The Reckless Love of an Heir

by Jane Lark

  Uncle Casper focused on him. “But why now, Henry? Surely now is not the time. It would be better for us to tell Alethea and then for you to give her a few months to become used to the idea of you courting her sister before you take the step of becoming engaged, and surely it is better to wait until the end of your mourning.”

  Henry swallowed. He’d known he would be asked to wait. He’d thought of nothing else during his ride over here, and there were no words with which to explain the urgency without telling Susan’s father the truth. So he spoke the truth. “We have anticipated the vows, sir. I am sorry. Susan has no choice but to marry me, and we need to be married now.”

  “You…” Uncle Casper straightened up, his mouth dropping open and his skin colouring up with anger. “Well now that explains much,” he barked in an impatient, angry tone. “For instance why Susan has asked me to look for a position for her, and why she ran away from London. Yes, Henry, you had better marry her.” He walked past Henry. Henry looked over his shoulder.

  Uncle Casper walked to the door. He spoke as he pulled it open. “Would you send for… Ah I see you do not need to. Come in here, Susan.”

  ~

  Guilt and shame swept up into Susan’s blood in a rush as her father glared at her, holding the library door wider as he beckoned her in. She’d been leaning up against the door, pressing her ear to the wood but she had not been able to hear their conversation. But Henry had clearly done what he’d said and told her father.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered as she walked past him.

  “I should hope you are,” he snapped back. After he shut the door he added, “I am disappointed in you,” then he looked at Henry. “I am disappointed in you both.”

  He lifted his hand. “Susan.” Her name was a sharp order, telling her to walk across the room to join Henry.

  She was going to be scolded for stealing Henry from Alethea.

  “You have shamed yourselves and I hope you know it.” When her father was unhappy he was like an army officer; his pitch heightened, sharpened and became barked words. His hands gripped behind his back as his eyes looked his annoyance.

  He was truly upset. His cheeks were red-veined by temper.

  He looked at Henry. “You will have to marry within the month otherwise if there are consequences then it might become obvious.”

  “I know, sir. I will not have Susan suffer that.”

  Her father knew everything! Susan coughed on her embarrassment, and her fingers lifted to push her spectacles farther up the bridge of her nose as heat flushed her skin. Why had Henry told him that?

  She looked at him with as much accusation as her father.

  “We will marry as soon as I can arrange it.”

  “You will require my consent!” Susan complained as the conversation seemed to ignore her.

  Henry looked at her his eyebrows lifting.

  “From what Henry has said,” her father charged, “you have already given your consent.” Her father turned his back on her, and walked about his desk. “You had better see the Archbishop and obtain a special licence, Henry. I will not have my family embarrassed.” He sat down then and looked at the papers on his desk. “Now get out, both of you, I am trying to hold on to my rage over your foolish, thoughtless behaviour and I am likely not to succeed.”

  Susan bit down on her lip as she turned away. Tears pressed at the back of her eyes. Henry’s arm came about her and his hand settled at her waist.

  “And you must think of the kindest way to tell Alethea!” Her father called.

  Susan looked back, heat flushing her skin. Her father had looked up and his gaze speared her with the accusation of her disloyalty.

  Henry did not look back, or stop walking, or remove his hand from her waist. He did lean across, though, to pick up his hat from a side table.

  He removed his hand from her waist when they reached the door. He needed his hand to be able to open it, unless she opened it, but she had rather that he moved his hand.

  “Susan.” He pulled the door wider and then stepped back giving her a stiff smile.

  “Why did you tell him?” she accused in a quiet voice after they had walked past the footman.

  “Because there is only one reason why I would not wait until after we have finished mourning. It is the day after William’s funeral there’s no other explanation.”

  “But to tell my father.”

  “He would have known anyway…” His voice was low and husky. He turned then and held out his hat towards the footman who still stood to one side of the room trying not to listen to their whispering. “Please put that somewhere out of the way.” The man came across the room and took it. Then Henry turned and grasped Susan’s elbow. “Now where may we go to talk?”

  “Not the drawing room, Alethea is there.”

  “Where then, the garden?”

  She nodded.

  He walked her, by the pressure of his grip on her elbow, into the dining room and out through the French doors, and shut the door behind them. As soon as the door was shut he began speaking, while a cuckoo called repeatedly in the distance. “We must—”

  “Why did you tell my father?” Her fingers curled into fists.

  “Why would you think I would not?”

  “Because, I… Alethea…”

  “Damn it, Susan, I told you that I love you, and I know you love me, please stop fighting happiness. You give everything of yourself to everyone else, but do you not think that if Alethea truly loved you she would want to see you happy too?”

  “But she loves you, Henry, and she is my sister.”

  His hands came to each side of her head, his palms pressing against her cheeks. “She does not love me. And I know she is your sister, but that does not mean you must lose everything for her.” He looked into her eyes through her spectacles. “You father said you had asked him to look for a position for you, why?”

  Her gaze and her head lowered and she stared at his chest, not able to face this, or him. “I needed to get away so I did not have to face you marrying anyone else.”

