be a photograph of him inThe Timesof lastTuesday. I remember spotting him in the crowd of a group of Harley Street doctors for the inauguration of a new hospital in Chelsea.” Samuel pulled the call bell and waited for his servant.
“He’s like a disease that goes from one victim to another to find fresh energy.”
He caressed Vivienne’s cheek as a chilly shiver of fear crept down his back.
Murdock had been close to Vivienne for these past years, hurting her, and he was thousands of miles away and hadn’t done a damn thing to help her. The thug had found the worst possible way to punish him for leaving the circus.
Bernard arrived.
“Bring me last Tuesday’s issue ofThe Times.”
The butler left quickly.
“I’m here.” Captain Jackson strode into the room in his dressing gown.
