Duchess by Nicolette Andrews

Author:Nicolette Andrews [Andrews, Nicolette]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781505293982
Amazon: B00K91UA5A
Barnesnoble: B00K91UA5A
Publisher: Createspace
Published: 2014-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Idella summoned me after that. Once more she sent a secret messenger; this time it was a washing woman with red-stained hands and missing teeth. She said a woman had given her the note. I burned the note without reading it. Idella had ruined my reputation and stolen my son. I could only assume that she had lied to me as well. What benefit did Tomas have in lying to me? Tomas promised to help me save my son. He swore we could get him away from Idella’s clutches, and I believed him. I became his paramour after that. Many nights he snuck into my apartments and into my bed, and I welcomed him there. I drowned my grief in his arms. I was drunk on his kisses and his sweet words. Let Idella see me with him, and let her think I am doing her bidding when I am working to destroy her. I cared not who knew about our affair. I had lost everything: my husband, my son, my freedom. I knew eventually I would have to face Idella or else she would become suspicious.

Tomas took me to dinner parties every night of the week. I was his acknowledged paramour. No one seemed to care. I was treated kindly, perhaps better than I had been when I was Artor’s wife. Tomas helped me search for proof of Idella’s involvement in my husband’s murder, some cat’s-paw that she had used to turn the tide and bring the attack down upon Artor and the other soldiers, but everyone was dead but Hilliard, and he had disappeared as if he never existed.

Some weeks later, Prince Garrison was holding a fete for his son’s natality. I came with Tomas. He had bedecked me in emeralds and a gown of a similar hue. I wore my hair loose and flowing over my shoulders. I felt like a queen in my own right.

“You look beautiful, your grace,” Tomas purred in my ear as we marched our way up to greet Prince Garrison and his son. He nipped at my neck, and I batted him away playfully. I still had reservations about public affection, even if I was his recognized paramour.

We were next to meet the prince and his son. The boy was a scrawny child. He was older than Layton by a few years, but it was difficult to tell. He had large blue eyes and light golden hair. He was pale. I wondered if he got out in the sun often enough. It made me think of Layton playing in the garden at White Crest. Layton loved to sword fight and climb trees. This child looked as if he hardly ever saw the light of day. He shared little resemblance to his father other than the blue Raleban eyes he had inherited. His mother had been Jerauchian. The country of Jerauch was north of us in the mountains, where it was snowy nine months out of the year. The child had inherited his mother’s fair complexion and the blond hair their people were known for.

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