The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne by Natasha Blackthorne Read Free Book Online Page B

reminding him of the need for self-medication. He took the half-full bottle of whisky from where it was wedged between his knees and put it to his lips and tilted it back, taking a swig. Finally, he put the bottle on his night table then lay back on the bed, waiting for the liquor to quiet the searing pain between his temples.
    He closed his eyes, willing sleep to claim him.
    A myriad of images flooded his mind, each appearing then going on its way to free space for the next, until one came with such vivid details, such clear edges.
    Too clear, too sharp.
    He took a deep breath and willed it away. But he could see, as well as though he’d gone back in time, his last day in this chamber as a boy.
     
    The servants had been packing his things.
    Aunt Frances had turned her stern expression upon him, her gray eyes like ice as she reminded him for the thousandth time that he must excel at his studies, his appearance must be perfection…
    “And for God’s sake, do not forget all your elocution lessons! Don’t shame me by going about spouting gibberish like a savage little Scot,” she said.
    His mother, who had sat on his bed, sobbing softly into her handkerchief, looked up, her pale blue eyes red-rimmed. “Oh, Jamie love, you will forget all about me! I know you will!”
    He hadn’t known what to say. Her rising hysteria had put a hard, cold knot in his stomach. It was difficult enough to face going away to school in what amounted to a foreign land.
    She spread her arms wide. “Oh, Jamie, come here and show me you will no’ forget me!”
    He had stared at her, frozen. His heart pounding against his rib cage like thunderous horse hooves on paving stones.
    Aunt Frances gave him a sharp nudge in the side. “What an unnatural son. Go to your mother.”
    His knees unlocked and he managed to approach his mother, to take her outstretched hands into his own, feeling their iciness. “I won’t forget you, Mother.”
    Three months later, she had left Landbrae, wedding the too newly widowed Earl of Fisher and going to live with him at his estate in the Highlands. Six months later, she presented him with a healthy son.
    Aunt Frances had been livid, writing a scathing letter to James, letting him know that Sorcha Blayne had been disowned. He was not to contact his mother. Ever.
     
    He’d learnt then the importance of reputation. The other students had attacked him mercilessly over the matter, calling his mother a Gaelic whore. Certain masters had set him impossible standards and exacting punishments. He’d borne it all and met those standards as best he could, and suffered the punishments without complaint. What else could he do but work hard to rebuild a new reputation all his own?
     
    * * * *
     
    Sunny reclined on her bed, and she was just beginning to float.
    This was the only time they allowed her any peace. When she’d been given an extra dose of opiates.
    Mrs. Tibbs always indulged in wine when she believed Sunny was incapacitated, and slept in the trundle in Sunny’s dressing chamber. But Sunny had learnt to fight the drug-induced slumber. To gain extra moments of freedom. Alone. She waited for the relief to overcome her. But tonight she remained agitated.
    I am broken…just broken now!
    Satisfaction sang in her blood at how she had flung the words at Dr. Meeker. She was a bad patient. Hopelessly wicked. He was wasting his time and effort on her.
    But would he ever listen?
    No!
    She hugged herself. She was still floating. Or was it flying? She didn’t like this sensation. She hated the opiates. But nothing else would calm her. Dr. Meeker said they were absolutely necessary, along with the other.
    The treatment tomorrow would be terrible, but there were hours between then and now.
    The clock chimed. The sound seemed abnormally loud and she started.
    Seven chimes rang. Her heart took forever to slow its beat.
    How long until she recovered? Not just from tomorrow’s “treatment,” but how long until she recovered her