Page 68 of Mending the Baron's Sins
Maybe I am a little afraid of what liking Horace truly means for me. Maybe I need to confront what it actually is that I feel, and where this is taking us.
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As Orla reached the house, she deposited the basket quickly in her chamber. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to calm the pink of her cheeks by wafting her hands in front of her face. She also tried to tuck her hair into its updo properly, though a few tendrils escaped and hung loose down by her neck. It would have to do. She felt she had to see Horace now.
She left her chamber and hastened through the house, searching for him. On her journey back with Esther, listening to the wayEsther had spoken of George, had made Orla realize something most acutely.
She not only cared for Horace, and neither was she just attracted to him. Her heart was completely his if he wanted it. It was why she had felt so safe in his arms when he had embraced her. It was why too, despite his profession of sins and condemning himself for the past, she thoroughly believed in his good heart and his determination to change his life for the better.
He is a good man, with a good heart, and it is that which I have come to love so much.
She giggled at the thought of loving the baron and hastened down the stairs, certain now that her cheeks were as red as tomato skins. She saw Lady Marbourne taking tea in the living room and tiptoed past the open doorway, seeing the marchioness was giving another of the maids a hard time by insisting she hadn’t started the fire correctly, nor positioned the fire screen in the right place. The maid hurried to do her orders as Orla tiptoed past the open doorway.
She headed to another part of the house where she knew Horace liked to spend his time. She tapped on the open door and peered inside.
Sat in a chair behind the desk, surrounded by paperwork, was Horace. He didn’t even notice her knock at first, for he was so fixed on the papers in front of them, reading them intently.
“Horace?” she called to him softly.
His chin jerked up. He stood too, in danger of knocking the chair over behind him. He hurried to right it as she stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind her.
“Orla?” he said. “There you are. I’ve been wanting to see you, to talk to you.”
She smiled and walked toward him across the room. Now, seeing they were completely alone, she didn’t hesitate from walking into his arms. The look of concern that had been on his face a minute before now vanished. He smiled warmly and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’ve missed this,” he whispered.
“It’s only been a day apart.”
“Ha! I’ve missed it anyway,” he confessed. They leaned away from one another, and she nodded down at his desk.
“Look how much better you’re feeling. You’re at your desk again, working. This is such good news.”
“Thank you.” Yet as he said the words, he perched on the edge of the desk. Fearing he might be feeling dizzy again, she stepped near to him, placing her hand on his arm.
“Is something wrong?” she whispered. “Dizzy?”
“It’s only the effect you have on me.” He winked at her, and she tapped him on the arm in reprimand.
“Charmer,” she murmured. They laughed together, though his expression turned serious very quickly indeed. “What is it? Something is wrong?”
“Not so much with my health today.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.
She had been about to tell him she loved him, that her heart was his if she wanted it, that she didn’t know what this meant, whether he would make anything of her declaration or not, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she was not afraid to tell him how she felt, not after the conversation with Esther where she had seen her friend running from her feelings.
Yet Horace’s behavior brought her up short.
He is afraid to speak of something with me.
“What worries you?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle.
“My sister has been talking about how I should move down south,” he said hurriedly, the words escaping him in a rush. “She’s talked of London, and most particularly of Bath.”
“Yes, I have heard her talk so.” She nodded, thinking of the evening when Lady Marbourne had encouraged her to help persuade Horace to go to Bath. Orla had decidedly never said anything to Horace, believing it was completely up to him where he thought his future should be. “Are you… considering it?”
Her stomach knotted tight as she watched his expression. He was no longer looking at her but down at the papers at his side, as if he was searching for anywhere else in that room to look at but at her.
“I…” he began slowly.
