Page 76 of His Haunted Duchess
His thoughts swirled like a river after a heavy rain. His mother’s voice floated over the mental slurry.
“What happened? Do we have any idea of the cause?”
“A package arrived from Lady Olivia—early this afternoon. Lady Caroline said it was a gift from her aunt—a special herb. She made some for herself and the duke, and they were to drink it in their tea.”
The tea! But if he had drank it then—Caroline! Where was Caroline? Black spots speckled his hazy vision.
“Lady Olivia?” Esther’s voice was filled with amazement. “Why would she have sent such a package?”
Carlyle shook his head.
“I can hardly imagine that the package came from her—not if it endangered her own kin.”
Frederic fought against the torpor, pushing back towards consciousness. A heavy hand pushed him back to the pillows.
“He needs rest. The poison will work its way out of his system.”
He must find Caroline. He must—he must tell?—
Frederic closed his eyes and for the second time in so short a period, resigned himself to thick darkness.
CHAPTER 23
“Oughtn’t we to say something—to do something?”
“I don’t know. I—I didn’t think this would happen. I’m quite unprepared.”
“Perhaps the monkey would cheer her up?”
“Or prove a distraction at least. But she seemed—she seemed fine when I checked on her earlier.”
Caroline could hear them speaking in whispers outside her door. Or rather, the door that had been hers. The room was so small now—so vacant and deserted. Oscar would be wondering where she was. He, perhaps, would be the only one.
“Has there been no message? Has no one asked after her?”
“No. None. Perhaps they don’t even know she’s gone. Ought we to tell them?”
“She’s a duchess, Winifred. I’m sure they know where she went. Besides, it wouldn’t be our place to interfere.”
Caroline hung her head miserably. If only she could drown out her ears, drown out—everything. Dark, thorny tendrils of despair caressed the edges of her damp handkerchief. She would have been better off, so many years ago, if she hadn’t fought, hadn’t clawed her way back to life.
Why hadn’t she abandoned the frantic instinct to escape and sunk into oblivion with the rest of her kin? She would have felt less, perhaps, suffered less, if she had joined them.
Frederic— She stopped herself. From this day forward, from this very minute, she must train her thoughts to turn away from him, to leave him behind, lest the knife of his memory twist too hard within her breast. They—the cursed lady and Duke Frederic Grandon—were irrevocably separated.
After what had happened, she would hardly be welcome back at Highcastle. The curse had proved what she had always feared—too strong. She put her face in her hands. If only she had kept her distance—kept appropriate space between herself and the duke—then none of this would have happened.
“She needs time, that’s all,” said Aunt Olivia. “Time to recuperate.”
“Yes, that would be best—and she’ll be safe here.”
Their steps faded down the hallway, leaving her alone in the silence. Oh, that her mind would cease its turning and her heart its cries and leave her in peace, as well!
She had nearly killed him. The memory of his still, broken form splayed out on the table like a leak from a wine bottle. Her heart cried out like a wounded wolf, tracing the places the curse had painted in her mind. The limpid lifelessness of his hands. The shriek and moan of Esther and the cook. Carlyle and Esther supporting his limp form.
She had new nightmares now in cycle with the horrors she had known since childhood.
Caroline stood, walked to her window, and drew her curtain, shutting out the early morning light. Day and night had no meaning to her now. How long had she been here? She could not tell. How long would she be? Until the end—until the curse finally caught her and relieved her of the burden called life.
