Page 67 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
When people fell in love was it not supposed to be something that was happy, not tragic?
Henry held his head, his fingers clawing in his hair. He looked up at the sky which had turned the deeper blue of twilight.
What was he to do?
He sucked in a breath.
Damn. He did not want Alethea. If he took a wife it would be Susan. But she had thrown the idea of marriage back at him. Her loyalty to her sister was commendable, especially when he hadnow realised that at times that loyalty was not returned. Yet he did not wish Susan to be righteous in this, he needed the rebellious Susan.
He drew in another breath. He would persuade her. Convince her. He would tell Alethea there was no feeling on his part, and she was better off pursuing Stourton. Then he would court Susan. He was not so loyal, or moral or obliging that he would give Susan up and accept misery only so that others might not think badly of him.
Self-centred.
Damn it, he was, and he was glad to be, and he would not walk away from what he wanted. He would be self-centred for them both.
His arms fell to his sides, and he walked back to the house.
When he entered the ballroom, he saw Uncle Casper protectively holding Susan’s arm, leading her from the room. Aunt Julie watched them leave the room with an expression of concern.
The current dance drew to its conclusion and the space about him became full of heavily breathing perspiring dancers.
He was lost among them. Which way to turn? What to do? He could hardly follow Susan, and yet his heart had left the room with her.
‘Henry, where have you been? I was going to save the second dance for you but you were not here.’
He faced Alethea. Her skin glowed with warmth and her eyes shone bright. Her expression said,dance with me, even if her lips were not so forward as to ask a man rather than waiting to be asked.
He lifted his arm and complied, as he had always done. ‘May I have this dance then?’
He could not continue to carelessly comply. Because now he cared, and he cared for someone else.
The music began, announcing another waltz. Of all the dances. He was in no mood to dance it with anyone but Susan.
Alethea smiled broadly as her hand lifted to his shoulder. She was being her most enchanting. Perhaps she had realised her flirting with Stourton was not having the desired effect.
He took her hand and slid his other to her back, aware of every difference between the sisters.
The music swelled and he began to turn. Alethea’s bright blonde hair reflected the candlelight and her very blue eyes looked at him with the smile that sought to allure him.
He longed to look into pale grey eyes that expressed a depth of truer emotion.
Yet he and Alethea had been friends for years, it was not difficult to dance with her and make conversation, and here was not the place to tell her the truth. So he danced, and breathed, and his heart continued beating no matter that it felt as though it might shatter. What he talked of, though, was Susan. He sought stories of her.
He wished he had made an effort to know her well when they were young. He had been so self-absorbed he had never noticed the things that were the same about himself and Susan. They might have been friends. But his past ignorance made it unsurprising that she had grown up disliking him, and it was no wonder she had no faith in him now.
Susan lay in bed hugging a damp pillow. She had cried more than she had ever cried. But she had never had a good reason to cry before.
A slight tap struck the bedchamber door. ‘Susan…’ Alethea whispered when she entered the room.
Susan let go of her pillow and swiped the cuff of her nightdress beneath her eyes as the candle Alethea carried spread light into the room.
‘Do you feel better?’ Alethea asked as she walked around Susan’s bed.
No. She felt worse now Alethea was here. Guilt dropped like a heavy stone into her stomach. She had not been crying out of guilt or for her sister’s loss, she had been crying for her own loss. She wanted to be with Henry. ‘A little.’
Alethea set the candle down, climbed in beside Susan then turned back and blew the candle out. The room descended into darkness.
‘I waltzed with Henry after you left.’
