Free Pascale Duguay by Twice Ruined Page A

events, but to no avail. Sighing, she put on her grey dress. At least, its high neckline would cover most of the marks. She brushed her hair and twirled the mass into a bun at the nape of her head.
    For a moment, as she contemplated going downstairs, she was tempted to hide away in the bedchamber. But not facing facts had never been in her nature. Unlike her father, who tried to forget his losses in drink, she never shied away from the truth. But just this once, it would have been nice to escape what lay ahead.
    Reaching into her valise, she took out a small vial filled with an amber liquid. Then, squaring her shoulders, she marched down the steps and made her way to the breakfast parlour.
    She found Simmons standing outside the closed doors of the breakfast parlour. When she reached his side, he made to open the door for her, but laying a hand on his liveried arm, she stopped him.
    “Yes, miss?” he inquired with his nasal voice and a slightly apprehensive expression on his features.
    “Here, Simmons.” Patience placed the small vial in his hand. “I brought this especially for you. I thought it might help you breathe easier as it worked quite well on one of the tenants back home who suffered from much the same affliction as you do. Just swallow a teaspoon once a day and you should be seeing improvements fairly soon.”
    The butler, recovering from his initial surprise, answered, “Why, thank you, miss. I am much touched to think you should have gone to such trouble on my account.”
    Patience laughed at this. “I rather think it is the least I could do after turning your life upside down the last time I came for a visit.”
    Simmons forgot himself so far as to bestow a fatherly smile on her, before opening the door of the breakfast room and shutting it again behind her.
    The Earl sat at the table alone. Patience had hoped for such an event. Her aunt was rarely out of bed before ten, even in the country. As for Lady Rutherford, she assumed her future mother-in-law would not be too keen for her company this morning. That lady’s pale ashen face last night could not have told her in clearer terms that this was the last thing she wanted for her highborn son. Julius could have done much better than the penniless baronet’s daughter that she was.
    Patience ignored the covered dishes on the sideboard and sat across the Earl who was reading the paper. He gave her a curt nod before returning to his paper and cup of coffee. Patience poured herself a cup and took a few fortifying sips. As Julius showed no sign of wishing to make conversion, she took matters into her own hands.
    “Did you sleep well, my lord? I hope your headaches have disappeared and did not disturb your rest last night.”
    “If anything disturbed my sleep, I would not say that headaches were to blame,” responded Julius in chilling accents.
    Patience tried again. “Even so, you should still be careful. Head injuries are not to be dismissed so easily.”
    “Still playing doctor, Patience? I find it amazing that you did not manage to poison yourself with all the smelly concoctions you used to brew.”
    Patience had not expected this interview to be easy, but she had hoped for a modicum of restraint from such a high stickler of propriety.
    “I now see that my efforts would have been better spent finding a cure for your moodiness instead of your severe case of skin blemishes. By the way, your ailment seems to have cleared up quite nicely. I wonder, did you follow my advice after all?”

    Julius did not respond as he deposited his newspaper on the table and cut through his beef tenderloin with more force than was necessary. He would gladly suffer torture rather than admit to having used the ointment she had left behind for him. At the time, he had been torn between the fear that his appearance would never improve and that of doing irreparable damage to his face by using a gooey mess made by an eleven-year-old girl. In the end, he had decided that his