Page 50 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“I know.” He smiled as he embraced his sister, then took a step back. “This is certainly an unexpected visit.”
“Can a sister not surprise her brother?” Then her face suddenly blanched, the smile fading away. “Goodness, Horace… what are you doing out here? Why are you not in bed?”
“You see a man with more strength in him,” he assured her. “Much more than I used to have.”
She didn’t look convinced. She chewed her lip until it was as pink as the violently pink hued muff on her wrist.
“Come, come, let’s get you back inside.” She took his arm as if he was a child, trying to steer him back inside.
“I am not made of porcelain, Lavinia. I’ll survive. I’ve walked around the cemetery this morning.”
“You have? Goodness, I see standards have fallen slack here since I have left.” She strode toward the house, wafting a hand toward it with her muff. “You must forgive my unexpected arrival, brother, but it looks as if I have good reason to come. You need taking care of again.”
I am being well taken care of, thank you.
His eyes flicked to the nearest window, searching out the face of Orla. It seemed that bath he had been dreaming of with Orla’s hands upon him would have to wait.
Chapter 15
“Who is that?” Orla asked, pressing a hand to the cold window of the Baron’s chamber and peering outside.
“Oh, no.” Esther sighed heavily. She’d stood up from where she was attending to the fires, brushing the ash from her apron as she came to the window. “We did not know she was coming. Oh, she always has such high standards. This house is turned on its head and in turmoil, even when we have a month’s notice of her being here. Oh, God’s wounds!” Esther wailed and hurried back to the fire. She collected her fire bucket and tucked away the sheet she had placed in front of the hearth to catch all the ash.
“Yes, but who is it?” Orla asked again.
The lady was incredibly elegant. She had long copper hair, almost ginger. Curled madly beneath an excessively fine headdress, she was a strong presence to behold. She had large lips; her smile dominating her features, and quick dark eyes that took in the view of Ingleby Hall fast.
The way she took the baron’s arm was the thing that bothered Orla the most. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the lady’s finely gloved hand as it slipped through the baron’s elbow.
“She seems very…intimatelyacquainted with him.” Orla struggled to keep her voice level. Was this one of the ladies that used to frequent this house back when the baron was in fine health? Was this one of the ladies he had charmed?
“She should be as his sister.” Esther tossed the bucket over her shoulder.
Orla’s stomach at once unknotted, and she sighed with relief. The jealousy had been quick and all-consuming.
“I must tell the other maids. We’ll have to arrange a room for her at once.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Orla murmured. She didn’t move to follow Esther. For a minute, she just watched the baron and his sister together as they approached the house. It seemed to her mind that the baron didn’t get a word in edgeways, for his sister spoke so much.
Once they disappeared into the house, Orla moved to place fresh buckets of water onto the fire that Esther had prepared. With the water heating through, she then reached for her supplies of soaps and herbs. She sprinkled some of the fresh restorative herbs into the bath, in particular, inhaling the scent of the meadowsweet, confident it would help him.
She was tidying up her bottles when she kicked something under the copper bathtub. Reaching down, she picked up another small glass vial. Believing it was one of her own, she carried it toward her bag at the side of the room, and then hesitated.
This was not one of hers. The vial was tiny, no bigger than her thumb, and near the top it was heavily corked, with a narrow neck. Clearly, whatever this vial had contained, it was designed to come out slowly and not too quickly. The substance had tobe controlled. She uncorked the bottle and placed it to her nose, giving it a hefty sniff. Yet the bottle had to have been empty for too long, for she could smell nothing.
“Curious,” she murmured. She placed the bottle back down on a table nearby and returned to preparing the soaps and herbs for the baron’s bath.
She stood beside the bath as she poured in the first bucket of water, swirling her hand through the soft depths. She smiled at the water, thinking of the promise that the baron had just made her.
Despite the kindness of his words, and what they meant to her, was she wrong to wish he hadn’t made that promise? The thought that there was this mutual attraction between them, a longing that could never be acted on, made her heart ache.
The door creaked open.
“My Lord–” She turned around to face him and then broke off.
“See? You must listen to me, brother.”
“I always listen to you, Lavinia. I have to. You don’t stop talking,” the baron said in jest.
