by April Moran
“Champagne. Most definitely, milord.”
“Hmmm.” Sebastian still had a few items of correspondence to attend before he could make his way to the west drawing room and it took everything within him not to follow Ivy upstairs to lend his assistance in “freshening up.” Thinking what might occur if he acted on that impulse, he smiled. “See to the tea, will you, Brody? And Brody- no champagne.”
“Of course not, milord.”
“Lady Garrett informed me that new batch of the Rosethorne blend arrived this morning. Will you have Cook prepare a pot? Her Ladyship will be most pleased. I know she’s missed it.”
Sebastian was mildly surprised Ivy was not in the drawing room when he arrived. Wolfing down two sugar biscuits from a small platter, he prowled the confines of the elegant room. When ten minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of her, he went ahead and poured himself a cup of the tea.
A slight bitterness was detected toward the end of the brew and he frowned to discover it. Pouring another cup, he sipped this one more slowly, rolling the liquid over his tongue. A strange flavor was certainly there, tempered with a delicate hint of something fruity and bitter. It was a taste difficult to place but not enough to ruin the tea.
It was a half hour before Sebastian deemed it necessary to investigate Ivy’s delayed appearance. Thinking perhaps she had lain down for an impromptu nap, an irrational grin broke over his face. With unseemly haste, he hurried from the drawing room, taking the stairs two at a time.
A surge of abrupt dizziness swelled inside him before he reached the landing of the second floor. He clutched the balustrade for stability, nausea choking him. Stunned, Sebastian held in place, breathing hard until the spell passed. He ate very little at the noon meal, a mass of paperwork preventing much concentration on the rumblings of his stomach. This wave of vertigo, quickly followed by excruciating paroxysms across his lower belly, was credited to nothing more than severe hunger pangs. Although he was left shuddering in its aftermath, he continued toward their suite of rooms.
Ivy lay on her back, sprawled across the middle of their bed in a heap of turquoise silk. She’d kicked off her slippers, unfastened a few of the bodice hooks and fallen asleep. Her head was turned to the side, one hand tucked under her chin and the butterfly brooch twinkled from a gold chain around her neck. It nestled in the hollow of her throat, as if it were a real butterfly sipping from a tiny pool of nectar. Sinking beside her, Sebastian smelled the faint bubbly aroma of champagne mingling with her perfume and when his arms folded about her, she turned, burrowing into him. Sebastian thought it quite possibly the closest thing to heaven on earth. How he adored this enchanting, dazzling creature.
The night Ivy begged him to let her go, the same night she clutched him as though he were a lifeline, crying as they made love, she had unknowingly convinced him of something she could not yet admit to herself. She loved him. She could not, or would not, say it aloud, but she loved him. His eyesight grew blurry, thinking of the next step in wooing his wife.
Sebastian’s vision contracted even further, everything growing smaller and smaller until Ivy was hardly more than a pinprick of light at the end of a black tunnel. Unexpectedly, his mouth could no longer form words, his throat sealing tight in a raw grip of agony. Forcing himself to swallow, he panicked, straining to say her name.
"Ivy…" It came out in a guttural rasp.
“Hmmm.” Her lips just inches from his, Ivy stirred but did not awaken. Her breathing remained steady, the moist warmth of it brushing his cheek. Sebastian struggled to rise but found his limbs paralyzed and horrifyingly useless. His arms, draped about Ivy’s waist, suddenly dropped away like lifeless sticks.
What was happening to him? He was tossed into a dark pit, while from a rim far above a thousand pair of eyes stared back at him. All glowed with aqua fire, flashes of gold candlelight melting into empty, hollows. Slowly, they spiraled into gaping caverns as he slithered further into the pit to be swallowed whole. He wanted to grope and scratch his way to the top, but he could not move, could not breathe nor cry out for help. Ivy lay close enough to kiss, but she could not save him. Inside his head, Sebastian shrieked but she slept on, oblivious as he slid away.
The world grew darker, the universe weaker, all light diminishing until everything wasted to a blue-black night.
