The Golden Visit
The ledger showed three hundred and twelve pounds owed to St. Jude’s, a sum that weighed heavier than the gold visor itself. I counted the entries twice, my finger tracing the inked columns of my mother’s care: physiotherapist, nursing, the rent on the ward room. Then I counted the hours until the masquerade, four in total, a tight window for a man of my age and constitution. The Duke had...
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