  His thumb slipped beneath her chin and lifted her head back up. “I would not have married. I have found who I wish to marry, she’s standing before me, and if she will not have me, I will have no one. Do you hear me?”

  “I feel guilty, because I have taken you—”

  “You have not taken me, I am yours, and if there is guilt to be faced we share it equally.”

  “Henry…” Her heart stretched out as his eyes looked at her, focusing through the cloak of grief.

  “No. Susan.” His hands fell, and instead he stood before her, his hands at his sides. “You must not take me out of pity, or sympathy, you must not accept me for my sake as you did last evening. Accept me because this is what you wish for, for no other reason. Be self-centered.”

  She swallowed. Her throat was dry. She longed to. Her whole body was engaged with his, humming with feelings of desire, love and… “Yes.”

  She looked up at the sky rather than at him, as the cuckoo began calling again. “Yes.” She smiled, when she should not be smiling.

  His arms wrapped about her and he lifted her up and twirled her about once, then his hands were either side of her head again and his lips pressed on hers.

  When he pulled away, he said, “We have to act now, Susan. Shall I go into the drawing room and then you might come in with an excuse to take your mother away so that I may speak with Alethea. It is my responsibility to tell her.”

  Nausea twisted through Susan’s stomach, she could quite easily cast up her luncheon. “She will be angry with me.”

  “Then return to the drawing room after awhile and let her take her anger out in front of me so I may protect you from it. I shall steer it in my direction.”

  “She will never forgive me.”

  “She will forgive you, if she loves you, and I think she loves you far more than any feelings she has for me.”

  Susan swallowed against the fear in her throat.


  “Come along let us get this over with.” His hands fell and then he gripped one of hers and turned to lead her back indoors. He let her hand go as they walked into the drawing room.

  “Henry!” Alethea set aside her sewing and stood up. “I did not know you were coming.”

  “It was a moment’s decision,” he said as he walked away from Susan, crossing the room.

  “Henry,” Susan’s mother stood and embraced him, as she always had. “My dearest boy.” Then she stood back, her hands sliding down his arms and then gripping his hands. “How are you all faring today? I should imagine it feels very strange.”

  He nodded and glanced at Alethea.

  Susan’s mother let his hands go. “Of course, you do not want me fussing over you, I shall not. Sit with Alethea and I will order tea.”

  He did as he was bid and sat by Alethea.

  Susan’s hands shook as she turned to her mother. “Mama, I need new curtains in my room I think, would you come and look?”

  Her mother frowned. Susan clasped her hand and pulled a little.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now. Please?”

  She looked at Alethea and Henry, then Susan. Her eyes widened and she smiled, making entirely the wrong assumption; she thought that Susan had planned this with Alethea.

  Susan did not correct her even when they walked into the hall and her mother said, “There is nothing wrong with your curtains.”

  “I know, but please leave Alethea and Henry alone for a moment?”

  Her mother sighed then smiled and shook her head. “Very well, I shall walk down to the kitchen and order that tea and choose some cakes to accompany it, but Henry and Alethea shall only have as long as that.”

  Susan nodded.

  She looked back at the drawing room door that had been left ajar as her mother walked away. She heard Alethea talking nonsense, about shopping in York. If Susan stayed here she would hear everything. She could not stay and eavesdrop, it would be cruel, Henry had been Alethea’s since birth, the conversation would be embarrassing for Alethea.

  But now he is mine. It was a selfish voice that whispered through her.

  Susan turned away and followed her mother, if she was in the kitchen she could not even be tempted to come back so she might listen.

  When Susan returned, it was with her mother. Her heart had been racing in a ridiculous pace that had made her lightheaded as they’d walked through the hall.

  No sound came from the drawing room when they neared it. The only noise was from the china rocking on the tea tray which the maid carried behind them.

  Susan swallowed back her anxiety, and her fingers pressed on the bridge of her spectacles, then fell.

  Her mother pushed the open door wider. “Alethea… Henry…”

  When they walked in Alethea was standing, Henry was still sitting down. He rose and turned to face them. Susan could see from his face the conversation had not gone well.

  “You are…” Alethea began to declare… then her words ran dry.

  But Alethea’s eyes, as she stared at Susan, listed all the words she had not spoken—a traitor, a liar, betrayer, cruel, heartless, sour, thief…

  I am sorry.

  “I cannot believe you did not tell me! You said nothing!”

  Susan’s skin flushed with warmth and probably flooded with colour. “I did not know how to.”

  “Know what?” Her mother asked as she gestured for the maid to set down the tray and leave them.

  “She has been making-up to Henry, Mama, and now Henry wishes to marry her!”

  “Alethea.” Henry’s voice was a reprimand.

  He crossed the room to join Susan and his arm settled about her waist as her mother looked at her. Her eyebrows lifted. “Susan?”

  “We are engaged to be married.” Henry told her. “I have spoken with Uncle Casper.”

