Page 87 of Mending the Baron's Sins
It took time, because they may have been adding something to the cup.
“It was Walter,” Horace said suddenly, his voice breathy compared to the firmness that had been there seconds ago. “It was Walter Gladstone.”
Chapter 26
“Adam?” Horace called as he stepped down from the carriage. Adam was already tense on his feet, ready to march away down the road.
“Leave it to me,” Adam urged, glancing back and gripping Horace’s shoulder once. “Five minutes, and I shall be back.”
“Thank you.” Horace halted, watching his cousin hurry away down the road. If everything was going to go according to his plan, then Adam would have to return quickly.
Horace watched his cousin disappear down the end of the road before he dared turn his attention to the house before him. It had to be five years since he had last been to Walter’s house, and he realized that in that time, it had changed much. The house was well tended, and the stonework showed signs of recently being renovated and freshly painted. The grand gate that bordered the estate was topped with stone eagles, designed to no doubt look regal and impressive.
“It is like the house of a lord,” Orla’s voice sounded from behind Horace. “It is not what I expected.”
Horace turned back to face her. She was sitting so far forward on the coach bench to peer out of the open door that she was indanger of falling out of it completely. To Horace’s relief, she did not look so tired now. The last couple of days, he’d continued to improve, and to his great happiness, each night he had spent with Orla at his side. They had both slept peacefully in one another’s arms.
I’m not going back from this life now, Orla. I intend for us to be together, always.
Yet there was one thing he had to do first. He stepped back toward the carriage and reached toward her. He kissed her on the forehead, feeling her hand slide up his chest and grip around the edge of his waistcoat. The brush of those fingers reminded him of all that they had shared, and everything more they could yet share.
“Don’t be long,” she pleaded in a whisper.
“I won’t. I promise,” he vowed and stepped back with a wink. “I have to do it, though.” He turned back to face Walter’s house, placing a hat on his head. “I have to speak to him.”
“You could wait for Adam’s return first,” Orla said, the fear evident in her voice.
“He will come.” Horace nodded. “This is something I need to do by myself first, though. I need to try and understand.”
They shared one last look. She mouthed the words,good luck,and didn’t move back from the open doorway of the carriage, even when he pleaded with her to do so.
She’ll watch the house intently.
Feeling the depths of her care made Horace step away with some difficulty. Soon enough, he would have no cause to leave Orla’s side again, but first, he had to tackle this demon, for he knew it would only slumber for a short while.
He left the carriage and walked up to the house, knocking on the door loudly. When it opened, the butler was so shocked to see him that he stepped back.
“Were you expecting a dead man?” Horace asked, coldness tinging his tone.
“My Lord. How are you?” the butler asked, offering to take his coat and hat. Horace kept both, having no wish to hand them over as he stepped into the house. His eyes darted back and forth as he saw that the outside of the house was not the only thing to benefit from an increase in funds.
Everywhere he looked, it was as if someone had sprinkled the house with money. A marble hall table was propped up on gilt legs. The banister rail for the staircase glittered in gold, and aportrait at the end of the hallway bore Walter’s face more like he was a duke than a businessman.
This is sickening.
“I shall announce you, my lord.”
“Oh! My God!” a familiar woman’s voice cried, cutting the butler off.
Horace turned to see Miss Bonneville running down the stairs. Behind her was her aunt, carrying herself with greater reserve and deportment than her niece could aspire to.
“Lord De Rees, what a pleasure this is!” Miss Bonneville nearly tripped on the hem of her dress in her eagerness to get to him. “Did I not tell you, Aunt? Did I not say he would come and call on us?” She practically whipped the loose curls of her hair around her shoulder as she batted her eyelashes at Horace.
He groaned internally, suddenly longing for Orla’s company once again.
“Yes, you did,” Mrs. Holmes glowered at him, as welcoming as she had been at their last meeting.
“I told dear Walter you would call on me too,” Miss Bonneville said gushingly, trying to reach out to take Horace’s arm, though he expertly moved it out of her grasp.
