Page 85 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
‘Do you miss him?’ Percy said.
‘Yes, I miss William.’ Henry would not allow William’s name to become a dead word.
‘You never really spoke to him, you never spoke much to any of us, but more to me because we were at school together. You virtually ignored William.’
Henry took a large swig of his brandy. The void William had left inside him burned with guilt. ‘That is why I cannot sleep. I wish I had. I miss him even though I barely knew him. I miss the man he would have become. The man I would have known well, had William had the chance to grow.’
‘He—’
‘Say William’s name, Percy, for God’s sake. Do not let him be unmentionable.He– was our brother. William.’
Percy coughed and swallowed back a rough sound of emotion in his throat, then sipped some brandy before continuing. ‘Williamwas the one who made me laugh the most; he teased and played tricks. He was the ringleader of trouble even though he was the youngest.’ Percy smiled, looking into the liquid in his glass, then up at Henry. ‘He was the most like you.’
The words slashed at Henry, cutting into his new fragility. His heart had turned from hardened rough flesh to weak, soft tissue in the last few weeks. He drained his glass again to wash away the bitter taste in his throat. ‘I wish I had known him better. I would have talked sense into him and persuaded him not to be like me. I was a reckless idiot.’ Henry stood and walked back over to the tray of decanters, to hide the emotion he warred with.
Percy laughed, although it had a heavy sound. ‘You are no idiot and you would not have said a word to William about beingsensible. Youarereckless, you would never have been William’s voice of reason.’
The statement was true. No, he had been the Devil on his brother’s shoulder, whispering without even being near him –do bad things.Susan had been more right than even she had known, and now he had to carry a burden far worse than the trauma his death would have wrought on his family. He had to live, knowing he had caused his brother’s death and watching his family suffer his loss.
‘I am going back to my room to try and sleep,’ Henry said.
‘I shall come upstairs too.’ Percy drained his glass then stood, picked up the decanter and returned it to its tray.
An urge to embrace Percy ran through Henry. He had promised himself he would show his affections now. He did not obey the urge, though, Percy would think it odd. Yet, he would seek more conversations like this and build a closeness with his brothers. It was the only option he had to compensate for William’s loss.
Now, though, he needed to be alone to manage the pain swelling inside him and threatening to tear him in half.
And Susan…
He was trying not to think of Susan.
But an image of her face as she had held his hand, before Sarah had drawn her attention, hovered in his mind.
His spirit wanted to renege on their agreement. But that would hurt her, and he could not do that.
Henry managed to sleep for a couple of hours, thanks to the brandy, but when that wore off he lay awake looking into the dark, at William’s lifeless body.
He got up as soon as the sun rose, dressed quickly and walked down to the stables. The grooms were busy cleaning out the stalls and so he saddled the stallion he wanted to ride himself. He held the pommel, pulled himself up to the height of the saddle with strength alone, and swung his leg over the horse.
It was a reckless thing to do. He knew it immediately. The horse could have rejected his movement and made him fall. He should have walked the animal to the mounting block.
But he was just as reckless when he had the stallion out in the meadows; he kicked his heels hard and set the beast off into a gallop, jumping hedges and walls. The horse’s hooves thundered over the grass, kicking aside the low early morning mist and crushing the heads of the clover. He raced onto the paths through the woods, bending low to the saddle to avoid the branches. He was simply riding, with no aim or direction. But the pace and the physical exertion offered no solace to his battered soul.
As the sun rose higher, he rode onto the land his exemplary cousin Rob rented. It would not take him long to reach Rob’s house. He did not slow the stallion to a canter until he reached the gravel drive, and then only slowed the animal to a trot for the last few yards.
A groom came about from the side of the house to meet him.
The man held the horse’s head steady as Henry dismounted. He had never called here alone before. He had never been particularly close to Rob. Rob had not joined the cousins’ friendship group, although he was of an age with Henry. Even at school and university they only spoke in passing. But he had not come to speak to Rob, he had come in the hope his uncle had arrived. Knowing the timings of the journey, it was most likely Uncle Edward would have arrived last evening.
Henry thanked the groom but he did not ask him if Lord Marlow had arrived. He would knock on the door now he washere. If his uncle was not here, he would spend a few moments with Rob.
He sighed as he walked towards the front door. It opened before he reached it. A footman stood there. ‘My lord.’ He bowed.
‘Is my uncle, Lord Marlow, here?’
‘He is, my lord.’
‘Please ask if I might speak with him?’ He hoped for someone to share his burden with. Though his uncle could never take the guilt away he might take on a portion of the responsibility.
