Read Online The Gilded Cage by Lucinda Gray - Free Book Online Page B

get back at the rich. That is to say, forever.” There’s an edge in his voice that is new.
    â€œDon’t speak to me of vendettas now, when my brother is barely cold,” I say, angry. “If he could, he would remind you that the rules of decency extend to both rich and poor. I should know—I’m newly rich, and very recently was quite poor. But I’m the same person now that I was then.”
    John reaches a hand toward mine and takes it, his fingertips gently insistent on my palm. “Are you, my lady?” His voice is husky, with a texture in it that I’ve never heard.
    Though the room is frigid, my skin is suddenly alive with heat, running in currents from my palm all the way to my scalp.
    â€œYou’re shivering,” he says. “Are you cold?”
    I nod but cannot speak, watching his chest rise and fall in the half-light. His skin is ruddy with beating blood, and I long to feel the life of him in my arms. Almost without my permission, my face is moving toward his.
    Then another, steadier light joins that of John’s lamp, and I hear Jane’s voice, tentative, from the hall. “Katherine?” she says. John has already moved away from me, slipping like a phantom through a side door, deeper into the abandoned wing.
    Jane enters the room, clutching a candle and a subdued Stella. “You weren’t in bed when I woke,” she says, her voice a colorless slip. “I was so worried, Kat.”
    Her eyes fall on my brother’s sheeted form. “Oh. Of course. I’m so sorry. I should have known you would want to see him.”
    She won’t look directly at me, and I wonder how much she saw of John and me before calling out my name. As she leads me back to my room, I cannot decide whether I’m grateful for the way she interrupted us, just before my mouth touched his.

 
    CHAPTER 7
    D ESPITE EVERYTHING, THE procedures must be followed. I stand in front of the mirror once more, this time dressed in black. “I’m not sure I can do this,” I say, trying to avoid my reflection. “Face all those people.”
    Jane smiles wanly. She, too, is dressed for the funeral, her clothes having been brought to the house in preparation. “Would you like me to tell them you are unwell?” she says.
    It would hardly be a lie. My skin is so pale, my eye sockets shrunken and bruised through troubled sleep. I want to lie on my bed and close my eyes and simply forget—to drift on a sea of unconsciousness. Perhaps I will, by some miracle, open them again and find myself back in our old house, with Aunt Lila singing in the kitchen, and the thud of Connor and George chopping wood outside.
    â€œNo,” I say. “I owe it to him to go.”
    Tears are brimming again, and Jane wraps her arms around me, letting me shudder silently. After the fit has passed, she offers me a cloth to dab my eyes. “It is not the same,” she says, “but I know something of grief. It’s three years since my mother passed.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I say.
    â€œDon’t be,” Jane answers. “I have only happy memories of her. She was a kind woman, with a generous spirit. Just like your brother, from what I knew of him. I cannot offer you much consolation, but know this. Time will soften your grief.”
    I touch her shoulder lightly. “Thank you.” Glancing at the clock, I see it is almost eleven. “We should go downstairs.”
    She takes my arm, just as George did the night before he died. We descend the stairs to the front of the house, where Grace and Henry wait with the two mourning coaches. Mr. Dowling is there also, in his own transport. Henry’s face is drawn beneath his hat. There’s a patch of dried blood below his ear, where he’s cut himself shaving.
    Only the sight of John, driving a second coach, shakes me from my dulled reverie. Though he can’t bring his eyes to mine, I know he sees