Page 96 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
A slight knock struck the bedchamber door, and it creaked as it opened.
‘Hello.’ Alethea became a dark shadow rushing across the room. ‘May I sleep with you?’ she said, as she moved the covers aside.
Susan did not reply; the question had not really been a question.
‘I feel miserable.’ The mattress rocked when Alethea lay beside her. ‘I told Henry after dinner that I understand.’
Guilt was no longer a little sharp thrust of pain but a spearhead wedged in Susan’s side that twisted about fiercely. ‘Understand what?’ she asked.
‘That he cannot propose to me while he is in mourning, and therefore we will have to wait until next year before our courtship can progress.’
Susan bit her lip to stop herself from speaking.
‘He was so quiet I think he would have liked to speak with me in more depth but we were surrounded by people in the drawing room and so he could not. He is so upset, though.’
‘Yes. I know.’ The image of Henry’s eyes and the emotion they displayed, came to her mind’s eye.
‘I wish I could do something for him,’ Alethea said.
Something. The word struck Susan. She had said that to Henry, then they had done something that comforted him.
Nausea turned over in her stomach. Alethea would be so angry if she knew?
Alethea carried on whispering, talking about Henry and his family, and the others who had attended today.
Susan whispered acknowledgements in return, but her mind was occupied by Henry – wondering what he was doing and thinking now.
24
Henry rolled onto his back, his head pounding. He had drunk himself into oblivion last evening. After everyone left, he came to his room and finished the bottle he had started outside, then sent for another. He had drunk until he could no longer lift a glass.
Samson lay on the covers beside him, something that would annoy his mother if she knew. His hand reached to Samson’s ear and his fingers stroked the dog, as memories whirled in his head.
God, what had he done?He could feel himself pressing into Susan’s body, the warmth of her, the slickness of her welcome. He could still smell the damned roses mingling with the scents of sex.
He shut his eyes as he recalled kissing her mouth, and his fingers invading her.
Bloody hell.Why had she let him do it? Because she loved him in return. There was no doubt of it, she would not have allowed it if she did not.
Damn.He had been mad – and intoxicated – and drawn her into hell with him. And the foolish woman had allowed it whenshe had denied them any future. Well, he had forced her hand now.
You utter bastard,his internal voice accused – his conscience speaking.
He nudged Samson off the bed, then threw back the covers and walked across the room to open the shutters and let in the daylight. The sun was high. It was probably already midday. Samson yawned behind him, then began to whimper in a need to be let out.
What was Susan thinking? She must be cursing him.
He pulled some clean clothes from his chest of drawers, clarity in his mind. The first certainty he had known in weeks.
When he left the house, he encountered none of his family in the halls he walked through, with Samson at his heel. He imagined today his parents would keep to themselves. Percy would look after the boys, and the girls had each other. Today, he had to put Susan first.
He lifted a hand to a footman who stopped to bow. ‘Would you take Samson outside, please, then to the kitchens?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The man took hold of Samson’s collar, well aware he would rather follow Henry.
‘Stay, boy,’ Henry commanded, then walked on to the tune of Samson’s barked complaints.
He left the house through the door leading to the stables.
