'Lill!'

'Yes?'

'Just a little hint! Please! I'm dying here!'

I grinned. Because even though she'd spoken the words I most feared to hear in the world, for the very first time, she didn't really sound as if she meant them.

'All right.' I nodded graciously. 'One little hint.'

'Yes? Yes?'

I considered carefully. What could I tell her about Mr Rikkard Ambrose without giving away who he was?

'His tailcoat is ten years old,' I told her.

Ella looked at me, aghast. 'Ten ears? Good Lord, the poor man must be destitute!'

I snorted into my sleeve. Ella, God bless her, mistook it for a sob.

'There, there.' Lifting a trembling hand, she patted my arm. 'The money isn't what matters. No matter how poor he is, if he loves you, he must be a good man. I'm sure the two of you will be happy together. If Uncle Bufford gives his consent, that is. I don't think he'll be very enthusiastic when he hears you intend to marry a man in such circumstances.'

'Oh, I don't know. He might surprise you.'

She gave me a warm smile. 'Bless you, Lill. It's good of you to think so well of him.' The smile melted into a frown of worry. 'But you really should be on your guard. Don't spring the news on him. It might come as a shock.'

'Oh, I'm quite certain it will.'

She patted my arm again. 'Don't worry. I'll be there to help. Together we'll convince him. And I'll talk to your man, too. I'll tell him that even if he hasn't got two pennies to rub together, I will always love him like a brother.'

'I'm sure he will be delighted to hear that. Here, take another swallow, will you?'

'Only if you tell me more about him. Where is he from? How did the two of you meet?'

'Later. Once you're better.'

She opened her mouth to protest and, not being one to waste an opportunity, I put the glass to her lips and started pouring before she could say a word. Reluctantly, she started to swallow, glaring at me over the top of her glass.

I smiled. Curiosity. Not the most typical of cures, but so what? Ella was my sister after all. It definitely would have worked on me.

The last drops of water vanished between Ella's lips. I lowered the glass, and quickly, she opened her mouth to speak.

'Here,' I said and shoved a piece of carrot between her lips. 'Bon appetit.'

'Mmph! Mm mph gmph!'

'Yes, delicious, aren't they?'

Reaching over to the nightstand, I let my hand hover over the bowl of carrots for a moment—then shifted to the left and reached into the bowl full of ham sandwiches instead. Edmund really was such a loving, caring man. He would make a good husband for Ella. I'd have to visit them for lunch once they were settled.

Over the next few days, Ella slowly but surely began to improve. More and more often, she was able to keep down her food. Her skin ceased to resemble dried old parchment, and life came back into her eyes. As for the amount of merde I had to smuggle out of her room on a regular basis—that was still considerable. More than once, I wished I had Mr Ambrose's talent for waste disposal. Still, as Ella's general condition improved, those symptoms also slowly started to abate.

'Miss Linton?'

I looked up. I had just come out of Ella's room with a bag of...well, smelly things that I'd rather not think about, when Edmund came around the corner and strode toward me, a broad smile on his face, hiding something behind his back.

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