Page 79 of Lord Ramsey's Red-Headed Ruin
He took care not to show how his mind reeled. “What’s the matter with her?”
“She is weak, cannot eat, tries to drink but loses anything she puts in her stomach. She is pale. Her skin…” Cecily touched her own cheek. “Her skin is drawn. She has lost weight.”
With each of her words, she drove her nails into her skin.
He felt his stomach turn. “What does she say?”
“Little. She is hoarse from all her vomiting. Her eyes are clouded. She is so weak, she is not cognizant of all around her. She recognized me only after I forced her eyes open and demanded she tell me who I am.”
His head swam with a torrent of disaster. Amber ill. Amber barely conscious. Amber unable to recognize her aunt who had saved her and loved her.Like I did. Like I do.
He strode to the window overlooking the boulevard. Outside, the sun shone. Carriages clogged the streets. Pedestrians hurried past. The British were leaving and in a mad rush. Life and tragedy converged in the streets…and his beloved was ill.
“What did she tell you? What is the problem?”
“She lolled her head upon her pillows. I doubt she understands. She is so weak. She needs tea, broth. Water.”
He grimaced. “Did you speak with Vaillancourt?”
“I did. I asked him how long she has been like this.”
It’s been three weeks. Three since she has not met me in the cemetery in Montmartre.
Cecily came to stand behind him. “He says she has grown worse this past week.”
Ram squeezed shut his eyes. The last time when they walked together, Amber had seemed distracted. He worried she was losing her focus—and her love for him. But she had been pale and thin then.
Had she been ill that day? Yes, most likely that was the beginning, and he had not noticed.Fool. Fool.
Cecily grabbed his arm. “I know what she did.”
He blinked. If she meant his and Amber’s collaboration… “You know nothing.” She could not know the facts that Amber had fed to him. If Cecily did, it was only because Amber had, in her delirium, recited them to her. Could his darling be so ill that she would share such information?
Whatever Cecily knew or thought she did, no one should know but him. And Kane. If Amber had murmured any hint of what she did to anyone, the news was her death warrant.
Had Amber told Vaillancourt what she did?
Did Vaillancourt know Amber had searched his desk and found lists of those he would jail? Was he angry, desperate that she had betrayed him?
All was nothing, however, to the news that Amber was weak, unable to digest or keep food down.
He turned toward Cecily.
“Ramsey, Amber says Vaillancourt poisons her.”
Ram grabbed the back of a chair to keep from reeling.
Dear God.The man had no boundaries.And if he knows that Amber used him, he would rather kill her himself than have Fouché or Bonaparte learn he has failed them.
Vaillancourt had told Amber he craved her. But love? No.
He does not love you, my darling.
Ram clasped his hands together. He could not stop them from shaking.
“Ramsey,” Cecily said, calling him from his reverie, “you must take Amber from him.”
“I have planned it myself, coincidentally today.”
