Page 6 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
The soup had been the only simple course. For everything else he’d needed to use a bloody knife and fork, and trying to cut something then spear it was not proving successful.
‘Here, let me.’ Alethea pulled his plate over to cut up his food for the third time. ‘I do not mind…’
He damn well minded! It was uncomfortable. He did not like the need to be reliant on her in such a way. He hated the need tobe reliant on anyone. Yet he bore it gallantly – even though the pain in his shoulder and the rest of his body cast him into a very ill mood.
Alethea’s lips pouted delicately as she focused on the task.
Some of her blonde hair had become loose from the knot secured on top of her head. It fell in tiny curls onto the nape of her neck. The back of a woman’s neck was one of the places on the female body he had always thought the most appealing – he liked the delicate curve. She had grown into a very pretty woman.
Although he knew prettier women in town.
Alethea looked up and slid his plate back towards him. ‘There.’ She sounded as though she spoke to a child, but she said it with a smile. There was no ill-meaning. She was simply being kind.
When Henry’s gaze lifted as Alethea focused on her own food, he caught his father’s eye. There was a look of expectation. He’d seen Henry admiring Alethea. Henry was perfectly happy to oblige their parents and fulfil their wish – but for God’s sake, not yet.
He pierced a piece of the mutton with his fork, then looked across the table, to avoid catching his father’s eye again. Susan was speaking with Sarah. He doubted Susan had looked across the table once. Certainly she would not seek to engage him in conversation.
She made him smile, and laugh, in private. She was so different to her sister. Her fingers pushed her spectacles a little further up her nose. His smile rose; it was just one of her quirky habits.
‘Where did you go to this afternoon, Susan? You disappeared.’
Her grey eyes turned to him. They were a little magnified by the prescription of her spectacles, but not overly so, and herspectacles did not make her look awkward, merely intelligent and perhaps distinguished?—
‘I walked out of the drawing room. I did not vanish. Withdrawing to the library is hardly disappearing.’
It was a harsh whip from her quick wit and sharp tongue. Henry laughed. He equally laughed at the thought of her being distinguished. She’d never been that – rebellious, yes, angry often, and independent always. But distinguished? Never. ‘The library, then. What did you find there? Did you enjoy it?’ Of course he was teasing her, it had been one of his favourite pastimes as a boy, mocking her sharp retorts. She was clever, but he was clever too and he enjoyed their verbal sparring. He had always liked her oddness, it amused him, yet she had always disliked him and perhaps it was his own fault for teasing her.
She was forever stopping to pick a tiny flower in a field or point out a butterfly or beetle. Alethea, though, was impatient in nature, and so they had often left her sister and her odd observations behind.
Her lips twisted in the same annoyed expression she’d always given him. ‘I enjoyed it very much, thank you.’ She looked at his father, baring the nape of her neck. None of her brown hair had escaped its knot.
The delicate curve displayed a vulnerable, fragile, side of Susan.
‘Uncle Robert, would you mind if I copied the paintings in your book of orchids? I want to learn how to paint as well as the illustrator and if I copied the images, it might help me understand how to build that level of detail.’
Henry shook his head as his fork lifted another mouthful. He was truly home. Nothing had changed here. His mother and father were the same, Alethea was the same, and Susan was the same – as bookish, dogged and independent as ever.
‘Of course. Take it home with you if you wish.’
‘Thank you. But may I paint here? Alethea will want to visit Henry and I will need to accompany her, so it will be easier to paint here.’
‘I am in accordance with whatever suits you, Susan. I shall be out of the house visiting the farms this week and next, for the majority of the time, so you may have the freedom of the library.’
‘Thank you.’
Henry hid a smile – Susan’s words resounded with heartfelt pleasure.Over painting bloody orchids.
His father looked at him. ‘Rob is looking for a new ram. We are going to a market. You might wish to join us?’
‘My shoulder is not really up to it.’ And he had no interest in competing with his cousin. Rob rented a property from his father, and all Henry heard every time he came home was Rob this or Rob that. His cousin was the son his father had always wanted and every comment was made to incite Henry into an interest and a desire to replicate his cousin. It was one competition he was not eager to participate in, land management. One day, when he inherited the land, it would come with the package of such responsibilities, but until then he was happy to avoid it. His father did not need his help.
Sarah asked Susan something about the book she had asked to borrow. Susan responded with animation, the pitch of her voice lifting and a light of excitement catching in her eyes.
She was an odd woman.
The voice in his head laughed. He had met a hundred women like Alethea in town, but not a single one like Susan. Perhaps because that type of woman did not go to balls or mix with men like him. Clearly Susan would not mix with him by choice; she had withdrawn to the library rather than join in the conversationin the drawing room earlier, even though she had not seen him for almost a year.
She was rebellious – not distinguished. The impression her spectacles gave was a lie. He doubted anyone else would call her rebellious, though, that was the side of her nature she saved solely for him.
