Page 23 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
‘And you judge me as poorly as always, Susan.’
‘Because you have always been arrogant and only interested in the things that benefit you. You were spoilt as a child, UncleRobert freely admits it, and you have grown up idle and irresponsible.’
Oh, Lord.Idle and irresponsible.
He laughed internally. ‘And there was I thinking we had shaken hands upon a truce.’ He could not defend himself, her accusations were true. He drew an income from his father’s estate and lived in town amusing himself with his friends, and women.
It was doubly amusing, though, that considering all the years he had known Susan, he did not really know her at all. That also served to prove her point – he was self-centred. He smiled more broadly. ‘You are probably right, I was and am. But regardless, that does not make it right for me to rush into marriage with Alethea, no matter my motives or lack of them.’
She huffed out a sigh. ‘And you are probably right.’ It sounded as though she was cross she was forced to agree with him. Her gaze passed over his shoulder as though she had had enough of the conversation.
‘What is the level of Alethea’s attachment to me?’
Her eyes turned back to stare into his. ‘You should ask Alethea.’
‘I know, but I believe it might set the vipers upon me. At the current time, it is better to ask you.’
‘What is the level of your attachment?’ she asked.
Touché again. ‘I think I ought to only tell Alethea that.’
‘Well, there you are then.’
‘Dinner is ready, my lord!’ Davis announced to the room in general.
Because Susan stood beside Henry, he offered his arm to her. As she had done the other day, when he’d only worn his shirt, she did not merely lay her fingers on his arm, which was the done thing, but held it with a gentle grip that did things to his body he ought not to feel stir.
He sat between Aunt Julie and Alethea at the table. The latter turned her head away from him throughout the meal, avoiding conversation, and also left a footman to cut up his food.
Instead of speaking to him, Alethea talked animatedly to Susan and Sarah, the conversation flowing across the table. They spoke of the assembly Susan had mentioned earlier. It was to be held in a couple of weeks’ time. He would probably be well enough to return to town before the assembly took place, and yet it was to be Sarah’s first, apparently, so he really ought to stay and show his support and dance with her, as her eldest brother.
Self-centred…The accusation pricked.
He would stay.
After the meal, his mother rose and led the women from the room. It left him in the company of his father and Uncle Casper. When the doors closed Henry’s muscles stiffened instinctively. It jarred his damned shoulder. But he sensed a need to defend himself.
Davis poured each of them a glass of port while Henry awaited the onslaught.
It did not come. Neither man mentioned Alethea, or their hopes that he would propose to her. Instead they asked about his life in town.
Once they had finished their port, they joined the women in the formal drawing room.
As he entered, Susan caught Henry’s eye first. She was not sitting with the others but was on the far side of the room searching through the music in the chest there, presumably because she intended to play the pianoforte.
She was being different from the others again. But she very rarely sat and joined in conversation.
As she leaned over, searching through the sheets of music her bottom was beautifully outlined within the thin muslin materialof her dress and layered petticoats. He’d never thought about her figure before. Susan was the sort of woman whose personality absorbed one’s attention too much for any thought beyond it… but now he looked… and thought… She had a very handsome figure.
He looked away. Alethea was sitting with Christine. As the youngest, she was not yet out, so she would be excluded from the assembly dance. But she was gathering information about it as though that information were precious jewels to be held up to the candlelight and admired with reverence.
The thought made him smile. It was charming to see Sarah and Christine growing up. There, see, he was not entirely self-centred.
He sat beside Aunt Julie, as Susan took a seat at the pianoforte and raised the lid.
She played the instrument extremely well. He could not remember hearing her play before. But he had probably been too focused on his own endeavours to listen – proving her right about his character. She also sang beautifully. Her voice had an enchanting, individual lilt. As she played, her eyes closed. He watched her as she let the music transport her out of the room. She was rebelling again, in her own quiet way, no longer hiding in a corner, or the library, but immersing herself in the music and withdrawing there.
Alethea rose and crossed the room. ‘Sarah, would you pour me a cup of tea?’
