KATHERINE
A maid came once again to inform me about dinner.
"Bring the food to my room. I won’t be dining in the hall tonight"—nor ever again.
I watched her leave with a nod.
"Nana…"
"Think it through carefully, there’s no rush. An heir isn’t born in a few hours. Go, take a good bath, relax, and sleep on it. I’ll take care of Lavinia."
I sighed and stood up, leaning toward her. I kissed her wrinkled forehead. This woman had been the only mother I had ever known.
"Silly girl, still as clingy as when you were a little rascal. Go rest, you have tough battles ahead," she patted my hands.
I headed to my room. Honestly, my mind was so burdened with worries that it felt like it was about to catch fire.
No one ever said living someone else’s life would be easy. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, a knock sounded against the wood behind me.
I opened it to find the servant who attended the dining hall.
"Excuse me, Duchess, dinner is ready."
"Then bring it in," I said, opening the door wider, expecting the food cart. But he stood there awkwardly, empty-handed.
"Dinner will be served in the dining hall, as usual."
"I requested it be brought to my room," I replied through gritted teeth.
"Yes… yes, but His Lordship said… that you must eat in the dining hall, that the room isn’t meant for that…"
Oh, that… that… ugh!
"I understand. Tell the Duke I won’t be coming down. If he was waiting for me, he may start without me." And with that, I shut the door in his face.
Poor boy, but I was done with that man’s whims.
What was he trying to do? Make me wait for hours again until he felt like eating?
I had two hands, and I’d raid the kitchen after my bath.
I began undressing as I turned on the faucet, filling the bathtub with hot water—one of the privileges of nobility.
Back at home, I had to fill it up with wooden buckets.
I moaned in satisfaction, sinking into the tub, head and all.
Before their fear faded by tomorrow, I’d order my room to be thoroughly cleaned.
I didn’t take too long. I scrubbed myself well with the sponge and rinsed off the foam.
I grabbed one of Rossella’s more daring robes to wear.
I didn’t even know why she had it—her husband wouldn’t even walk past her bedroom door.
It was fully open at the front, semi-transparent, and white.
I stepped into the room barefoot, the coal crackling in the enormous fireplace adorned with beautiful floral tiles, filling the space with warmth.
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