A Perfect Mistress Read Online Free PDF

sharply.   “ Servants demand payment, unlike poor sisters. You’d have to actually pay someone, and you couldn’t work them to the bone the way you do me. And what are you going to pay them with, exactly? Good looks? Yours are fading fast, which is why ‘your men’ are long gone and you have no money. You couldn’t do the work yourself, either. You can’t scrub floors or shop for food; it would interfere with your whoring!”
    And Sophie swept out of the kitchen, leaving Mrs. Ferguson hiding a smile behind her hand and her sis ter gaping after her in angry astonishment.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
    When Sophie woke the next morning, her first thought was of Jackson.
    She’d tossed and turned all night, not falling asleep until the wee hours of the morning. Her dreams weren’t restful, either; it had started well, with Jackson kissing her, and then had turned darker. Jackson’s face in the dream became twisted with anger and lust, and Sophie had been afraid. She woke with her thin coverlet in a ball, soaked in sweat.
    She ached to be with him, and yet…he frightened her. She knew what he wanted, and she didn’t know if she could give it.
    With a sigh, Sophie swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
    “Just get moving,” she said aloud. “You have too much to do today. You can figure it all out later.”
    Sophie worked hard all morning, but she didn’t mind – she needed to clear her head, and a bit of hard work was just the thing to do it. She scrubbed the entryway floor, helped Claire polish the staircase (while assuring that Delia would most certainly not dock her week’s wages), and helped Mrs. Ferguson with the bread making, all before Delia even stirred from her bed.
    She was seated at the kitchen table, enjoying a rare moment of inactivity, when Delia stormed in.
    “Where is my breakfast?” she demanded. “You didn’t bring it to me.”
    Sophie sipped her tea.
    “It’s on the sideboard,” she said calmly. “You can serve yourself. I’ve been a bit busy this morning.”
    Delia put her hands on her hips.
    “If you think for one moment…”
    “I’m not your servant, Delia,” Sophie told her, putting her cup down on the table with a click. “I’m your sister. I don’t mind working, but I will not be treated badly.” She stood up. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave this kitchen and go away. I really don’t care to talk to you right now, after the remarks you made to me yesterday.”
    “You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head, or you’ll find yourself on the street!” Delia hissed.
    “And you’ll find yourself without anyone to keep your house for you,” she said. “I won’t be treated this way anymore, Delia. I’m going outside to work in the garden, and then I’m going for a walk in the park. When I come back, I expect you to treat me as your sister and not your unpaid help. We can help each other, or we can part ways. You choose. ”
    Sophie fumed while she weeded their small vegetable garden. Delia hadn’t heard a word she’d said; she’d stormed out of the room, muttering to herself. She jabbed the spade viciously into the ground. It was her fault as much as Delia’s , as badly as she hated to admit it. Delia treated her this way because she’d let her do it for so long. Maybe if she’d stood up for herself in the beginning, things might be different.
    She decided to put some flower arrangements out, and she moved along the wall that bordered their yard, clipping choice blooms and putting them in her basket. Lord knows they had plenty of vases, and flowers were a cheap way to make oneself feel better. She was humming a sprightly tune when a sudden voice made her jump.
    “What have we here?” asked a teasing voice. “I don’t know which is the more beautiful – you, or those roses.”
    “Jackson!” she said, a smile coming to her face as she whirled around. “Am I late for our appointment in the park? Surely it’s not that time