Page 90 of Mending the Baron's Sins
Walter didn’t answer, but he tried to throw one of the armchairs back across at Horace. Easily, Horace batted it out of the way. Walter tripped over the chair that had already fallen over, falling flat on his back, though it didn’t stop him from trying to scramble away.
“How long did you know I was being poisoned? For how long did you let me suffer in that house, an invalid, not raising a hand to help me?” Horace stopped walking, allowing Walter to scramble to his feet again, though Walter hid against the wall, cowering in the shadow of the mantelpiece. “Did you hate me that much? Were you that jealous that my death was preferable?”
Walter didn’t have any more words. He stood there, breathing heavily, his shoulders heaving up and down with the movement.
“You’re worse than Colm, Walter.”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Walter suddenly bawled like a child. “You left me with no choice! You were going to take the business from me? You already have everything I could ever want, and oh look, I finally have a woman I’m interested in, awoman for a change that is interested in me and not you, then she meets you and…” He held his hands up in the air, helplessly. “You always had to be the center of everything, didn’t you?”
“I never wanted Miss Bonneville’s attentions, Walter,” Horace said, his voice quiet now. “And I had to get rid of the business because you were determined to defraud everyone and drive our workers to the ground. Don’t put this down to me getting what you want. This is down toyouractions.”
Walter blinked, his back curling forward. Strength had suddenly left him.
The door opened behind the pair of them. Horace looked around to see Adam standing in the doorway, though he was not alone. At his side was a constable in uniform.
“He has just admitted it,” Horace said in horror, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. “Arrest him, Constable, for attempted murder.”
“No!” Walter wailed, but he didn’t fight. He slid down the wall and crouched on the floor, the image of a toddler having a tantrum.
The constable nodded and walked toward Walter.
“You have to come with me now, sir.”
Horace backed away, reaching for the door, where Adam caught his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Adam asked. Horace inhaled sharply, thinking before he answered.
“No.” It was an honest answer. He turned his head toward the window, where he saw at the far end of the estate beyond the gates that Orla hadn’t managed to stay in the carriage. She was standing outside and peering through the gate toward him, full of anticipation. “But I will be all right.”
“Come, let’s get out of here.” Adam steered him out of the room.
Chapter 27
Two Weeks Later
“Are you ready?” Horace asked.
Orla nodded, looking down at the portmanteau at her feet. It was quickly taken away by one of the footmen, who hurried out of the house toward the carriage.
“Are you?” she asked Horace.
He glanced at the hallway of Ingleby, just the trace of a smile on his lips. She knew that smile very well by now and knew what it meant entirely. He was completely content with his decision.
“You have no idea how much,” he whispered. “I’ll be outside.”
She nodded but did not follow straight away. Outside in the courtyard, she could hear the muffled conversation. The staff had gathered to wish them goodbye, and her family had come to wave her off too for her journey to London.
Adam was out there too, perhaps one of the saddest to see them go, though she had heard his promises relentlessly over the last couple of weeks to Horace, how he had vowed to look afterIngleby Hall as much as he possibly could, and to ensure the safety of the tenants while Horace moved onto the next stage in his life.
Left alone in the hallway, Orla turned in a small circle. A lot had happened in the few months that she had been at Ingleby Hall, and though some of what had passed she was very sorry for indeed, she knew from the depths of her heart how happy she was that she had come to Ingleby in the end.
Everything has changed, because of him…
She smiled at the thought of Horace, nearly ready to follow him out of the door.
Before she left, she reached into her reticule that hung from her wrist and pulled out a newspaper, reading the headlines hurriedly. Every day she had checked for Colm’s name in the paper, but it was mysteriously absent from it.
Horace had assured her the night before that the constable had traced Colm’s escape back to Ireland, where he was beyond their reach. When she had questioned why the papers had not once mentioned Colm’s poisoning, Horace had revealed to her a secret of his own—he’d worked hard to keep Colm’s name out of the papers.
