Page 4 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
‘But he has the women in London to compare me to and hedescribes London society as such an improvement on our quiet country life.’
‘He cannot dislike the idea of your company; the moment he is home he has sent for you.’
Alethea looked at Susan and bit her lip. It was a very slight gesture but Susan noticed the sign of self-consciousness and uncertainty. It was unlike Alethea.
‘He did not,’ Alethea clarified. ‘Sarah sent the letter. I asked her to.’
That redeemed him a little in Susan’s current ill-judgement, if he had not sent for Alethea to come and play nursemaid. ‘He will love you still,’ she reassured her. ‘Merely look at his expression when he sees you and it will show you.’
His brown eyes, the rich colour of sweet chestnuts at the moment their green pods split open, had always lit up with the warmth of an appreciative smile whenever he looked at Alethea. Even when they’d been young, he’d thrown glinting looks at Alethea before challenging her to a race or the solving of a conundrum or the telling of the best joke.
Of course, Alethea had always been the prettiest and most vibrant one and Henry the handsomest and wildest. They were well matched.
Susan pressed the tip of her finger onto the bridge of her spectacles and slid them a little further up her nose. Alethea had golden hair and eyes the colour of forget-me-nots. She was often called a remarkable beauty in Susan’s hearing. So why would Henry not admire her, no matter how pretty the women were in London?
Susan had never received the same accolade – people did not use the word beautiful to describe her mousey-brown hair and eyes that were steel-grey, not blue.
It was fortunate, really, that she was as unlike her sister incharacter as in looks, because if she had Alethea’s nature she would be jealous. As it was, she was as much in awe of her sister’s beauty as others and she thanked heaven that neither jealousy nor vanity were emotions she was afflicted with. She was quite content to be herself, the less amusing, less charming and less attractive sister. Susan could stand in a room and very easily be invisible by simply not speaking, which meant if she did leave a room, no one noticed her slip away.
‘What should I say to him, when I see him?’
‘Hello, perhaps…?’
‘Do not tease me. Tell me. My stomach is all upside down. I wish it had not been so long. Do you think he will look different?’
Alethea’s questions and her stream of concerns continued as the carriage navigated the rutted road leading to the Barringtons’ estate.
2
Alethea clasped the footman’s hand and descended from the carriage into the courtyard at Farnborough.
When Alethea had let go, Susan held his hand and climbed down.
The air was filled with the sound of the water pouring from the fountain.
The front door opened. Davis, the Barringtons’ elderly butler, stood there, ready to welcome them.
Alethea immediately said, ‘I wish to see Lord Henry.’
‘He is in the family drawing room, Miss Forth, do come in. Shall I introduce you?’
Alethea was already stepping in without awaiting his invitation. Davis was used to her ways, though. ‘There is no need, Davis. Sarah sent for me. They are expecting us, and we know where it is of course.’
As Susan entered the hall, Davis bowed.
They had spent many hours here as girls, because their parents were such close friends. The Barringtons were like an extension of Susan’s family. She thought of Lord and Lady Barrington as an auntand uncle, and called them so, and Christine and Sarah were as good as cousins to her. She did not know the boys as well, though, because they had spent so many years away from home, at school.
Alethea led the way again, full of energy, excitement and concern for Henry.
The door to the smaller family drawing room, in one of the older parts of the house, stood open. Alethea did not knock but walked straight in. Then exclaimed, ‘Henry!’ and rushed on. ‘Sarah sent me word you were home…’ she said as Susan followed her into the room.
The walls were covered in wooden panelling, making the room dark, but it had a sense of being frequently used. The panelling was adorned with portraits and paintings, past and present.
‘Oh dear, you poor thing,’ Alethea declared, pulling out a cushion from behind Henry. He obligingly sat forward and looked up at her with a smile of welcome and humour as she plumped the cushion.
He had one arm in a sling, and his feet up on a footstool where Samson rested his head, and his sisters and his mother were seated about him, their postures expressing concern, while Henry had been lying back against his bed of cushions looking perfectly content.
There was nothing poor about him, he was busy enjoying every moment of the attention. A frown pulled at Susan’s forehead. She had a natural empathy, she could never abide seeing anything or anyone ill or in pain. This was to the upset of her mother, who was concerned about her visiting the sick in case she contracted some dangerous illness, and could not abide her forever rescuing and nursing injured creatures. Yet she learned how to care for animals from her father; as a child she had twicespent the night in the stables with him watching over a foal, encouraging it to take a bottle when it had lost its mother.