Chapter 40
The bed shook, as if a mighty earthquake had descended upon their fashionable corner of Mayfair. Ivy mumbled, moving closer to the blazing heat beside her. She reveled in the warmth before coming to a hazy realization it was actually uncomfortable. Droplets of sweat trickled between her breasts, and restless, she scooted further away. Her eyes drifted open as the bed quivered.
A vague memory of returning from Sara’s after a morning of champagne and too many toasts to the end of the season rose in her mind. While undoing the buttons on her gown, she became a bit dizzy and decided to rest for only a moment. She must have fallen asleep.
The bed wobbled again, a tortured moan jerking her upright, setting her heart pounding. Sebastian lay beside her, making that awful noise. Ivy touched her palms to his forehead then his cheek and he trembled at her touch. His flesh was like fire burning her and she stared at him in utter confusion. With a small cry, she scrambled to her knees. Sweat drenched Sebastian, heat rolling off him in waves, yet he shuddered as if bared to the wilds of Northern Scotland during the depths of winter. He moaned again, eyes feverish and bright, opening to gaze through Ivy as though she were not even there.
“Sebastian,” Ivy choked. “Dear God, you are ill.”
Help. She must get help. Gabriel would know what to do.
Mid-tumble from the bed, Ivy found her arm caught in an unyielding grasp. With the strength of ten men, Sebastian held tight, fingers digging into her flesh. His face glowed the same pristine white as the pillow casings and between lips dry and cracked, a single word finally croaked out.
“S-s-sick.”
Somehow, Ivy managed to wrench away. She hurried to the bathing room, locating a porcelain basin in the dimly lit room. Sliding back onto the bed, she tipped the bowl toward him just as he rolled to his side to become violently ill. Bracing his shoulder, she supported his weight the best she could while the meager contents of his stomach emptied into the shallow bowl.
When the spell was over, Ivy set the basin on the floor and helped him onto his back. She procured a fresh cloth, a glass of water and set about cleaning him up, passing the cloth gently over his face. Murmuring soothingly, even though Sebastian seemed unaware of her presence, Ivy reached over, yanking hard on the servant’s cable that would summon Gabriel.
With a rustle of fabric, Lady Garrett glided through the open doorway, her brow furrowed as she took in the bustling scene. "Whatever is going on?"
Ivy did not answer. Taking a new basin of cold water and fresh cloths from Miss Agnes, she dabbed at the newly formed rivulets of perspiration on Sebastian’s forehead and upper lip.
"Is the earl not feeling well?" Rachel stepped around Gabriel where he’d taken up a post at the door.
"He is terribly ill,” Ivy replied. "Where have you been?”
"To lunch at the Countess of Latham’s, and tea at old Lady Danbury's. Poor old dear suffers terribly from gout. I thought a visit would cheer her, although she barely remembers who comes to call. Feebleminded, you know.” Rachel gazed at her nephew, a strange gleam in her eye. "I was under the impression you two were hardly on speaking terms. Although after that display in the park, and your antics this past week, I’m not sure what to believe. One must keep up appearances, I suppose.”
Ivy could barely breathe past the guilt choking her. "He is my husband, madam. Regardless of everything else, there is that. It is my responsibility to care for him.”
“How very admirable.” Rachel murmured, stepping back as Sebastian began to thrash restlessly. She bumped into an immobile, unsmiling Gabriel. “When did he become ill?”
“This afternoon.” Ivy dipped the cloth aga
in in the cool water. “We are awaiting Dr. Callahan’s arrival to learn more.”
“Let us hope it is a passing illness. I confess I’ve never seen Sebastian ill before,” Rachel replied.
When Dr. Callahan arrived, he too, was perplexed. The possibility of food contamination was put forth, or perhaps some manner of blood poisoning. Had the earl recently suffered an insect or animal bite?
“A dangerous situation, Lady Ravenswood,” he intoned. “Extremely serious. You must prepare yourself for the worst, as the earl is very ill. Should he not awaken by morning, then I fear…well, let us pray circumstances are better by morning.”
Ivy sat frozen with terror during the doctor’s examination. It could not be explained how or why her robust and healthy husband was so vital that morning, but at Death’s doorstep by nightfall. There was her own perplexing illness to be considered, but Dr. Callahan did not believe the two to be related as the symptoms were not precisely the same.
