The Perfect Duchess Dies At Dawn
The day I learned the truth about my husband, Duke Alistair, and his adopted sister, Liana, I left. I abandoned my title, my home, and returned to my father's palace.
A year passed. Then came news of chaos in the duchy.
The servant Alistair sent spoke with desperation, “Your Highness, the Duke and your son are lost to reason. If you don’t return, I fear they will burn everything to the ground.”
I looked at the blood I'd coughed onto my handkerchief. I nodded.
"Fine. I'll go back."
The doctor had already given me my diagnosis. Consumption. I had only a month left to live.
So I went back. And I played the part of the perfect duchess.
I no longer demanded Alistair's loyalty. I even found him three new mistresses who looked just like Liana and sent them to his bed after he had sent her away for me.
I no longer made Damian study the arts of statecraft and not forced him to master his courtly duties. Instead, I supported his ridiculous dream of joining the Expeditionary Force.
I took the pain they gave me. I wrapped it in the "understanding" they always craved. And I served it back to them cold.
But it drove Alistair mad.
He threw out the mistresses. He crushed me in his arms. His kiss was a punishment. He bit my lip, drawing blood.
"I sent Liana away! What more do you want from me? How can I earn your forgiveness?"
Damian cried and clung to my arm.
"I'll never call Aunt Liana 'gentle' or 'beautiful' again! Mother, please. Just stop."
They didn't understand. I wasn't making a scene. I just wanted to live out my last month in peace. And then, I wanted to die.