CHAPTER SEVEN“I want to get up,” Rocana called out.
The nun who was arranging flowers on her dressing table turned her serene face to say,
“The doctor has promised that you shall come downstairs this afternoon for a little while. Until then, madame, you must rest.”
“I am sick of resting.”
Rocana spoke quietly to herself, not wishing to upset the nun whom the doctor had sent to nurse her.
There were two of them. One was with her at night which meant never again had she woken to find the Marquis attending to her and the other nursed her during the day.
Despite the doctor’s optimism, she had run a fever for two days, which had left her very weak.
But the wound was healing on her shoulder, she no longer had to wear her arm in a sling and there was only a bandage to show what had happene
