Read Her Mystery Duke for Free Online

vise closing over her heart.
    “Yes, I am here.” She heard the weariness in her voice.
    He opened his eyes and seemed to stare through her. He
grasped her hand with a surprisingly tight grip. “You mustn’t run from me
again.”
    His raspy tone carried such desperation. The vise in her
chest tightened.
    “I won’t.” What else could she say?
    He squeezed her hand relentlessly, threatening to crush her
bones. “You must promise.”
    His pain resonated in every part of her. Burning emotion
pressed on her throat so hard, she could barely breathe. “Rest, David.”
    Her strangled voice sounded like a stranger’s.
    Still holding on as though his life depended on it, he gave
her hand a shake. “Promise.”
    This time his tone held the steely determination of a
command. And that, even more than before, seemed to speak of his desperation.
    It was so easy to say, “Of course I promise.”
    “It was my fault. All my fault.” The anguish in his voice
resounded, savage and raw.
    Her eyes began to burn. His image grew a bit fuzzy. What
foolishness. She didn’t even know this man. What were his sad little dramas to
her?
    “It was all so damned, bloody useless.” He choked on the
words and then coughed weakly.
    “No, no, it was both of our faults.” The words came tumbling
out of her mouth before she could halt them.
    “I’ll be a more constant lover.”
    “Of course you will.”
    “I shall arrive early every night. Early enough to visit
your bed.”
    “Of course you will,” she managed to say.
    “Will you welcome me?”
    “Yes.”
    “You were correct. I was being too…inflexible. We shall have
children, as you wanted. You cannot leave me then…” As his voice drifted off
his eyes closed and he seemed to fall limp against the pillow, though he’d been
lying there the whole time. His mouth fell open and he gave a low groan then
coughed as his hand slipped away, a heavy, horrible weight in her lap.
    Her body sagged with it. Wet sadness spilled on her cheeks.
Her father’s frightened eyes were burned into her memory. That last day here at
the garret. The day after he’d come at her with the knife. The orderlies were
due to arrive any moment to take him. He’d known it. He’d been so afraid,
gripping her hand. A sob tore up from the depths of her. Its very violence
startled her out of her reverie.
    What the devil was the matter with her?
    What good did it ever do to dwell on that terrible day?
She’d done what the doctors had recommended. For her safety. Papa’s madness had
simply reached the point where she couldn’t attend to him on her own. Their
relations had abandoned them and they couldn’t afford to hire any servants. She
had done what she had to. Dr. Edmonton had been happy to help her find a
suitable, affordable place for Papa in exchange for a little agreeableness in
bed on her part.
    It didn’t bear dwelling on.
    She swiped at her face with the blanket’s edge. Then she
pulled it up over David in one brisk tug.
    The past was in the past. Dead. What she needed to do was
get something written for Mr. Ratherford while David was sleeping and she had
time. Jeanne stood and pushed everything else from her mind.
     
    * * * *
     
    Jeanne sat at her desk, waiting for the words to come. Hours
passed and she had nothing to show for it but wisps of unformed, meaningless
vignettes. Just as they had been every day since Bernard had taken his leave of
her.
    She let the quill drop from her hand. It fell to the page
and rolled, leaving a feathery line upon the parchment. The lamp still burned
brightly. She shouldn’t waste the oil. She should extinguish it and go to bed.
    A man was sleeping in her bed. A stranger.
    She went to his side once more.
    “Thérèse…”
    She laid a hand on his forehead. He felt warm but no worse.
Yet how would she really know? The hand was not a very accurate gauge. She
chewed her lip.
    He was shivering so hard now that it pained her to watch.
She had been sleeping on the