Page 65 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“My Lord, you must give me a moment alone with Miss Byrne.”
“You know I cannot accept that. She is in my employment. You would have to have a chaperone for one thing, and for another, she has no wish to speak to you.”
“We were to marry. It is a lover’s tiff only,” Mr. Baker said hurriedly.
“It looked like more than a tiff to me.” Horace’s voice had deepened.
“If you will allow me to speak to her, I could beg her to reconsider our marriage again.” Mr. Baker was quite desperate.
“Marriage? Reconsider?” Horace managed a barking laugh. “In case you didn’t see it, Mr. Baker, your former betrothed just sent you out of her company with a flea in your ear. Something tells me that she will not reconsider a match.”
An awful image entered Horace’s mind. He saw Orla in bed again, only this time, she was not with him. She was with Mr. Baker.
I feel suddenly nauseous.
“Leave my house and do not come back here to speak to Orla again.” Horace spoke with finality.
Mr. Baker took a step back. Clearly, the strength and insistence in Horace’s voice had startled him.
Mr. Baker said nothing more. He just turned and walked all the way toward his horse.
Horace did not move. He waited, his arms folded, wanting to be certain that Mr. Baker would leave. Once Mr. Baker was in the saddle, he turned back to face Horace. His lips parted, clearly intent on saying something, then he thought the better of it. His lips closed, and he turned the horse around, flicking the reins and shooting off down the icy drive.
Horace waited exactly where he was, needing to be absolutely certain that Mr. Baker had truly left his grounds. Once he was sure, he ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply.
She cannot marry him.
He was not sure he could stomach the idea of Orla marrying any other man but him. He blinked, stunned at the realization. He began to wonder if it was possible that if he did leave Ingleby Hall, could he escape with Orla? Could they escape together and start again?
Slowly, he turned on the spot, allowing his gaze to dart between the windows, looking for her. He knew Orla so well by now; he knew that she would not run and hide from anything. There she was, as he had expected her to be. She stood at a window, looking out and watching them together.
He took a step toward the house. The nearer he moved, the more he saw the fury in her eyes. She was incandescent with rage, breathing heavily, her eyes flashing angrily.
Ah, Orla. How do I take this pain away for you?
Chapter 19
Orla shook as she stared through the window. Frederick was long gone, at last, but the rage and embarrassment remained. Not only had Frederick destroyed her chance in life to go to London, to start a new life, he was now invading on this one and trying to capture her again.
He treats me like a parakeet he can capture and put in a cage. Well, I will not be caught!
She and Horace looked at each other through the window. He nudged his head in one direction ever so slightly, and she nodded. She knew what he wanted. He wanted to see her, and by God, she wanted to see him too.
She left the window and darted through the corridor as quickly as she could. When she passed a maid in the corridor, she hid in the nearest doorway, trying to make it seem as if she was actually not making her way toward Horace’s chamber. The moment the maid was gone, she returned to her intended path, hurrying to his chamber as quickly as she possibly could.
She entered and hid inside, backing up and pacing around the room, her hands dithering.
The door opened a few minutes later and Horace stepped in, closing the door behind him.
“Orla. Are you all right?”
“All right? How can I be all right?”
“I know. Foolish question. Come here.” He hastened toward her, and she met him in the middle of the room. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” He embraced her warmly, and she curled herself into his chest.
It was warm here, safe with his arms up around her. She had no wish to be anywhere else but here. Her hands curled around the lapels of his coat, and he buried his face in her hair. Slowly, he rocked them from side to side, the movement so comforting that her anger began to abate. It softened into a pure misery instead.
If we could only always be like this.
