Page 44 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
Downstairs, two footmen waited in the hall, with their shawls. Susan shivered as the man draped hers across her shoulders, but not because she was cold.
‘Susan.’ Her father offered his arm.
When they sat in the carriage, travelling the short distance toUncle Robert’s town house, she shut her eyes, as if by doing so she could hide from all that might come.
How would she choose a husband? How might she find someone who would like the things she liked? Someone whom she might talk to. Someone who would make her feel comfortable.
The thought of marriage terrified her more than seeing Henry. Her heartbeat quickened the closer she came to his home.
When their carriage reached Bloomsbury Square it stopped at the end of a queue of carriages, and the patter of rainfall joined the rhythm of her heart. The shower became heavier, hammering upon the carriage roof as the other carriages deposited their guests at the door and theirs crept along.
Nausea turned Susan’s stomach over. She pulled her shawl a little tighter about her, then her fingers played with its fringe while they awaited their turn.
As they reached the house, her heartbeat leapt into a rhythm of panic she could hear pounding in her ears.
She could not do this, she wished to turn about and run – to scream take me home.
The rain continued its drum beat on the carriage roof as a footman opened the door and her father climbed out.
Her mother and Alethea alighted, and as her mother and Alethea ran up the steps and into the house, their shawls held over their heads to protect their hair, she took her father’s hand and stepped down onto the pavement. Her father quickly led her up the steps to the open front door.
When she walked into the hall, she was greeted with the sight of Henry holding Alethea’s hand and pressing it against his lips.
‘Susan!’ Sarah called across the hall and waved her forward.
It was a bizarre scene. Guests milled about everywhere, strippingoff damp hats, coats and shawls, which the footmen took away by the armful.
Susan’s father lifted off her damp shawl and handed it to a footman, before Susan walked across to Sarah, avoiding Henry and Alethea. The notion of a receiving line had obviously been thwarted by the sudden rain as many women disappeared to the withdrawing room for help to redress their hair.
Sarah clasped Susan’s hands excitedly. The rain had perhaps made this more of an adventure. ‘I am so glad you are here. You look beautiful, I have not seen you without your spectacles before, and your hair…’
Susan made a tutting sound. ‘Pah! You cannot make a fuss over me. Look at you, you look magnificent. Congratulations, you must be so excited. Are you all prepared?’
‘The rain has turned everything into a shambles, but Papa said he shall tell the orchestra to begin the dancing soon, and things will settle down when the guests have all arrived.’
‘Well, you must enjoy your evening and we will not allow the rain to dampen anyone’s spirits.’
Sarah smiled.
Susan bobbed a quick, shallow curtsy towards Aunt Jane and then moved on into the ballroom, having successfully avoided a single word with Henry.
She swallowed against a dry throat as she walked across the room alone. There were only a small number of people, and they were gathered in groups about the edges of the room. Even through her clouded vision she managed to recognise Uncle Edward, Aunt Ellen, Helen and Jennifer, and joined them. ‘Good evening.’
‘Hello, Susan, dear,’ Aunt Ellen started. ‘I take it you are not alone?’ It was said with jest.
‘Mama and Papa, and Alethea, are in the hall drying off and greeting others.’
Aunt Ellen smiled. ‘We were here for dinner, and so we were fortunate enough not to earn ourselves a soaking.’
‘Here we are, lemonade for you, Jennifer, and Helen…’ Susan turned. The Duchess of Pembroke held out glasses towards her sisters-in-law.
Susan smiled. ‘Hello, Katherine.’
‘Hello.’
‘Mama, your champagne.’ John, the Duke of Pembroke, held out a glass to his mother.
Susan smiled at him too. ‘Hello, Your Grace.’ She curtsied.
