Page 42 of Becoming Lady Dalton
“Where are you taking me, Viola?” Sam asked.
“To Mayfair.”
“Thought I wasn’t good enough to meet your grandmother.” His earlier gratitude forgotten, Samuel slumped resentfully in the corner, shaking in pain. The carriage springs were broken, as was common amongst cabs, and each bump and sway jolted him.
“You’re not. We’re going to my sister’s townhouse. No one lives there yet. I’ll draw you a bath tonight and see you settled comfortably. In the morning, I’ll inquire about hiring a nurse to stay with you when I cannot be there.”
“Are you that ashamed of me, wife?”
“Samuel, I…”Yes.“Of course not. If I were ashamed of you, I’d have rejected you on the street.”The way you told yourself you would, if he ever dared to come for you. But when the moment came, you were weak.“I need time, that’s all.”
Time, he didn’t have. And if it had been Reed watching her from the shadows, she might not have much left, either.
22
Dearest sister.
I pray you are well and happily situated with your beloved earl. Give my love to Edward. The townhouse renovations are substantially complete. The roof is repaired, the floors polished, the scullery refitted and the glazier has installed new windows. I have been to the goldsmiths to request samples for your approval. Next stop—the drapers. On solid advice, I have chosen the satin over the brocade. Lord Dalton’s advice, to be precise.
It is with great joy I anticipate celebrating the Christmas holiday at Briarcliff. Grandmother and I will bring Matthew in the coach on the twentieth, if that suits. I wonder if I might trouble you for an advance on my allowance to secure gifts and supplies for Matthew before he departs for school.
Your loving sister,
Viola.
Viola,darling,
Lord Dalton is still in the picture, is he?
Of course, you may have money if you need it. I have more pin money than I could spend in a lifetime—take anything you need. I have sent a letter of credit to Edward’s banker in London.
Is there any news of Richard?
Yours,
Harper
Dearest Harper,
Thank you for making this season extra bright.
No, no one has any news of Richard. I expect he’s holed up with one of his unsavory friends—if there are any who will tolerate him now that he’s officially no longer the heir.
With love,
Viola
“Thirty pounds? Again?”
The man behind the marble counter pinned her with a bespectacled, suspicious look.
“Yes, sir. It’s Christmas,” she added, by way of explanation. As though two hundred pounds was a reasonable amount for any one person to spend on a boy, or an entire family. It was more money than Viola had seen in her entire lifetime, prior to coming to London. But the agency had required a special fee forabsolute discretion, and the first woman had quit after a few hours of dealing with Samuel’s rotten temper. Then, there was the doctor who’d confirmed what everyone already knew. Samuel was dying. He might last until Christmas, or the new year. No longer. She must endure a few weeks more of this damnable subterfuge, which Viola hated with all her heart. All they could do was keep him comfortable—or stab him in the chest with a sharp blade.
“It will allow the air in,” he advised with a shrug, as if dispensing gruesome advice was a daily occurrence. “On the other hand, it may kill him faster.”
“No swords,” Samuel gasped as blood stained the new bedclothes Viola had purchased with her sister’s money. There had been no point in buying good quality, for she would burn them as soon as they became too stained. In the meantime, daily washing was another expense. Plus, there was food to purchase and coal to secure to keep him warm alone in the parlor of the empty townhouse.
Viola prayed it would be shorter. To relieve Samuel’s suffering, of course. Not because the strain of keeping up appearances while taking money from the people she loved best in the world was killing her by inches—that would be unconscionable.
