Page 62 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“Well, if I hadn’t been, I certainly would be after a shout like that.”
Lavinia stepped inside and he sat down in the nearest armchair by the fire, stretching out his legs. He yawned again, wondering which part of the evening the night before had overexerted him.
“Well?” she said insistently, stopping in front of him with his arms folded.
“Well, what?” He stiffened. Was it possible she knew what he had done?
“How can you say that? Your behavior last night!” She tutted loudly. “Honestly, Horace. You should not have talked business at the dining table.”
He sighed with relief and reached down to pull on his boots.
“It’s done, Lavinia. It cannot be undone now.”
“All this talk of changing your business? Do you not realize the risk involved?” She marched up and down in front of his fire. “Even I know such philanthropic endeavors can risk a business. No one likes an altruist, Horace.”
“Don’t they?” he said with such sudden sharpness that she stopped pacing. “Good lord, Lavinia. What is all of this truly about? Why have you turned up out of the blue? Why are you suddenly insisting you know my business better than me and demanding I move south?”
She had turned to face him, with sudden tears in her eyes.
“Lavinia?” He softened his voice. “What is it?”
“It’s… it’s my husband,” she whispered, suddenly capitulating down into the armchair behind her. “I could pretend it’s working, could I not? I could insist it is, as I have pretended tofor the last few years, but oh.” She gasped and broke off, closing her eyes.
Horace scrambled around for the nearest handkerchief. He picked one up off a table nearby and pressed it toward her.
“What are these tears for?” Horace whispered. “What did he do to you?”
“Oh, nothing like that.” She shook her head, blowing her nose into the handkerchief. “We just do not see eye to eye. Not in anything. I’m beginning to think he married me for few reasons, Horace. The dowry and because I was well liked. The ton liked me, and that’s what he wanted in a wife.”
“Reputation,” Horace added darkly, and she nodded.
“I cannot stand it,” she whispered miserably, staring down into the handkerchief. “We pretend to get along in front of others, but at home, we live apart in separate rooms. It is a lonely existence indeed. We discussed separation until I discovered…” She paused and laid a hand to her stomach.
“Lavinia.” Horace’s heart ached for his sister. He pulled his chair closer to hers. “A child is a wonderful thing. Please tell me you are happy with this news.”
She drummed her fingers lightly on her own abdomen.
“In a way, yes.” She nodded. “Other ways, no.” Her expression darkened. “My husband has threatened to flee England until the child is born. I quite fear that when he returns, he may take the child from me, making them his son or daughter, and not mine.” She gulped, trying to push past more tears as her eyes met Horace’s. “It is so lonely in London.”
“Ah.” Horace leaned forward in sudden realization. “You want me nearby for company and to fight your corner if it comes to it?”
“Is that so awful?” she asked in panic, leaning toward him. “You are my brother, Horace. We have always been there for one another.”
“That we have.” He took her hand in his own. “And I will always be there for you. I’ll fight your corner to the bitter end if it comes to it. Rest assured that your husband will not take your child away from you.”
She smiled sadly, then shook her head.
“But if you remain up here… I will not see you very often.” Her tone grew sadder still.
“This is my home, Lavinia. It always has been. I love it here,” he said urgently. “Just because I’m up here doesn’t mean I am any less supportive of you. I promise you that.”
Yet the words were clearly not what she had wanted to hear. She went back to staring at the handkerchief in her lap.
“I am needed here too,” he said softly. “I have employees, tenants–”
“The business has Walter, and Ingleby has Adam. I need you, Horace.”
“You have me,” he assured her, holding his hand over hers. “Trust me, you have my support wherever I live.”
