Bridget opened her mouth to reply and then checked herself. “Nuthin,” she muttered. “Only – I’m sorry you ain’t going to know what real passion is!”
“Do you know, Bridget?” asked Eugenia mournfully.
Bridget leaned in close. “It’s like nothing else at all. Your flesh is all fever and you want to die, so you do.”
The maid straightened quickly as the Marquis entered. Eugenia, quickly wiping the tear from her lip, made a tremulous nod of dismissal and Bridget hurried away.
The Marquis advanced. Eugenia could see his reflection in the mirror and could see the way he hungrily devoured her image, taking in the curve of her breasts beneath her silk negligee and the milky white pallor of her flesh in the flickering candlelight. Her red lips parted in painful anticipation. She felt a wave of gui
