Page 47 of Mending the Baron's Sins
Chapter 14
“How are you today, my lord?” Colm’s entry left Horace feeling both sad and relieved.
“A little tired, but not bad.” He had barely slept, not just because of the torment of his mind before Orla had arrived in the middle of the night, but after she had left, too.
She was beautiful, young, talented, and had a good heart. She had a good life ahead of her, and his desire for her would surely only ruin her reputation. He had even put their situation to an extreme in his mind. What if they indulged together, and he ended up getting her with child? What would become of her life and happiness then?
No, she deserved much better than him.
From now on, I keep my hands to myself.
“I hope you don’t mind, but hearing of your excursion yesterday, I decided I would check on your myself today.” Colm opened his own bag. If he noticed that Orla had left hers behind in the room, he didn’t comment on it. He used some of her equipment as he examined Horace. “I’m curious. What did you find when you went to the factory?”
“Understanding. That’s what I found. I found shame too,” Horace confessed openly.
“You surely have nothing to be ashamed about, my lord.”
“You are a good man for saying so, Colm, but you’d be wrong.” Horace pulled on a fresh shirt as Colm finished taking his pulse. “I have much to be ashamed about.”
Colm poured out his latest dose of laudanum and placed it on the table beside Horace. He glanced at the vial, then sat down beside it as he started to tie his cravat. Strangely, he was in no mood to take the laudanum. He wasn’t suffering pain or stomach cramps today, and his dizziness wasn’t so bad. He had expected his health to be worse after the jaunt the day before, but he had been wrong.
“Well, you seem in well enough health, my Lord,” Colm said with a smile. “Though I urge you to take caution. Too much at once could set you back again.”
“I know.” Horace reached for the vial of laudanum and lifted it to his lips, but he didn’t quite drink. As Colm turned away, he placed it back down on the table. Maybe he’d take it in a bit instead, if he was suffering pain. “Orla…” Horace began, uncertain how to speak of her.
“What about her?” Colm asked as he mixed up a salve in a pestle and mortar. It was supposed to be a soothing balm for the head, though Horace found he’d rather have the salve that Orla could create. When he had a headache, that cooling sensation worked far better.
“She is talented,” Horace murmured. “She could probably find a better post elsewhere.”
Colm halted in his work with the pestle and mortar.
“Is there something wrong? Has Orla not been attending to you properly?”
“Far from it.” Horace waved a hand in assurance, relieved when he saw Colm’s expression soften. “Indeed, I think she is excellent at her job, hence the suggestion. She might be worthy of something better than here.”
“Ah, what poor Orla wants, though, she sadly cannot get.”
“What do you mean?” Horace stood and pulled his own boots on. When he was finished, he stood straight, startled to realize that he hadn’t felt dizzy even when he leaned forward to tie up the hessian boots.
“She had ambitions of being a midwife,” Colm explained, adding something more to the mixture in his mortar.
“Yes, she mentioned it once. What happened?”
“I knew of a skilled midwife in London, so offered to send Orla to her for an apprenticeship. Her parents were uncertain, but agreed she could go if she wished to.” He paused, lifting his head. “Many men are becoming involved in midwifery lately, and though some are learning the knowledge of women, I have seen firsthand how some men do what theythinkshould be done, rather than what women know works. Orla was keen to play her part.”
“What happened?” Horace asked, no longer working to ready himself for the day and thinking only of Orla.
“Her former betrothed made sure the position vanished. He put some rumors about town about her skills, pulled strings, as it were. Next thing we knew, the offer of the apprenticeship was withdrawn.” Colm cursed under his breath. “It was a disgusting act.”
“Betrothed?” Horace spluttered. He sat down abruptly in his chair.
She never said. Not once. She never even alluded to a betrothed.
Then he thought of the way he and Orla had kissed. Was it possible she had kissed another man like that? Pressed her body to another man’s in such a way? The envy riled in his gut. Although he knew he had experience with women and had no right to feel jealous over what Orla had done with any other man, he could not stop the feeling.
“He was angered at her breaking off the connection, so he enacted his revenge. A cowardly and awful man if you ask me.” Colm sighed as he finished mixing the salve together. “Her mother is convinced they’ll make a good match. I, for one, can’t wait until we never hear the name Mr. Frederick Baker again.”
“She deserves so much better.”
