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The Perfect Duchess Dies At Dawn Novel Cover

The Perfect Duchess Dies At Dawn

After discovering her husband Duke Alistair’s betrayal with his sister Liana, the Duchess fled. A year later, she returns to a duchy in chaos, but she is hiding a terminal diagnosis of consumption. With only one month to live, she plays the role of the perfect duchess with a chilling detachment. She provides Alistair with mistresses and encourages her son Damian’s reckless dreams, using their own desires to break them. As she prepares for death, their guilt turns into a desperate, frantic plea for her forgiveness.
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Chapter 2

"You misunderstand, Your Grace," I said softly, as blood continued to seep from my glove. "I'm just afraid of staining your hands."

Alistair's face grew even darker.

"Bring the dancers back in," I told Amy.

The three women re-entered, terrified. One of them spoke meekly. "Your Grace, my father and I used to gather herbs. I could help heal the cut on your hand..."

"That won't be necessary," I cut her off. "Taking care of the Duke is your only priority."

I lifted my chin, motioning for them to approach him. "Help His Grace undress for his bath."

The closest dancer reached out a trembling hand for the buttons of Alistair's shirt.

"Get away from me!" Alistair swatted her hand away. The woman stumbled back.

He turned to me, his eyes burning with rage. "If you insist on this charade, why bother with pale imitations? Why not just bring back the original!"

A sharp pain lanced through my heart.

Then I smiled.

That flawless, perfect smile of a duchess.

"Of course. Anything you desire, Your Grace."

Alistair stared, stunned. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

He held my gaze for a moment, then spun around and stormed out of the room.

"Father! Father!" Damian shouted, chasing after him from the doorway, but Alistair didn't stop.

His footsteps faded down the hall.

Damian returned, dejected. He was holding a small, ornate pastry box, which he handed to Amy.

"It's the peach mousse Mother used to love," he said, his voice choked with tears. "Mother, why are you pushing him away? You're going to destroy our family!"

I glanced at the box and let out a cold laugh.

Peach mousse. I had loved it once.

Until Liana had an allergic reaction after accidentally eating some.

Alistair had furiously thrown every single ingredient for it out of the kitchen.

"As long as Liana is in this house, Seraphina is not to touch a single thing with peaches in it!" he had roared at the head chef.

And now Damian was bringing it to me, trying to win me over.

"Get out," I said flatly.

"Mother..." Damian looked at me, wounded. "Don't you want this family anymore? The duchy needs you! Father and I know we were wrong! We'll do anything to make it up to you, I'm just begging you, please don't do this to us..."

I ignored him and waved to the guards outside my door.

"Young Lord, it's time to leave. The Duchess needs her rest."

"Mother!" Damian tried to protest, but the guards were already escorting him out, politely but firmly.

The room was quiet again. Amy had led the dancers away.

I was finally alone.

A cough rattled through the room.

I raised my handkerchief to my mouth. It came away stained with blood.

Damian had asked if I still wanted this family.

I could never have it. Not anymore.

I just wanted to die in peace.

If I wasn't so afraid of Alistair starting a rebellion and threatening the stability of the kingdom, I would have stayed in the palace, in the home where I grew up, and waited quietly for the end.

Two days later, a familiar laugh echoed from the courtyard.

I sat by the window and watched Alistair himself help a woman down from a carriage.

Liana was back.

She was as beautiful as ever.

Her chestnut curls shimmered in the sun. Her green eyes were filled with tears.

She leaned against Alistair's chest, looking as helpless and fragile as always.

The memory hit me like a physical blow.

It was a year ago. I was pregnant with our second child. I had returned early from a royal hunt.

I wanted to surprise Alistair. I slipped quietly into our rose garden.

He had built it just for me. Every rose was planted to my liking.

In the center was a white bench, carved with our initials.

But what I saw was Alistair and Liana, kissing on that very bench.

Their clothes were disheveled. I could see the marks of his passion on Liana's neck.

I stormed out, screaming at them, exposing their ugly affair.

The shock sent a sharp pain through my stomach. I felt a warm liquid run down my legs.

The baby... my baby...

"Alistair..." I instinctively reached for his hand, for help.

But he stepped right past me. He rushed to catch Liana, who had "fainted from the shock."

"Get a doctor!" he roared at the servants who came running. "For Liana!"

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