The Reckless Love of an Heir: An epic historical romance perfect for fans of period drama Victoria. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ road followed a wall which surrounded Uncle Robert’s estate. The wall stretched for miles, but they were not following it all. It broke at the main gateway and the carriage turned to pass between the open iron gates and the giant lion statues guarding the entrance.

      The carriage slowed when the gatekeeper came out of his lodge, but he looked at her father’s emblem on the side and waved them on.

      The drive to the house from the gate seemed nearly as long as the journey had been from her home. But it was pretty this time of year, with the huge horse chestnut trees covered in white flowers.

      Excitement gathered inside her when she neared the house.

      Her new project was stimulating, she had never been very good at idleness, and embroidery and sewing were really not her calling. As the carriage passed beneath the arch into the courtyard, she smiled at herself when her reflection appeared in the glass for a moment. Perhaps she was like Alethea in some ways; she had just admitted she was no good at being idle. Perhaps in her, her mother’s and Alethea’s enthusiasm and constant hurrying and need for activity, was exposed in a desire for an active mind.

      Uncle Robert walked out of the house surrounded by three of the dogs. Not Samson.

      He stopped and stood still as the carriage turned and drew to a halt then he came forward and opened the door. “I thought Henry had sent word to say do not come.” He looked beyond Susan, clearly seeking Alethea, but then he held out his hand to Susan to aid her descent as the dogs barked their greeting. Once he’d let go of Susan, Uncle Robert silenced them with a lifted hand. They continued to wave their tails.

      “He did, but I was ready and I wished to come over and paint anyway. You do not mind?”

      “Of course I do not mind, Susan, you know you are welcome. Come I shall escort you in before I go about my business.”

      The large dogs walked beside them, tails swishing at the air. If Samson had been among them he would have surreptitiously, out of sight of Uncle Robert’s discipline, nudged Susan’s hip for some particular attention. Perhaps that was another bad habit that Henry had encouraged, and another reason why Samson was so attached to the heir of the family.

      She did not see Aunt Jane, Sarah or Christine when they walked through the house. He opened the library door. “There.” He stepped back and let her pass. “You’ll not be disturbed, Sarah and Christine have returned to their lessons now that the excitement over Henry’s return has settled down, and Jane is with Henry, I believe.”

      Susan looked at him as she undid the ribbons of her bonnet. “Is he suffering very badly?”

      “I believe so, but it is what he deserves, and it may yet teach him the lesson he has kept refusing to learn from me. But today I think he is simply feeling sorry for himself. He has refused to dress because it is too painful, he has said he merely wishes to remain in his room so he might rest without the need for a sling. I am sure he will be up and about again in a couple of days and Alethea may call to fuss over him once more.” Uncle Robert’s pitch seemed to laugh at the idea.

      Susan did laugh—at his jocular manner—not at the fact that Alethea would fuss or that Henry was in pain.

      As Uncle Robert’s eldest son, and his heir, Henry had been spoilt horridly.

      Uncle Robert had often admitted it too and mocked himself for the error of it, although perhaps never in Henry’s hearing. It was usually when he was speaking with her father. Perhaps she was not meant to have heard…

      “Shall I have a maid bring you some tea?”

      “Yes, please. Thank you.”

      “I will have Davis tell Jane you are here, and that you are not to be disturbed.”

      She was not always sure with Uncle Robert when he was speaking seriously and when he was making fun. His tone of voice always held a lilt which had a measure of amusement and unless he chose to reveal the humour in his words, sometimes it skipped past her. His manner of mocking life, and himself, made him extremely likeable, though. She supposed it was where Henry had inherited his charm from.

      “Good day, Susan.” He bowed his head in parting then turned away. “Come!” he called at the dogs, rallying them. “Susan shall not want you disturbing her, you may go down to the kitchens.”

      “Good day, Uncle Robert!” She called as he shut the door.

      She took off her bonnet and cloak and set them down on a chair. The maid could take them when she brought the tea.

      Her parchment, the box of water paints, her brushes and the book she’d been using were left where she’d used them on the desk yesterday. She opened the giant book and sought a new orchid to copy. Ophrys apifera. It had a petal which looked as though a bee was sitting on the flower. It would be hard to capture correctly and yet she wished to challenge herself, and at least on this there were only three small flowers, others had dozens of flowers on a stem.

      Her hand lifted and her fingers pushed her spectacles a little farther up her nose. She bit her top lip as she chose a charcoal to sketch the picture with first.

      The room seemed darker today, there was not as much light on the desk. She looked up and realised the shutters were still closed over the windows before the sofa.

      When she opened them, her mind’s eye saw Henry lying on the sofa, asleep, a patchwork of ghastly colours.

      A slight knock tapped the door. “Come!” The maid who had brought the tea entered. “Set it there please. Thank you.”

      The maid bobbed a curtsy and left with Susan’s cloak and bonnet.

      Susan poured herself a cup of tea and carried it over to the desk, then concentrated on copying the shape of the orchid correctly.

      When the clock in the room chimed once, there was a gentle knock on the door.

      Susan jumped. She’d been entirely absorbed in her painting. Her tea cup was still full and the tea within it chilled.

      The door opened. “Susan.” Aunt Jane stood with the door handle in her hand. “You must come and eat luncheon with us. You cannot hide yourself away in here all day and starve.”

      Susan straightened up and smiled. “Thank you. I will be there in a moment.”

      “Very well.” Aunt Jane turned away. Susan dipped her brush in the water to clean it, then dabbed it on the rag to dry it. She looked down at her painting, it was slow work today because there were so many tiny details on the bee petals, but she thought she was progressing well, she seemed to be improving.

      The family at the table were Aunt Jane, Sarah and Christine.

      Uncle Robert was still out undertaking whatever business he was about.

      “Is Henry not coming down, Mama,” Christine asked as Susan sat down.

      “He is not. He is not dressed.”

      “But we are only family, it would hardly matter if he did not have his shirt on.”

      Aunt Jane looked apologetically at Susan.

      “Susan is like family,” Christine declared, disregarding the subtle СКАЧАТЬ