Page 97 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
‘I wish to ride!’ he called to a groom.
‘Yes, sir.’ The man tugged on his forelock, then rushed to ready the stallion that had been given to Henry years ago.
Henry lifted off his hat and tapped it against his leg as he waited. The carriage they had used yesterday was being cleaned and polished by the grooms. He could not look at it, he did not want any memory of yesterday.
His gloved fingers ran over his hair; the action brought a memory to mind, of Susan’s fingers holding his hair.
A couple of grooms returned riding his sisters’ horses they must have taken out for exercise. The stallion was led out from its stall, saddled and ready for Henry to ride. He took the reins, led the horse to the mounting block, climbed the steps there and settled himself in the saddle.
‘Thank you,’ he said, looking down at the groom. Then to the horse he said, ‘Go on,’ and struck his heels against its flanks as he rocked his hips forward, commanding the animal to walk until they were out of the stable yard.
Outside the yard, he lifted up from the saddle and urged the horse into a trot with his rise and fall. On the drive, he pressed his weight into the stirrups and his knees against the horse, and lifted off the saddle to set the animal into a canter along the avenue of tall horse-chestnut trees.
The best way to reach Uncle Casper’s was along the road. He did not gallop, but cantered the horse all of the way, turning off the road and along the drive which passed the fields where the stud horses grazed.
When he reached the house a groom appeared and came to hold the horse as Henry dismounted.
The gravel crunching beneath his boots, he walked to the door as a cuckoo called from somewhere in the trees behind the house.
How apt.
Henry lifted off his hat as he walked the last few paces. His other hand ruffled his hair.
When he reached the door it opened before he could knock.
He looked at the footman, it was not a man he knew, and probably therefore not a servant who knew him. ‘Is Lord Forth at home?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ The man bowed. ‘Please wait here in the hall.’
‘Please tell him I would like to speak with him privately,’ Henry said before the man turned away.
‘Yes, my lord.’
Whenever he called here, Alethea ran downstairs or Aunt Julie rushed into the hall to embrace him, no one came today. But he had never arrived when he was not expected before.
‘Henry!’
He looked up to see Susan leaning over the bannister of the landing above. Then she was hurrying down the stairs. She wore dark blue, a colour which set off the fascinating quality of her eyes. Her beauty gripped tightly about his heart as it had done every time he looked at her yesterday.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, her gaze questioning and a blush colouring her skin.
He would have held her hands but he still had a hold of his hat. ‘I have come to speak to your father.’
‘About what… Oh no. No, Henry.’
‘There is no choice now, Susan.’ He did catch one of her hands then, stopping it from waving about, denying his intent. He held it firmly. ‘You cannot complain nor disagree. I am fixed on this. After yesterday there is no other choice. You think of Alethea, you think of me, you worry over all of us, trying to stop us all from feeling pain, but in that commitment, you forget yourself.’
‘But I cannot, Alethea…’
‘Damn Alethea. She will manage well enough. It is you I care for. There will be consequences, and if there are no physical consequences then there will be sadness regardless. I will not allow it. I had thought I was hurting you less by letting you walk away but that is hurting you too, and me. Let us have each other.Let us be happy. Alethea will find her happiness too in another way. Please…’
‘I do not?—’
‘My lord.’ The footman reappeared.
Henry let go of Susan’s hand and turned.
‘Lord Forth asked me to bring you to the library.’
