Another week is coming to a close and while I lie in bed and count the days until the Duke's arrival, I cannot help but feel I am allowing myself to wallow in self-pity.
It's rather disturbing because I have never been of a melancholy nature, rather always one to make the most of a situation. But without the Duke by my side, I am finding it rather difficult to keep my spirits up.
My writing has taken over my life, which I suppose is the most positive outcome while I wait for the Duke to sort out his accommodation in the Northern Counties. I long to see what he shall purchase; if it is anything like the properties he calls home here in Bohemia, no doubt they shall be spectacular.
I have not yet had a letter from him, though Jeeves assures me that the moment one arrives it shall be planted in my hand with the utmost care and speed. Though it saddens me not to have heard from him, I do have to admit that I too have neglected to send him a letter as of yet... In many respects, we truly are as bad as each other.
The contours of the gorgeous sapphic lover have kept me entertained in my bedroom, so much so that we spent two days wrapped up between the sheets. But though she is wonderful, she does not have the same zest for life nor sparkle in her eye that the brunette used to have. I never thought that I would long for my past lovers, and I don't, but the brunette was special as she initiated me into the ways of the sapphic world.
Maybe I shall contact the artist and have another painting done as a present for the Duke on his return? That sounds like a sensible way to keep me entertained and distracted from my boredom...
D. S.
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