Page 9 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“Yet I sense you are both about to,” Orla said with a laugh. “Feel fry to pry away. What is it you would both like to know?”
George and Esther exchanged what appeared to be quite a worried glance, then Esther leaned forward and whispered in Orla’s ear.
“The baron,” she murmured, before pausing uneasily, “he was not forward with you, was he? He did not take liberties?”
“Liberties!” Orla repeated, only for Esther to step on her foot under the bench table to quieten her. “Ow.”
Mr. Kennedy glanced her way from the head of the table, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, but he said nothing more.
“No. What on earth made you ask that?” Orla looked between Esther and George.
“Well, it is the way the baron is.”
“Was,” George corrected around another bite of toast. “Before he fell ill, there was an entire troop of pretty women in these halls.”
“George, you know we shouldn’t say such things,” Esther said softly. He offered an apologetic smile and shrugged.
“I know, but we wanted to be sure she was safe all the same, didn’t we?” He nodded at Orla. “Apologies for our nosiness, but you’re a pretty girl. We feared he would be… you know.”
“I see.” Orla had quite lost interest in her toast now.
She was thinking of the baron upstairs and the idea that he would take liberties with any woman when he seemed so sharp of manner and sickly.
“What did he used to be like before he fell ill?” Orla pleaded with Esther in a whisper.
“Oh, voracious,” she said with a giggle. “He was quite the charmer, dashing indeed, a dapper gentleman. Not a dandy, you understand, for he was never so flippant of manner, but handsome and deeply…” She sighed, making George frown beside her.
“Esther,” he said in a deep tone.
“I was never charmed by him,” she murmured hurriedly, her cheeks blushing red, though George continued to stare at her.
Is that a hint of jealousy I see before me?
Yet Orla kept the thought to herself.
“He is the owner of a large textile company in the city,” Esther began to explain. “He was the apple of everyone’s eye in the city. Athletic, a fine rider, and a charming socialite. There were balls and parties in this house every week.
After his grand tour across Europe, he returned home, and it was presumed he must have caught a sickness from abroad, because he was confined to his chamber shortly after. He became a hermit, a recluse, and the man that was once so treasured and adored by the ton became resented for avarice.”
“Avarice? Why?”
“You know Godly men.” George rolled his eyes with these words. “They say a man’s sickness must be a punishment from God. That was five years ago now. The man had scarcely been out of that room or this house since.”
“God’s wounds,” Orla muttered under her breath.
She didn’t know what to think of first.
There was the idea that Baron De Rees had once been a charmer, perhaps a rake, and for some reason, she found the idea greatlyexciting. She considered the way he had snatched the vial from her hands, the way their fingers had brushed upon the glass, then imagined him taking her hand in quite a different way.
Such warmth spread through her at the idea, such excitement, that she bit her lip as her heart began to hammer in her chest again at the mere thought.
She could hardly be a healer and not know what could happen between men and women when alone together in bedchambers. She knew very well what they could share. The notion that Baron De Rees had experience of such things and could introduce a lady to what they were had her shivering now.
“Are you cold?” Esther asked. “The fire is not particularly large in here. I could add another log to it?”
“No, no, do not worry yourself,” Orla said quickly, fearing that someone would realize her shiver was not from the cold at all, but curiosity about Baron De Rees’ touch. “Has any other healer attended the baron in all that time other than my uncle?”
In unison, George and Esther shook their heads.
