Page 57 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“I am a great believer in taking care of the lower classes, but one must be careful between care and charity.”
“And what exactly is caring about slavery?” Adam asked. Horace smiled a little at his cousin’s determination to speak, though judging by the way Adam flinched, Lavinia had kicked him under the table too.
“My father is giving these men and women a life. A life they would not have had otherwise.”
“Maybe it’s not the life they wanted.” For Adam’s words, he got kicked so strongly this time that he actually flinched in his seat. Horace laid a hand on Lavinia’s arm to try to stop her, but she was breathing fast, embarrassed at the turn their conversation had taken.
“Miss Bonneville is right,” Walter declared. “We do enough for our workers. I see no reason to change it. We give them a life; we give them employment. They should be grateful for that.”
And we may just be sending them to an early grave at the same time.
Horace parted his lips, ready to argue again, but Lavinia beat him to it.
“Shall we talk about something else, yes? That is quite enough talk of business for one night. Miss Bonneville, while you are in England, you must come and call on me in London. If we can persuade my brother to come, I am sure he would escort you to balls and assemblies.”
Will I? I have no intention of taking Miss Bonneville anywhere.
Horace took a heft gulp of his cordial, doing his best to ignore the steely gaze of Walter and the fluttering eyelashes of Miss Bonneville beside him.
***
“Well, it was an eventful night,” Lavinia said with a sigh as she walked up the stairs later that evening, with Horace beside her.
He held onto the banister, gripping tight as he usually did in order to keep his weight supported, yet when he reached the top of the stairs, he looked down, realizing that he could have walked the stairs with ease.
“Conversation was not what I hoped it would be,” Lavinia tutted, turning at the top of the stairs as she carried a candle. “Horace, you know you cannot have such conversations in front of guests.”
“I was with my business partner,” he reminded her, leaning on the banister at the top of the stairs.
“Yes, and a guest. What was Miss Bonneville otherwise? Just smoke and no woman at all?”
“She is a woman intent on flattery and getting ahead in life. Clearly, she gave Walter enough attention to give him hope of a courtship. I think the fool may even have fallen a little in love with her, and yet she comes here and starts throwing her cap at me. Probably because I have a title and Walter does not.”
“And what is wrong with a woman being ambitious?” Lavinia turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “Wanting a title is not wrong.”
Is it not?
Horace had much he wanted to say in response, but he was tired of arguments. He’d certainly had enough of them for one night.
“Goodnight, Lavinia,” he said, softening his voice.
Her hard look turned gentle. She stepped toward him and laid a hand on his arm.
“I am glad to see you doing so much better, Horace. I hope it stays this way.” She patted his arm once again. “Goodnight.”
Horace waited for her to go, then hastened to his chamber, carrying a candle with him. He stepped inside, dropping down the candle on the mantelpiece and turning around on the spot. He ran his hands through his copper hair, feeling the stress palpable in the air.
“What a God-awful night!” he muttered aloud. He could have gone to bed at once. He could have written this off as a very bad day indeed, wanting nothing more to do with it, but strangely, he felt invigorated. He was confident that if he went to bed, he would not sleep.
I have not had this much energy in years.
Without really thinking, he reached for the bell pull and rang it. He stepped back, waiting, his hands locked together as he stared at the door. There was one person he wished to see, one person he had been longing to see all night, and one person who could perhaps shift this unhappy air.
The door opened at once, and Orla ran inside. Her hair was loose and wild about her shoulders, captivating him at once. She stumbled in, her cheeks even rosier than usual, the concern clear to see.
“Is all well?” she asked, rushing toward him. Her hands landed at once on his arm, and she made to steer him to the nearest chair, but he stopped her, placing a hand over hers on his arm. She halted at once, a gasp escaping her lips.
Orla, I pray you do not gasp like that.
