Page 57 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
Henry was sitting beside their mother, who had a tea tray in front of her. He stood. His eyes were on Alethea as she walked briskly towards him.
‘Alethea,’ her mother reprimanded as Henry took Alethea’s hands when she offered them.
He would have kissed her fingers, but she pointedly turned her cheek to him, and so he kissed that.
If they were in private, if Alethea had offered her lips, would he have kissed them?The thought lanced through Susan with a sharp pain as jealousy unsheathed its dagger.
He had kissedheronly days ago.
The knife turned back upon herself and stabbed at her heart. Guilt.
Alethea pulled her hands free from Henry’s and turned to collect a cup. Henry looked at Susan and blushed.
So he was capable of feeling guilt and embarrassment, and so he should.
Her inclination was to walk over and rain her fists down upon his head. Hate sliced at her suddenly. She hated him for destroying her happiness. She had been content with her life. She had known who she was, and the woman she would become. Then he upset everything. It was his fault she could not cease thinking of him. It was his fault she could not sleep. It was his fault she had betrayed her sister.
Her skin heated with embarrassment and anger as she turned to take a cup of tea from her mother, very deliberately preventing Henry from making any gesture of welcome.
Where had he been?
Oh, she should not care. But she was so muddled. As much as she wished to hit him, she longed to hold and be held by him – for his embrace to take away all of the pain inside her.
Alethea sat on the sofa next to Henry and twisted sideways a little to speak. Her knee touched his. It spoke volumes without needing a single word. She still liked Henry, perhaps even loved him. He may have deserted her without a word, but she still had feelings for him.
Susan sat down on a chair opposite them and looked at Henry as he looked at Alethea, with pain tearing at her heart with sharp fingernails. She wished to set down her cup and leave now – to stop herself from either screaming at him or clasping hold of him.
His head turned and he smiled at her, but the smile lacked his usual confidence, and he blushed again.
Susan did not give him any sign she welcomed his shallow attention.
He faced Alethea once more, his Adam’s apple moving down as he swallowed. His finger raised to loosen his neckcloth.
Susan’s mother led the conversation from then on, as they drank their tea, avoiding the potentially dangerous topic of,where were you, Henry?While Susan stared at her cup to equally avoid looking at him.
When the teapot was empty, Susan’s mother stood. ‘I will leave you young people to talk. I have duties to attend to. Susan, will you remain with Alethea and Henry, please.’
As their chaperone?That was cruel beyond belief. This was amodern-day torture chamber. How much more was she expected to tolerate?
She wanted to run… Rebelliously or not.
Embarrassment heated Henry’s skin. Susan had not spoken yet, not one word, and apart from when she had first come into the room, she had barely looked at him – and he could barely bring himself to look at her.
Shame. He had suffered many emotions in Brighton, but this was the first moment shame had spun into the mixture.
This was insanity. To sit with one sister, when he had kissed the other just days before. He had forced his eyes to remain on Alethea and her mother as they talked, while all he wished to do was look into Susan’s eyes and see what she thought of him. He wanted to see that awe-struck look he had seen after he kissed her on the night of Sarah’s ball. Then she had looked up at him expecting him to speak – to say all the things they knew they ought not to voice. But he had not dared.
Today, he wanted to shout the words. His heart felt tied to her, not her sister.
The moment she had walked into the room, his stomach had become as wobbly as aspic and his heartbeat had doubled its pace, while the emotions flooding his chest had swelled with the force of a tidal bore.
When Aunt Julie walked out of the room, his conversation ran dry, the words draining from his mind. He looked from Alethea to Susan, who sat still and silent, staring at her cup.
She must be longing to scream at him – or to simply rebel and leave him in this room to suffer the fate he had created.
He had never lacked confidence before, but now he had noidea how to act or what to say. This was a knot caring had tied about him. Carelessness was such an easier choice – but this was not about choice. He had no choice in this. The emotion within him had grown of its own accord.
Susan’s skin reddened. She set her empty cup down on a low table beside her chair, then folded her hands together in her lap. All without looking up at him or Alethea.