The doctor left instructions; rest and cold compresses to be applied to the earl’s forehead and body to keep the fever down. Should the fever spike higher, ice baths would become necessary. A bloodletting was recommended, but when the instruments were pulled out for the procedure, Ivy quietly informed the man the only blood to be shed would be his own.
The devices were hastily packed away and the doctor took his leave.
Late in the night, for a few blessed seconds, Sebastian woke. A transient, lucid awareness lit his face and he stared at Ivy as if shocked to see her weeping so softly in a chair beside the bed. Remorse etched his features as he said in a gravelly whisper, "Ah, my little butterfly. What the hell have I done to you this time?"
He brushed his mouth across her knuckles until Ivy pulled away to pour cool water for him. As shudders rolled through him, she smoothed his hair from his fevered brow, holding the glass’s rim against his parched lips. “Sebastian…please, do not talk just now. Drink this.”
"Forgive me, love. Seems I’m always begging your forgiveness.” Moisture brightened his eyes as he drank his fill, then his head sagged forward in a struggle against the inevitable skid into unconsciousness.
“You must be strong, darling. For me.” Ivy pressed her lips to their tangled fingers. His skin was so hot, like a bright flame against her mouth.
“Ivy, promise me.” Fever left Sebastian twisting with pain. He brought her hand up to press it to his face.
“Anything, Sebastian.” Against the stubble roughened plane of his jaw, the coolness of her palm seemed to soothe him. She kept it there, willing to do anything to bring him comfort. “Anything.”
“Don’t leave me…don’t want…to be alone. Oh god, stay…Ivy, you must promise me. Stay.”
Ivy was frightened. More frightened than she had ever been in her life. This awful pain Sebastian suffered and her powerlessness to do anything for him eclipsed everything. Even the agony of losing her dear mother did not compare to this. She held his hand tight while his tears scalded her knuckles and she kissed his forehead until he drifted into a restless sleep plagued by nightmares. She could lose him forever this time. No matter how tight she held to him…he might slip away. Before she could tell him how much she loved him. I cannot live without him. Why did she continue to deny what was in her heart? She was so tired of fighting it. Tired of walling herself off from the love Sebastian repeatedly gave her. Sebastian loved her. She loved him. She never stopped loving him, even when he crushed her heart and destroyed her.
“Come back to me, my love.” Kissing his cheek, Ivy found his skin clammy and hot against her lips. “Come back to me.”
Was it a dream? A nightmare? Or a hallucination.
Sebastian’s stomach clenched with excruciating spirals, contracting with such painful sharpness he could only gasp. Icy torrents of his own musky sweat drenched him. He tried pulling his hand from the loose grip, to caress the soft mane of chestnut colored hair spilling across his forearm, but he was too weak. Frustration mounted as the pain in his belly grew into an unbearable ache. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever experienced before, but he welcomed it. He needed it. To feel something...something real. Tangible. It meant he was still alive.
Was Ivy really here? Holding his hand? Were those her tears splashing his fingers? Every drop scorched him, burning like salty acid on his skin. Then her lips brushed his flesh, the caustic blistering soothed by sweet coolness. Her kisses were numbing flecks of ice dousing waves of fire. She whispered something, words he could not quite make out. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, to focus on the dark head bent over him. Oblivion encroached once more to envelop him within a silky, inky darkness. Long, black fingers reached for him, grabbing his face and his body, his hair...
No, no, no… He struggled to hold as the tunnel sucked him down. Ivy’s face floated above him, blue-green eyes wide. Terrified. For him
Please, Ivy, Ivy, don't let me go. Don't let me go...keep me with you.
Chapter 41
Sebastian drifted in a no man’s land of unconsciousness and elusive lucidity. A high fever gripped him despite the cold compresses and numerous soakings with ice cloths. Incessant nausea meant nothing substantial stayed on his stomach, although he held down sips of water for periods of time. The discovery of a strange, pale rash erupting on his stomach and thighs the next morning proved cause for great concern.
