A Devilish Duke by Tammy Andresen EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Tammy Andresen
- Language: English
- Genre: Tudor Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“ONE NEVER KNows how deep a hole can be, until they’ve reached the
bottom.” —Lord Reginald Fairbanks
O L , perhaps from the memory or just
from the cold that seemed to have penetrated her bones. The words had
been uttered by her former fiancé as they’d stared down into her father’s
grave.
His observation had been terribly insensitive given the circumstances,
not that she’d complained. In that moment, Reginald had been her lifeline
in this world.
If only she’d known then that Lord Reginald Fairbanks had been
nothing but fool’s gold.
She snorted under her breath, so as not to be overheard. She’d found a
small doorway within which to curl herself.
It did nothing to block the cold, but at least she had cover over her head.
And the door, being inset, kept her invisible from the casual observer.
If only she could find a shred of warmth, she might be able to sleep. Just
for a little bit.
She pulled her pelisse, now worn threadbare and covered in soot, tighter
about her body, clasping her hands together.
Reginald was surely warm now, likely stretched out in front of a fire.
Did he have a sherry in hand, his cuffs undone as he was wont to do after a
day of mindless leisure? Had he found a new fiancé? A woman with the
means to finance his preferred lifestyle?
Her head sank. She’d been desperate enough to allow him to fool her
into thinking he cared. What did Reginald know about the depth of holes?
She curled her knees tighter to her chest, the sound of footsteps making her
shrink even deeper into the doorway.
She couldn’t believe how much she missed the single bed in the
workhouse that she’d slept in just two nights prior. The place had smelled
foul, like stale sweat and waste. The single flowing water source, a trench
down the middle where people both pulled drinking water and tossed out
waste.
Ophelia grimaced at the memory but remained silent as the footsteps
drew closer.
“I’m telling ye, he bought my whole tray of slices,” one woman cackled
gleefully. “Paid a quid. I’ll eat well tonight.”
The woman had surely managed to procure an orange and had peddled
the slices for coin. It was a common practice among the impoverished, their
cries for their goods filling the streets daily.
Ophelia had not yet learned the tricks of gaining items such as oranges.
She’d managed to sell every last bit and bob she could lay her hands on,
including the brass buttons that had adorned her pelisse, but she’d run out
of items.
“I sold six cheroots today,” another answered.
“Where’d you get ‘em?”
“Same place you got your orange, I stole ‘em.” They both cackled at
that.
“Are you going to Finnigan’s to eat? I’ll join ye.”
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