Ivory and Steel

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Book: Ivory and Steel Read Online Free PDF
Author: Janice Bennett
Tags: Erótica, Romance
Yarborough’s room in time to hear the young lady moan.
    She lay in the narrow bed, her complexion unnaturally pale, her thin hands limp and listless on the counterpane. The maid, Jane, stood beside her and a mug of steaming chocolate rested on the bedside table.
    “Do you still feel terribly ill?” Phyllida crossed to her side. “It is the most awful headache, is it not?”
    Miss Yarborough’s pansy-brown eyes fluttered open. “Oh Phyllida, this is so dreadful. Poor, poor dear Louisa. I—” She broke off and dabbed at her brimming eyes with her handkerchief.
    “It is no wonder you are not quite the thing yet. You drank more lemonade than I. I’ll leave Jane looking after you and go down to see if I can help the dowager. Don’t try to get up this morning.’’
    Miss Yarborough cried out in dismay. “But I must. I cannot just lie here and be a burden to anyone! You know I cannot. I have never been a guest in this household.” Her large eyes widened even more. “Oh Phyllida,” she gasped. “What am I to do?”
    “You are not to worry about anything.” Phyllida helped the girl to a sitting position and arranged the pillows more comfortably behind her back. “Here, drink your chocolate now and you will feel better presently. I shall come back to see how you go on as soon as I can. I’m sure we will both earn our keep over the next few days, until the household recovers from the shock.”
    What about after that though? Constance Yarborough was not the only one living under this roof on sufferance. Phyllida squelched that unwelcome and unproductive line of thought. She could only face one disaster at a time unless she wished to succumb to a fit of the vapors.
    Her advice to Constance had been sound, she decided. No one should be expected to face the tribulations of the day without a strong cup of tea and a good hot meal inside her. Then perhaps she would regain a measure of fortitude. She descended the two flights of stairs to the floor where the breakfast parlor stood.
    The tribulations, she soon discovered, were to be many. She had taken no more than a bite of egg, her tea still too hot to sip, when a maid popped into the room.
    “If you please, miss, her ladyship wishes a word with you.”
    A pang of anguish shot through Phyllida but she fought it back. The girl meant the dowager, of course. With deliberate care she laid down her fork and rose, then resignedly answered the dowager’s summons.
    Lady Allbury occupied an elegant suite of rooms on the next floor up, overlooking Berkeley Square. Phyllida averted her gaze from Louisa’s chamber on the other side of the corridor and entered.
    Passing through the spacious sitting room, she experienced a measure of awe. Sunlight filled the apartment, reflecting off the gilt-trimmed mirrors, setting the silver candelabra gleaming and casting intricate lacy patterns on the Aubusson carpets. Only once before had the dowager permitted her admittance to this private sanctuary.
    She opened the connecting door and came to an abrupt halt at the contrast. Darkness and melancholy hung heavily in the curtained bedchamber and it sent an uneasy shiver along her flesh. Such would be the deathbed of a queen, the thought flashed through her mind. She fought back the fanciful notion and stepped inside.
    The dowager lay in the great four-poster, propped up with numerous pillows. The gold velvet hangings had been pulled back but Phyllida could barely discern the pale face and the steely gray wisps of hair protruding from beneath the lace nightcap. Darkness and death…
    “There you are, child,” the dowager declared in failing accents. “Such tragedy, such a loss. I vow I am prostrated by shock and grief.” She gave vent to a weak sigh but her gaze remained piercing as it rested on Phyllida, as if she calculated the effect of her theatrics.
    Phyllida watched her with an odd sense of detachment. You hated her, she thought, but didn’t bother to voice the words. In silence she
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