Chapter ThirteenThe Marchioness opened her eyes, groaned and closed them again.
She felt exceedingly ill, so ill that for the moment she craved oblivion more than anything else in the world.
But sleep had deserted her and instead consciousness swept over her insistently so that she was unpleasantly aware of her throbbing head and dry mouth.
She had taken laudanum last night when she went to bed, for she knew that otherwise she would lie awake the whole night, tense and sleepless, haunted by her own thoughts.
Now, although she regretted the impetuosity that had made her double her usual dose of the drug, she still felt that it had been worth any after-effects to obtain forgetfulness.
But with wakefulness she could no longer forget and she reached out her hand to pull the silken bell ro
