Page 4 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“Weak,” he muttered aloud.
Cursing once more, he picked up the shards of glass, gathering them together in the palm of his hand. As he stood, he staggered to the side, struggling to find his balance, then dropped the shards into a bowl on one of his bureaus.
“Horace?” A hand caught his shoulder.
“God’s blood!” Horace exclaimed in alarm, flinging his body around to see that Adam was in his room. “How did you get in here?”
“I knocked a couple of times.” Adam offered the easy smile that was always on his face. His cousin and good friend, the one who had taken over the running of the house and estate in Horace’s infirmity, stood before him. “I’m sorry to give you such a fright.” Adam laughed softly.
Horace yearned for the comfort his cousin could bring. They did not look particularly different, the same height, the same dark copper hair, though Horace’s was longer these days and Adam’s was cut short. The main difference between them was that at least Adam had a healthy look to his skin and a little more weight on his bones.
Adam had a habit of bringing easy humor with him wherever he went. It was something Horace longed for, when he was tired of being shut up in this room for days on end, all on his own.
“How about you take a rest in bed?” Adam suggested, then glanced down at Horace’s hand. “You cut yourself on that glass you threw.”
“What?” Horace looked distractedly at his hand. “Oh. It’s nothing.” He dabbed the cut dry with a cloth. “I don’t need to go back to bed.” When he staggered and ended up leaning against the bedpost, he cursed once more. “I’m still not going back to bed.”
“Very well.” Adam cleared up some more of the mess of broken glass shards that Horace hadn’t even realized he’d left behind. “How about a walk around the farms? Let’s go get some air. You used to love riding in the farmland and fields.”
“I know I did, but…” Horace wished he could say yes. “No. I need to save my energy.” He rubbed his brow in stress. “I’m sorry for my outburst, if you heard it. Walter came again.”
“Ah, what did he do this time?” Adam dropped the bits of glass with the others into a bowl, then turned and took Horace’s shoulders. When Horace dug his feet into the ground, refusing to be steered toward the bed, Horace took him to the low-lying ottoman in front of the lead-latticed window instead.
“He has made financial investments again. Joint investments, before even consulting me. The snake.”
“He’s your friend. Your dearest friend.”
“Is he?” Horace scoffed as he dropped down onto the ottoman, feeling more like a sack of potatoes than human at all. “I’m not so sure anymore, Adam. He is taking my money and investing it without my knowledge. For all I know, these could be scams, deceptions to deceive me out of money. He says he’s doing it all for me–to protect my money and avoid worrying me in mytime of need.”He was disgusted by the phrase that Walter had used.
Adam offered no words. He simply produced a glass of water and thrust it into Horace’s hands.
“Thank you,” Horace murmured and took a sip. There was something in the back of his mind that grated with these words.
Guilt. That’s what it is.
There was a time when he scarcely ever said thank you or showed any sort of politeness at all. Now confined to his bed, he was much more reliant on those words than he had once been. It also brought to home perhaps how many times he had been indebted to Adam for his help, and yet neglected to thank him for his kindness.
I am a different man these days, in so many ways.
He took another small sip from the glass, deep in thought.
“How does the estate fare?”
“All well, and your tenants are happy.” Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “I have written everything up for you, including my suggestions, and I’ll leave the papers for you here to look over when you’re feeling better. Rest, cousin. Please.” He squeezed Horace’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll call on you later, yes?”
“Very well.” He nodded, listening to the floorboards in the old house creak as Adam made his way to the door. “Adam?” hecalled as Adam reached the doorway and glanced back. “Thank you. Truly. For… everything.” His voice was deep, almost tremulous.
“Any time, cousin.” Adam winked and left, letting the door close softly behind him. The moment he was gone, Horace’s spine slumped.
Must I have everyone wait hand on foot for me?
Angered, he flung himself around on the ottoman as best as he could, cursing the sudden dizziness in his head at the movement. He gripped the old stone windowsill and veered forward, practically pressing his face flat to the glass as he stared out at the garden beyond.
Between the twiggy bushes that had shed their leaves walked two women. One he recognized. Esther, the maid, was walking with another woman beside her–one that Horace did not recognize.
He wiped the condensation from the glass as his breath clouded the window, peering at the woman more intently.
The dark brown hair was tied neatly into a chignon, though there was a single long lock that hung down and teased the nape of her neck. She was beautiful. There was no denying. The large eyes dominated her features, the full lips tempting Horace withimaginings he had not visited in months. She was small and lithe in build, almost doll like with the rosy tint of her cheeks.
