Purchased by the Duke by Vivian Murdoch

Author:Vivian Murdoch [Murdoch, Vivian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vivian Murdoch

Chapter 19

Kitty

* * *

Another week later

* * *

I crack my eyelids open, squinting at the bright sun filtering through the room. Has it always been so ghastly in this room? For some reason, it feels more blinding than normal, driving up the desire to hide under the covers and go back to sleep.

This time, I don’t even reach out to stroke the cool spot where the duke should be. By now, I know he’ll be gone, off to do God knows what. Will he be in the house? Will he be away doing whatever it is that dukes do? One never knows.

Each day, however, is a new chance to remind myself that I’m just the mistress. I hold no sway over him. Then again, even as a wife, I wouldn’t presume to control him. I much prefer him to be the one in command.

Rolling my shoulders, I groan, peeling the sheets away from my body. They’re damp, wet with my sweat. The stench nearly chokes me as I force myself out of bed and over to a basin to splash cool water on my face.

But I don’t want to move. Sodden or not, they still feel more inviting than the air that slams into me, causing my skin to itch. Could I be sick? My hand creeps up my throat, closing around as I remember the handkerchief.

Could it be that I’ve somehow contracted consumption by clinging to the one part of my sister I’m allowed to have? With trembling fingers, I open a drawer and pull out the bit of fabric. The blood is still there, bright red splotches.

Tears dot my eyes as I run the pads of my thumbs across the bits of vermillion. My poor Josephine. The first time she was sick, it nearly tore at my heart. Scarlet fever is what the doctor said. My only saving grace was that I, too, had it as a child and was thus immune.

Such misfortune to befall our house that she survives only to succumb to consumption. It claws at my insides, knowing I can’t be there for her, for Mother. As a whore, even one to a duke, I’m no longer welcome in that society and am forced to muck about with the Demimonde instead.

Though I find freedom there, I’d throw it all away to return to the respectable life I once had and knowing that I could be there to aid my sister. And now, the irony that I might soon join her in this malady doesn’t sit well at all.

“Good morning, Miss!” Alice’s chipper voice breaks through the spell, startling me.

The handkerchief drops from my fingers, fluttering to the floor. My movements are slow, sluggish, as if time is moving in reverse. As I go to pick it back up, my lady’s maid sets down her tray and whisks it up before I can get to it.

“Allow me, Miss-” her tone changes as she spots the blood. “Are you ill, Miss? Shall I go fetch the physician?” Pausing, she squints her eyes for a moment, her head cocking in disbelief.

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