Page 15 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
‘Good day, Susan! Thank you. You may take Samson with you, I am sure he will appreciate a run in the meadow with the others, and in the meantime, I shall run around downstairs shirtless and terrify all the maids.’
She laughed involuntarily then lifted a hand to Samson. ‘Come along, boy, would you like a walk?’ The dog’s tail wagged, in answer, but he looked to Henry for permission.
Henry had many faults, and yet the dog adored him. ‘Go, you foolish hound,’ Henry said, affectionately.
Susan’s smile broadened.
‘Samson!’ she called again. When he came to her side she petted his ear exactly as she had watched Henry do, and walked from the room.
The empathy in her stomach had become a different sort of feeling.
In the last three days she had probably shared as many words with Henry as she would have normally shared with him in a month during his stays at home, and she’d found him funny, as well as annoying, and frustrating.
Susan caught her reflection in a mirror on the landing. She was deep pink and Henry must have seen her embarrassment, yet he had not teased her.
She hurried downstairs to find Aunt Jane, Christine and Sarah, her heart thumping.
The sight of Henry’s bruises and the outlines of the muscle beneath his stained skin hovered in her mind. She had never seen a man shirtless before. But she refused to let herself be unsettled. Christine was right, she was a part of their family, it was not odd for her to see Henry half clothed. He was like a brother or a cousin.
As she walked downstairs, Samson trailing in a disciplined, graceful manner behind her, Christine and Sarah awaited her in the hall.
‘Where have you been?’ Christine asked, holding out Susan’s bonnet.
Susan accepted it. ‘Collecting Samson from Henry’s rooms, so he might join us.’
Neither Sarah nor Christine queried her statement. Yet at the very idea of them realising her error, Susan’s fingers trembled as she tied the bow of her bonnet beneath her chin, and the footman had to take over and secure the buttons on her cloak.
She had seen Henry in nothing but a dressing gown, with half his torso exposed. She kept her wits about her in his room but she knew the moment he stood up she should not have gone there.
When Susan retired for the night, Alethea came to her room in her nightdress, dispelling the darkness with a single candle that made her shadow dance behind her.
Alethea set down the candle on the bedside chest and lay down next to Susan. Susan threw the covers over them both as Alethea turned and blew out the candle. The smell of wax and the burnt wick caught in the air. The pillow dipped and Alethea’s breath touched Susan’s cheek.
‘Did you see Henry?’
‘Yes.’ She had seen too much of Henry. ‘He seemed to be in a lot of pain. I actually felt sorry for him, and you know how rare that is.’
‘He told me he was very badly injured. He thought in one moment he might die.’
‘He said that to be dramatic, Alethea, you know he did. He loves being the centre of attention.’ Yet Susan had seen the bruising on his body. If he struck his head as hard, he would be dead. He had not been exaggerating. She had said the words, though, because she did not want to think of Henry any differently than she normally would.
Alethea sighed. ‘I do not think he has any intent to propose marriage when he is here. He still speaks to me as though I am his friend. Do you think he will ever propose?’
‘Of course he will.’
‘He has not been home for nearly a year. He cannot think of me when he is away, and he says nothing about our engagement. Why do you think he is taking so long to propose? I hoped this time…’
‘I suppose he loves his curricle racing too much,’and he is selfish, arrogant and mean – and funny – and in pain.
Instead of Alethea’s usual bright tone, a bitter sigh rang out. ‘I will become an old maid… What if he never asks? Perhaps I should consider others.’
Alethea had never spoken of others before. ‘But you love Henry…’
‘I do. Yet I am nearly three and twenty. I cannot wait forever.’
‘That is not old.’
‘It is almost upon the shelf. I wish to leave home and begin my own family.’
