Page 10 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
‘Never mind, Susan. I am too tired and in too much pain to fence words with you.’ He turned away. ‘Enjoy the rest of your afternoon painting.’
‘I shall!’ she called after him, as he walked away. She smiled to herself. She preferred him awake. She felt better when things were normal between them no matter how nice Henry looked when he was asleep, and she refused to be swayed by her sympathy for the rogue, even though she knew he was lucky to be alive –it was his own fault.
She and Alethea dined at Farnborough, and Aunt Jane invited them to stay rather than travel back and forth each day, but Alethea denied the offer because their mother would most likely prefer it if they did not entirely desert her.
Henry remained in dishabille for dinner.
He had a sickly pallor.
Susan watched as Alethea cut up his food so he could eat with one hand. His expression became awkward, and there was no glint in his eyes for her kindness and attention – not even a smile. Perhaps he really did not feel well.
Yet whether he did or not, it was not Susan’s concern.
She began a conversation with Christine who was sitting beside her. Yet Susan’s gaze was repeatedly drawn back to Henry as he spoke to Alethea, and she could not stop noticing the small indent at the base of his throat and the dark hairs visible on his chest as she recalled the bruises hidden under his shirt.
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Susan walked down the stairs, carrying her bonnet and cloak. The bonnet bounced against the skirt of her dress with the pace of her steps as she held it by the ribbons.
Alethea stood in the hall below, already wearing her bonnet, but she was not looking up to chase Susan into hurrying, but looking down at a letter.
‘What is it?’ Susan called.
‘It is from Sarah.’ Alethea looked up and met Susan’s gaze. ‘We cannot go. She says Henry intends to remain in his rooms and so he said it would be a waste of time for me to come.’
‘Why?’
‘He is feeling too ill. He does not wish to dress but merely lie abed and rest his shoulder.’
‘He did look pale yesterday.’
‘I know. I felt so sorry for him. I would sit by his bed and keep him company but I suppose it is not the thing, is it?’
‘And if he has taken laudanum he will probably wish to sleep.’
‘I suppose.’
But Susan had been looking forward to going over to Farnborough to continue her painting and the carriage had already been called.
‘Mama!’ Alethea called across the hall when their mother appeared from the drawing room. ‘We cannot go. Henry is feeling too unwell.’
‘But I would like to go to paint, Mama,’ Susan said. ‘Do you think I might? I was looking forward to painting again today and Uncle Robert said he did not mind my using the library at all for a whole fortnight.’
Her mother smiled. ‘If you wish to go, there will be no harm in it, I am sure.’
Susan looked at Alethea, awaiting an offer to accompany her. There was still Sarah and Christine to visit, and after all Susan had only begun her painting project to accompany Alethea.
Alethea turned away and walked towards the drawing room, with Sarah’s letter held tightly in her hand.
Susan looked at her mother. Her mother was very like Alethea in temperament and she always gravitated towards her most exuberant daughter. She turned to Alethea, lifting a comforting arm to offer reassurance. ‘Alethea. Dear. I am sure he will be well enough to see you again soon.’
Susan loved her mother dearly but they had never understood one another particularly. Susan was more like her father in nature.
She turned to their butler. ‘Dodds, do not send the carriage away, I will be going, but will you call for a maid?’
Dodds bowed slightly. ‘Shall I help you with your cloak, miss?’ He held out a hand.
She put on her bonnet and tied the ribbons, then turned so he could set her cloak across her shoulders. She secured it herself while Dodds opened the door for her.
