"Your condition isn't improving, Henry," Augusta said, her voice ringing with a forced melody of wifely concern. She handed him the small pills for the morning, the new ones the doctor had supposedly prescribed.
He took them with a cup of water, his hand trembling slightly. "It seems I must have hurt Catherine so much in the past," Henry said, his gaze distant as he stared out the window. "And now she is punishing me from beyond the grave."
Augusta took the empty cup from his hand, her own expression carefully neutral. Still thinking of your old flame, even on your deathbed, she thought to herself, a wave of disgust washing over her. Disgusting. She let out a gentle, sympathetic sigh.
"You are not giving your body enough time to rest and regenerate, my dear," she said softly. "I was quite surprised when Preston told me you were asking for the business ledgers again."