With the breaking of dawn, Lady Garrett was the first to visit the sickroom, slipping in with the maids as they arrived to carry away soiled bedclothes and linens. Distressed over Sebastian’s lack of recovery during the night, a distinct shade of green discolored her pinched features. Mumbling something about increased prayers for her nephew, she rushed back out, and Ivy was not saddened to see her go.
The doctor was scheduled to return sometime after breakfast. Ivy swallowed against the flip-flopping in her stomach at what he might say. The rash inflaming Sebastian’s body alarmed her more than she cared to admit; even more so when Gabriel blinked twice at the sight of it.
Dr. Callahan did the same. Blinked twice, then reached for his bag to pull out the same instruments Ivy demanded be put away the day before.
“What are you doing, Dr. Callahan?” The position placed Ivy between the elderly man and her husband. Molly, William and Miss Agnes, stood to the side, watching the impending confrontation. Gabriel, sitting guard again by the door, narrowed his eyes.
“Lady Ravenswood, I had my suspicions yesterday. This rash confirms it. His Lordship is the victim of poisoning. Whether intentional or not, I cannot say, but if the infected blood is not removed, it is unlikely he will survive another day. As it is, the earl is tremendously fortunate to have lived this long.” Running a hand through a shock of white hair, Dr. Callahan subjected Ivy to a stern glare over the rim of his wire spectacles. His mouth no longer curved with a sympathetic smile and there no were soft murmurs of comfort for the wife of his patient. His manner turned brisk and cool. “It is only speculation, but I believe His Lordship’s exceptional physical condition has enabled his survival thus far.”
“Poisoned?” Ivy stuttered in shock. “That’s - that’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Dr. Callahan placed a small canvas bag on the table, rolling it open to reveal an array of lancets, tubing and a small box with tiny, razor-like blades protruding from it. “We rarely travel in the same social circles, my lady, but even I’ve heard rumors of His Lordship’s enemies. Is it that unreasonable to assume someone wished him harm, and took steps to see the deed done?”
“But how?” Ivy’s arms and legs felt as if they were suddenly carved of stone. Enemies? The Earl of Clayton and Lord Danbury. Brandon Madsen. The new Duke of Richeforte. Oh God...there were more than a few to consider. The room seemed so tiny all of a sudden, every bit of the air sucked out until she was dizzy and lightheaded.
Her eyes latched on the lancets, mesmerized by their shiny, cruel beauty. Behind her, Molly choked on a little hiccup of a sob; Miss Agnes crossed herself and whispered a prayer.
/> Bloodletting was an accepted practice of curing many diseases and ailments, although Ivy never quite believed in the concept. Her mother insisted upon the procedure during the last few months of her illness, convinced it would restore her health. But every visit by the doctor only resulted in an increasing fragility until Caroline eventually faded away, like a pale golden light slowly blocked out by a bigger, brighter world. This was not the answer to making Sebastian well. Ivy believed with every thread of her soul this treatment would weaken him, depleting his body and strength until there was nothing left.
Dr. Callahan noted the grim loyalty of the servants and Ivy’s stricken features, unwilling to completely dismiss the fact Her Ladyship had tended her husband faithfully, and with the utmost care, for the past forty-eight hours. She appeared ready for the sickbed herself, but it was no secret this couple quarreled in full view of the ton just two weeks prior. “Perhaps someone intimately associated with milord might be the culprit?”
Like a mountain unfolding, Gabriel’s huge form was both sheltering and intimidating when he moved to Ivy’s side. “It’s time the doctor took his leave,” he growled. “Another physician can be procured, milady. One with yours and His Lordship’s interests at heart.
Dr. Callahan swallowed hard but still busied himself drawing stark white bandages and other items from the bag. “If I don’t remove the blood poisoning this man’s body, he will die. It’s only a matter of time.”
“If you do this, he will die. Perhaps even quicker,” Ivy argued.
Molly and Miss Agnes stepped closer to William while Gabriel brazenly took up a stance beside the bed, guarding it like a bulldog. Brody, arriving to check the earl’s prognosis, paused in the doorway, a last-minute witness to the scene. Judging from the ominousness expression on his face, he’d heard enough. Catching Ivy’s eye, he gave an infinitesimal shake of his head.
