Page 25 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“Orla, I need your help with something.” Colm leaned upon the fence between them. “The baron has received a letter this morning.”
The baron reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the letter, turning it over in his thin hands as he did so. Orla gazed at those hands, knowing how distracted she had been thinking about them the night before. It struck her that they were a little too thin. He needed to eat more, to continue to build up his strength. She decided to bring him something more substantial again the next time he ate.
“It is from my friend, Walter Gladstone.”
She tried not to bristle at the mention of the man’s name. She had much to resent him for, seeming as he owned the businessup the road from her parents that was putting them out of business, and owned the factories jointly with the baron, which could be making men and boys like her brother ill.
“He writes asking if he can come for dinner with the lady he is courting,” the baron said with a clear attempt at ease. “I am intending on accepting the proposal.”
“Ah.” She stared at him, open-mouthed.
“You have the same disbelieving look as your uncle, Miss Byrne.”
“Ah, there is a compliment,” Colm said with a chuckle.
The baron met her eyes for the first time, something of an apology in his eyes. There was softness there, enough to make her fidget between her feet.
“You do not think it wise?” he questioned her.
“I am eager for you to get your strength back, it’s true,” she said hurriedly. “But a dinner means heavy alcohol, and many courses of food. That is a lot for a stomach that is not used to eating so much to take.”
“You wanted me to eat a hearty meal.”
“Hearty, yes, but there is a difference between that and overindulgence.” She could see she had crossed the line now. He frowned at her, then lifted his gaze and looked over her head at the mare in the paddock.
“Orla is right, my lord,” Colm said in a pleading tone. “Delay it for a short while. You can have this dinner another time.”
“I have been sick for five years. Am I to avoid every dinner that comes my way? Besides, I would be doing a favor for my friend.”
Orla bit her lip, tempted to say that Mr. Gladstone was some friend when he was going to put his sick friend to such trouble.
“I just do not think it wise,” she said again.
The baron looked between the two of them. All signs of softness or familiarity that she had seen in his expression the night, even understanding, were now gone. In its place was a sharpness that she remembered from the first day she had met him.
“I am still the master of Ingleby Hall, am I not?” His voice had deepened.
Orla released the fence and turned back to the horse. She didn’t need to hear the rest to know he was going to refuse outright.
“I will hold this dinner. No questions about it,” he called to her to still be heard as she pulled the mare back in the direction of the stable.
“Do as you like, Lord De Rees,” she called back to him. “We all knew you would,” she added quietly, just to herself.
All closeness, all intimacy between them the night before, now seemed vanished.
Chapter 8
“I’ll be fine,” Horace insisted as he tried to stand from his chair to pull his tailcoat on. He managed to put one arm into the sleeve before his head swayed from dizziness and he sank back down into the chair again.
He could feel Adam’s eyes upon him, though he could not see them. He knew what that gaze must have meant; suspicion if this really was a good idea.
“I have to do this, Adam,” Horace said emphatically, his head hung forward. He wiped the sweat off his brow.
“I know.” Adam’s acceptance rather than questioning his decision gave Horace the greatest of comfort. He sat back in the chair, holding onto the tailcoat in his lap. “All I ask is this. Are you holding this dinner for you? Or for Walter?”
“Both,” Horace answered honestly as Adam stepped up beside him. The dizziness abated for long enough that Horace could look him in the eye. “Walter has asked it of me.” Adam cocked an eyebrow, showing in his silence that he thought this was not a good enough reason to do anything. “It’s been so long since we had a dinner here. Do you remember the glory days? Dinners and balls here every week?”
“How could I forget?” Adam said with a sudden smile. He turned and picked up the herbal tea that Orla had brought a short while ago to the room. She’d passed into the room quickly and out again, without a word, and though Horace had longed to speak to her, he had no idea what to say after their last encounter in this room.