  Her mother frowned. “But you are in mourning… Oh… Oh good Lord. Susan.” She came towards her and gripped Susan’s hands. “Why you left London…” Then she looked at Alethea. “Oh my dear…” She left Susan and walked over to Alethea. “Oh my dear.” She embraced Alethea.

  Alethea glared at Susan and Henry across their mother’s shoulder.

  “Do not worry,” Henry said quietly.

  She was not worried—she was embarrassed…

  I hate you! Alethea’s eyes screamed.

  Henry’s arm lifted and his hand settled on Susan’s shoulder, drawing her gaze to him and then turning her so she faced him. “We should speak to my father and mother too.”

  His hand slipped from her shoulder, and instead he took her hand. “Come along, we will leave.”

  She let him lead her out of the room, there was no point in her staying, she would not appease Alethea when she was in this mood, and yet—this was everything she’d feared. She could not simply walk away from her family.

  “I foolishly did not think to bring the carriage. What would you have us do? We might both travel in your father’s carriage, or I can wait while you change into your habit and we’ll ride home together?”

  Home. He’d said home, because it was his home, but when they were married it would be hers too. The thought scared her. She did not want to leave her family.

  “We will travel together by carriage,” he decided for her and looked at the footman. “Please have the carriage made ready.”

  The footman disappeared.

  “Would you like to go upstairs and fetch your bonnet and a shawl?”

  She nodded, her gaze saying, thank you, although her mind and her lips no longer seemed to be able to form words.

  “Go.” He nodded at her.

  She turned away and ran up the stairs.

  Her heart pumped hard, thumping in her chest as she sought out a bonnet which would match her dress. There was a straw one, with grey ribbons. At least she had dressed in something dark that would be appropriate to his mourning, she would not feel as though she was insulting his parents.

  She pulled out her paisley shawl, she did not have a dark shawl, though.

  When she reached the landing she looked down. Henry was no longer in the hall.

  She ran back downstairs. “Where is Lord Henry, James?”

  “He is waiting outside, miss.” The footman walked across to open the door for her.

  She walked quickly past him, her eyes focusing on the carriage that awaited her.

  “Susan.” He’d been standing slightly to one side of the portico outside the front door. He stepped forward. “Ready?”

  No. She nodded regardless.

  “Come along then.” He held her hand and walked towards the carriage, then hung on to her hand as she climbed up.

  He climbed in behind her.

  “Where is your horse?”

  The door shut behind him.

  “Tied to the back.”

  When the carriage rolled into motion she sat back, as Henry did beside her. He stripped off his gloves and then reached across to take her hand from her lap.

  She wore gloves. Thin lace gloves. She could still feel the heat from his hand.

  He squeezed her fingers.

  She looked at him. “I am terrified. I cannot breathe. Do you think Alethea will ever speak to me again?”

  “Yes. She will, once she has had chance to calm down.”

  “Was she terribly annoyed with us?”

  “Beyond terribly. But we knew that would be the case and we made our choice for other reasons.”

  She nodded. They had made their choice out of selfish want.

  “My father will be upset too. I am sorry. He is not in the best state to hear this news.”

  “No. I am sorry.”

  “You are sorry that I pressured you into making a choice when you were not ready. Forgive me, but I do not see what you are sorry for…”

  His brown eyes still had the lost look of yesterday, he was fighting with grief and she had added to his burdens yesterday instead of freeing him. She turned and wrapped her arms about
his neck, offering the comfort she’d longed to since the day he’d held her hand in a gesture of such need. “I am sorry, for making you face this now.”

  His arms came about her, holding her securely and he rested his cheek against her bonnet. “I am not sorry.”

  She hung on to him as the carriage rolled on, and when they broke apart his arm clung about her shoulders and pulled her close. She leant against his shoulder. “I feel so awful. Treacherous.”

  “For falling in love… Are we to change that to make our fathers and Alethea happy, and ourselves miserable. I knew nothing of love before this summer, but now I know that love cannot be ordered or told.”

  Her head rested against his shoulder again, her straw bonnet denting a little.

  He was hers.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Henry held Susan’s hand securely. His plan was written in his head, he would speak with his father and mother then leave Susan here so she need not face Alethea’s anger and disappointment, while he went to York to the Archbishop’s office and obtained a licence.

  They walked across the cobbled central courtyard while the flow of the fountain echoed about the walls joined by the sound of their footsteps. Henry looked up at the windows of the wings of the house that wrapped around them, he could not see anyone looking.

  Davis opened the door before they reached it.

  They’d climbed out of the carriage on the gravel outside the front, rather than bring the carriage into the courtyard, because his horse had been strapped to the back, yet still Davis had learned of their arrival within the few minutes it had taken them to walk the distance across the courtyard.

  Davis bowed. “Master Henry, Miss Susan.” He did not look at their joined hands but looked Henry directly in the eyes.

  Henry smiled. “Where is Papa?”

  “In the family drawing room, my Lord.”

  It was unusual for his father to be in the drawing room at this time of day, he was usually working on business, and yet… he’d not considered anything about the estate since William had died.