Page 68 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
Susan thanked God for the darkness, otherwise she could not have hidden her pain.
‘I have forgiven him. I could not remain irritated, and of course he waltzes divinely, so how can I stay angry with him?’
Tears filled Susan’s eyes. One slipped onto her cheek then the pillow.
‘When he danced with you, did he say anything about me?’ Alethea asked.
‘No, we were speaking of silly things.’Of things found only in foolish dreams. ‘You know how he likes to tease.’
‘Yes.’
Susan’s heart cramped, becoming taut and painful at the sound of contentment in Alethea’s agreement, as though Henry’s fist tightened about her heart.
I cannot love him. He belongs to Alethea.
17
Susan leaned aside slightly to allow a footman to pour her third cup of coffee. Afterwards, he took away her barely touched breakfast plate.
Alethea had left the table and gone upstairs, to prepare herself to ride in Hyde Park with the Earl of Stourton, no matter that she hoped Henry would call. Susan remained at the table because she needed to talk to her parents.
‘Darling, you have hardly eaten, are you still feeling unwell?’ her mother asked.
Susan had endured half an hour of Alethea stating her hopes Henry would call today, and that he would resume his attentions.
If he did come Susan could not be within the house. She would be called downstairs and she could not claim a headache every day.
Her stomach coiled with nausea, fear and guilt. She could not eat.
‘Are you unwell, Susan? You’re very pale,’ her father stated.
‘Did you not sleep?’ her mother progressed.
Susan did not like to lie, but she had to. She looked at hermother. ‘I do not feel well. The air here disagrees with me.’ That was the only excuse she had been able to think of as Alethea had slept. ‘I wish to go home.’ She looked at her father. He would be the one to arrange it if she was allowed to leave. ‘Papa…’
‘Where has this come from? You seemed merry enough, until last night.’
‘I have been trying to enjoy myself for Alethea’s sake, but I shall only ruin things for her if I stay. I have a headache daily, and… I hate it here.’ She looked at her mother; she would be the one to persuade her father. ‘I feel sick constantly, Mama. Please may I go home?’
‘We are only to be here four more weeks. Can you not bear it for that long?’
‘It will look odd,’ her father added.
They sounded annoyed.
If they did not agree she would run away, she would not remain in this house if Henry called. ‘No one will notice I am not here.’ Six months ago that would have been true. It was not true now. Henry would notice. But he could not care. What had grown between them had to die. ‘I want to leave today. My trunks may follow.’ She looked at her mother, her voice shifting from a plea to desperation. ‘I want to be at home, Mama. London has made me unwell.’
Her mother stood and came about the table, wrapping her arms about Susan, holding her firmly. ‘What has happened?’
Susan’s arms wrapped about her mother’s waist as her mother pressed Susan’s head against her midriff, and her fingers stroked over Susan’s hair.I love Henry, Mama, I love him, and I cannot even speak of it.
‘Susan.’ Her father stood and came about the table too. His hand rested on her shoulder.
She could no longer hold back her tears.
‘What has happened?’ her mother asked again, more quietly.
Her father pulled out the chair beside Susan and sat leaning towards her. His fingers turned her chin so she would look at him. Her arms fell from her mother, but she caught hold of Susan’s hands.
