Page 23 of Mending the Baron's Sins
She hadn’t quite given herself that release, hadn’t dared think of the baron giving her that final need that she all so badly desired.
“What is wrong with me?” she murmured aloud. She flung herself from the bed, reaching for the basin of water at the side of the room. She washed her hand and lifted the chemise around her hips, wiping off all signs of her arousal from her center, too.
There is so much to be ashamed of.
He was a baron, so high above her in terms of class, it was outrageous to desire him in the first place. He was also her patient, and any such soft thoughts of him were highly inappropriate. He was also arrogant and proud.
He hadn’t seemed it tonight alone in his chamber.
“You fool,” she muttered darkly. She dried herself as quickly as she could and hastened back to the bed, determined not to think of Baron De Rees again that night.
***
Orla looked through the books in her lap again.
It was chilly outside in the February air, the ground frosted beneath her shoes and the bitter wind turning the pages of the books even when she was not ready for the next page, yet she was determined to escape out her in spite of the cold.
All morning, she had been avoiding going into the house to see Baron De Rees. She was glad her uncle had returned that morning, for he had attended on the baron ever since, and she had made the excuse that she wanted to look through her uncle’s old notes on the baron’s condition, hoping they would help.
Perhaps the baron knows I am avoiding him.
She thrust the thought out of her mind and turned the page.
All night, she had scarcely been able to sleep, for heated dreams of the baron kept disturbing her. After a somewhat sleepless night, she had awoken in the early hours of the morning, quit the house and come outside.
“What the…?” she whispered as she turned the page. There was something in her old uncle’s notes she couldn’t make out. The words were written so haphazardly, she could only presume that her uncle had written them in haste when the baron was at his worst.
She turned back to the first page and read what the baron’s first symptoms were.
Headaches, tiredness, muscle and joint ache. Forgetfulness and lack of concentration.
She frowned at the words, just as the paper bristled in the wind. The baron had not mentioned some of these symptoms, and from what she could see, he could concentrate well enough at the moment. In the few days she had been at Ingleby Hall, she had seen he’d nearly finished readingMacbeth.A man of little concentration would not have managed that endeavor.
“Hmm, his symptoms have changed then.”
She put the notebook down in her lap and looked up across the land, trying to consider what could explain the baron’s condition. As various ideas came to her head, each one as unlikely as the last, something caught her eye.
At the far end of the garden, the open stable yard gave way to a paddock, where she saw George trying to train a young mare. He kept urging the mare away, who would return to him again, trotting happily. He laughed and patted the mare’s nose, then turned to notice that Orla was watching him. He waved, beckoning her over to the adjoining fence.
She placed the books behind her on the bench and stood straight, wrapping her shawl around her to fight off the breeze as she walked toward George.
“Morning, Miss Orla,” he said happily. “Fine day, isn’t it?”
“Well, the sun is shining.” Though she purposefully shivered in the breeze.
“How are you this morning?”
“Well enough.”
He must have sensed her unease with talking this morning. She would put it down to being overtired if he asked. She would certainly avoid mentioning Baron De Rees.
“If you want a distraction from whatever it is troubling you, this mare needs a ride.” He nodded at the soft-natured gray horse before him. “She’s a good one. She will not throw you off.”
The corner of Orla’s lips flickered up at the idea into a smile. It had been a long time since she had ridden. Back home, they scarcely had time for such things in the center of Manchester.
“Yes, please,” she said with a nod.
“Come into the paddock, and I’ll get her saddled for you.”
