Page 77 of Lord Ramsey's Red-Headed Ruin
Dizzy. Dry throat. Ugly vomiting.
“Marie, water.S’il vous plaît.”
“Oui,madame. But you do not keep it down.” The girl put a glass to Amber’s lips, but she could not open her lips. The water dribbled down her chin. “You must try, madame. Try.”
Someone banged on the door.
The girl cast her attention to the sound. “Enter!”
Who comes? Not him. Do not let it be him.“Please, I do not want—”
A man’s voice shouted.
A woman’s cry rent the air.
Is that mine? Am I dying?
“Amber,ma chérie!” Aunt Cecily loomed above her. She looked haggard, her black hair in a haphazard style. Her green eyes were small and dark. “Darling girl. What is wrong with you?”
I am dying, Aunt. He gave me poison and I am going to die.Tears dribbled down Amber’s cheeks.
Her aunt wiped her tears away and gave her a watery smile. “Sweet Amber. I heard you are unwell. People speak of it in court. Last night at my dinner table. How long have you been like this, sweetheart?”
I don’t know, Aunt. Hug me. Stroke my forehead like you used to when I was small and sick.
“How long, Marie?” her aunt demanded of the maid, her gaze never leaving Amber’s.
“When she arrived a few weeks ago, madame, she looked pale. But she is now quite ill and gives up everything.”
“When did she last eat?”
The maid said she was not aware.
“Poison, Aunt,” Amber murmured, but Cecily did not look at her.The footman put something in my wine. In my tea. Vaillancourt is poisoning me.
Her aunt winced and looked at Marie. “Take this chamber pot away and bring us a new one. Bring me tea and biscuits.”
Ugh. No biscuits.
“A clear soup, too. A fresh nightgown and hot water, toweling! At once.” Aunt Cecily plumped the pillows and straightened Amber’s covers. Then she cupped her cheek. “Not to worry, dearest. I will get a physician. We will get you better. Marie, summon Monsieur Vaillancourt to me at once.”
“But madame, he has a guest.”
Aunt Cecily shot up and glared at the poor maid. “Tell him to come here now or I will make myself known to himandhis guest. I guarantee your master will not like what I have to say to him either in front of his visitor or alone. But he will hear from menow. Go.”
*
Just after four,Ram had concluded his withdrawals from his account, sent his Parisian banker on his way, and deposited his gold coins in his wall safe, when hismajordomappeared once more at his study door.
“Monsieur, you have two callers.” His butler, a Frenchman of wide experience and great discretion, looked flustered.
“Two?” Ram expected only one man, Kane’s formermajordom. He had much more to do to prepare his departure, and all this was wasting time. “Who are they?”
“The one you expected. Monsieur Umberto Corsini. I showed him to the green salon.”
“Excellent.” Kane’s formermajordomwas a young Italian of many talents and numerous contacts in Paris. Kane had pensioned off his butler, but before he left for London, he had told Ram that Corsini remained available to all their colleagues in Paris. “Good. And the other person?”
“Madame le Comtesse Nugent calls.”
