Page 84 of Lord Ramsey's Red-Headed Ruin
Ram knew nothow long it would take Corsini to find Luc, nor how long for Bechard to make the right connections to get them out of Paris. Still, Ram saw by Amber’s improvement the third morning after their departure from Vaillancourt’s that his decision to come here, where she could feel comfortable, was right.
“I dare not bring her to your house,” Ram had told Cecily that day she visited him and drew him a diagram of Vaillancourt’s floor plan.
“Never. But he will come looking for her there and everywhere.”
“We will leave Paris, madame, and I will not tell you how or where. I will simply go as far as I can as fast as I can.”
Cecily had nodded once. “I want to know only when you both are safe. Whenever that is, find a way to get word to me. She is my darling. One of my two children who came to me by choice and circumstance. I am proud of each. Mad with sorrow to lose them. But I know Augustine went with a good man who loved her. I take comfort that Amber also leaves with another good man who adores her.”
He took Cecily’s hand and kissed the back.
“I leave her to your care,” she had said, choking back tears, then dug from her reticule a leather folio. “For Amber’s eyes only.”
Ram turned to view Amber now, tucked up securely in a mountain of bedclothes and pillows. She slept, pale, her chapped lips open as she breathed in a steady pattern. He checked his pocket watch. For more than four hours, she had not awakened to cough or vomit. A good sign.
He took the chair beside her and sighed with the first small relief of many days. Weeks, really. He had her with him. Finally. Even if, now, her health was ravaged by that bastard. He prayed that Amber was wrong and that Vaillancourt had told the truth and not poisoned her, but had ordered a medication to add to her tea and wine.
Ram ran a shaking hand through his hair. The apothecary he had called here to examine her the day they arrived told him he could not determine if she had been poisoned. True, she was weak and vomiting, but she had no signs of delirium in her eyes or her pulse. Aside from that, the chemist could not predict what would happen.
“Keep her warm. Give her liquids. Tea. Honey. Broth. Anything she keeps down. Fresh water every ten minutes.”
Ram had not known whether to hug him or kiss him.
Amber stirred, her large brown eyes drowsy but clear. “Ram?” She slid her hand across the bed covers. “You are here.”
“I am.” He bent to place a kiss into her palm and reached for the crystal glass filled with fresh water. “Have a sip of this.”
She drank and sank back to the pillows. Her beautiful eyes on him, she whispered so low he barely heard.
But his heart did.
“I love you, Godfrey DuClare. I love you.”
“I know you do, my darling. Now sleep.”
“You will be here?”
“Always.”
*
A week later,Corsini told Ram the story of how he had found Luc Bechard leaving Cecily’s house on Île Saint-Louis. Corsini quickly took Luc to a café and presented his proposal. Luc was eager to help Ram escape and asked for his address. Corsini declined to share it. “The fewer who know, the better.”
Luc had secured a small house in Amboise on the shores of the Loire, southwest of Paris. He wrote a note for Corsini to give to Ram that included the location and description of the house.It will be ready for them by next Sunday.
Two days later, when Corsini came to the house to check on them, Ram gave him two hundred old Louis to arrange a carriage.
“I will do it,” Corsini told him. “The man will ask for you. But who shall I say he must ask for, monsieur?”
Ram sniffed. “Monsieur Debray.” The name of a man buried in the old St. Pierre churchyard was the only one that popped into his mind. Amber would smile at that. “Wait for me with the coachman and help me settle madame inside for our journey.”
“I will tell the coachman you go far and to prepare,” Corsini told him.
Ram smiled and dropped a hand to the Italian’s shoulder. “I will tell you how very grateful I am for your help.”
“No words, monsieur, are necessary.”
They hugged instead.
