Page 23 of The Pureblood Daughter
“It is midday, miss,” Rose replies curtly. “You’ve slept half the day away.” The lady’s maid turns on her heel and sweeps from the room only to return a moment later with the gleaming silver breakfast tray, Adelina’s tonic swirling about the painted cup.
Rose sets the tray on Adelina’s bedside table before offering her the teacup. Adelina takes it, and the sight of the concoction makes her stomach turn. Rust-colored and lukewarm, the tonic smells of garlic and...
“Hawthorn,” Adelina says, her eyes widening as she looks up at Rose. “Garlic and hawthorn.” She lifts the cup to her nose and takes a delicate sniff, and the aroma affronts her.
“What’s the matter?” Rose quirks a brow, tipping her head to the side. “It’s the same as every morning, miss.”
Adelina can think of no clever way to dispose of it—not with Rose lurking over her like a hawk over a field mouse.
“It’s displeasing to me. Take it back to the kitchen.” Adelina offers Rose the cup, but the lady’s maid doesn’t move to take it.
“Miss, you really should—”
“I shan’t be told by my lady’s maid what I should and should not do. You overstep, Rose. Take the cup back to the kitchen. Now.”
She thrusts the cup into Rose’s hands, and the tonic spills over the rim, splashing onto the bedroom floor. Rose’s eyes widen, and Adelina is momentarily shocked. She’s never spoken to Rose in such a way, and she’s taken aback by the anger that swept through her.
“Rose, I—”
“Very well, miss.” Rose places the teacup back on the silver tray, her expression unreadable. “Can I bring you breakfast, or will you be eating in the dining room?”
“I’ll break my fast in my room. Thank you.”
Rose curtsies and then takes her leave, leaving Adelina still sitting up in bed.
What’s gotten into me?She squints against the bright sunlight, a sudden burst of irritation driving her to throw back the covers and cross the room in a huff. The draperies close with a snap, and the relief is instant.That’s better.Adelina presses her fingertips to her temples and lets out a sigh. An ache blossoms behind her eyes, and she grits her teeth against it.
If it’s not the shakes, it’s the shortness of breath. If it’s not a throbbing head, it’s fainting upon the ballroom floor.
Maybe this is mad.
The viscount has yet to answeranyof her questions, and despite her heightened senses, her refusal to take the tonic hasn’t yielded any positive results. Her hands still shake, her eyes are sensitive to the sunlight, and she’s losing her patience in a way she never has before.
Adelina takes a seat at her vanity and stares into the mirror. Her blue eyes are rimmed in purple, her veins just visible beneath her pale skin. She appears as though she has a wasting disease, but the illness has never caused her to have such a ghastly appearance before. Is this from refusing the tonic?
Rose enters the room, the silver tray burdened with breakfast delicacies. There’s honey cake, toast and butter, a small bowl of ripe red strawberries, and a cup of breakfast tea. Adelina rises and crosses the room, meeting Rose halfway.
“I’m famished,” she says, biting into a strawberry and following it up with a slice of toast. She has to stop herself from trailing Rose across the room, hungry as she suddenly feels. The lady’s maid sets the tray down gently on the vanity, then turns and curtsies.
“I’ll be back shortly, miss. Is there anything else?”
“No, Rose.” Adelina offers her a soft smile, hoping to make up for her brutish behavior. “Thank you.”
As soon as Rose steps from the room, Adelina makes for the breakfast tray. She can barely get a bite down her throat before she’s reaching for another. But the toast, the honey cake, the strawberries—it all tastes slightly... off. They’re still delightful, but not quite right, not quite how she expects them to taste. It’s like she’s come down with a cold and her palate hasn’t yet recovered.
She washes the muted flavors down with an equally unimpressive breakfast tea and has just set the teacup down when a soft knock sounds at her door.
“Are you finally up, dearest?” Lady Gray steps into the room, her blond hair swept up and off her neck, an emerald necklace from Lord Gray resting at the base of her throat. She crosses the floor, her pale gown trailing after her, and presses her lips to Adelina’s forehead. “You’re not warm. Are you feeling quite well?”
“I’m not feverish, Mama.” Adelina laughs lightly and pushes a wisp of dark hair off her forehead. “Just hungry. Did you find the butter”—she gestures to her toast crumbs—“distasteful this morning?”
Lady Gray quirks a brow and looks down at Adelina’s empty breakfast tray. “No, not at all.” Her gaze sweeps up and down Adelina’s body. “Your eyes, dear.” She steps closer and trails a thumb delicately beneath Adelina’s eye. “You don’t look yourself.” Her gaze sweeps again, and then her eyes narrow. “Tell me the truth.” Lady Gray takes Adelina’s hands firmly in hers. “Are you... with child?”
Laughter bursts unbidden from Adelina’s lips. “Good heavens, Mama. Of course not!”
With a relieved sigh, Lady Gray sits on the end of Adelina’s unmade bed. “Then what’s going on? You’re sleeping in, you’re not acting yourself, and you look ill. Something must certainly be the matter.”
As her mother stares up at her, gaze unwavering, Adelina debates telling her the truth. She’d love nothing more than to tell her about the viscount and his secret letters. But her mother would likely tell her father, and Adelina may very well find locks on her windows to keep Celeste out. No, it’s best to keep it to herself.
