May 24th, 1763

Last night he came to my room again. I had heard him on the stairs, then the slightly creaking door. Still, when I felt his weight on the bed, I kept my back turned to him, pretending to be asleep. 'My Lady.' he said, touching my shoulder (bare it was, fool that I am not to cover myself properly!). I tried to look very tired, when he turned me towards him, stroking my chin. It was unbearable feeling his touch. So I opened my eyes, slowly, facing my husband´s tender look resting on my face. It´s true, it made my spine shiver and my fingers tremble and my heart ache. But I do not want him. Especially not so close to me. He must have seen this rejection written on my face, for he cupped my cheek with his left hand; very warm, stroking it with his thumb. I´m sure I stared at him. How cold it was I can´t recall, but he let go off me and left me for good that night; only mumbling 'Good night, my Lady.', before he closed the door. I shall thank him for that, I suppose.
When I came down for breakfast, the parlour was again empty and the table only prepared for me. His Lordship was out riding, he had left a couple of hours ago, I was told. And it was just half past eight when I came down.


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