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

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СКАЧАТЬ to take Samson too. I thought you had risen.”

      “I have risen, but only as far as my private sitting room so I did not need to strain my damned arm by putting on clothes.” She glanced up when he swore, in response to the un-Henry-like bolshiness in voice, a note that came from pain. “And pray do not look your horror at me for using a bad word. You made the choice to come up here and this is my private room, I will speak as I please.”

      “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

      He sat down in the chair, almost deflating. His good hand holding his bad arm.

      “It must be very painful.” She took two steps farther into the room.

      He looked at her with unamused eyes. “It is, thank you for the recognition? Now you ought to go, before Mama catches you here and then tells your Mama and then you will earn yourself a scold and some penalty…”

      “We are not children anymore, I am—”

      His eyes suddenly looked hard into hers. “No, precisely, Susan. We are not children anymore. You cannot run around doing anything you wish.”

      “Perhaps you should listen to yourself.” Her ire rose and snapped in answer, before she turned away. Because, was that not exactly why he was in this state? He had no right to chastise her for anything she did when he hurtled about the roads racing his curricle with no regard for others. “I will not come back until you send for Alethea,” she said, as she walked back across the room. “So you may run about shirtless all over the house without fear!”

      A sharp bark of laughter caught on the air behind her, she did not look back.

      “You know you are as bad as me! Admit it or not! You cast your judgements, and yet you are just as rebellious, in your way.”

      Rebellious? She turned back. She could not see him. He was in the chair, facing the window, invisible behind it, although she could see Samson, who looked back and forth between her and Henry, his tail swaying. “I am not rebellious.”

      “No? Then why are you here, disturbing me?”

      “I came to offer to take Samson out and also to see how you are. You looked unwell yesterday.”

      “Rebellious with good intent then; but to my room, Susan? Even Alethea would not have come to my room.”

      “I would not have walked into your bedroom. I only came to your sitting room!”

      There was the low sound of an eruption of amusement in his throat that was not quite a laugh, perhaps more like a growl of frustration, or pain. Even as she was angry with him that sense of empathy had its claws in her.

      “Believe me, no other well-bred woman I know would have done this! No matter that it is only my sitting room!”

      She let a soft sound of amusement escape her throat as she turned away again. The sound deliberately defied her sympathy, she wanted to annoy him for his skill in disturbing her. “Good day, Henry! I hope you feel a little better in the morning!”

      “Good day, Susan! Thank you! You may take Samson with you, I am sure he shall appreciate the opportunity of a run in the meadow with the others, and in the meantime, I shall run around downstairs shirtless and terrify all the maids.”

      She laughed involuntarily. Then she lifted a hand to Samson. “Come along, Samson, would you like a walk?” The dog’s tail wagged, in answer, but he looked to Henry for permission.

      Henry had many faults, and yet the dog adored him. “Go you foolish, hound,” Henry dismissed him with an affectionate pitch.

      Susan’s smile broadened.

      “Samson,” she called again. When he came to her side she petted his ear exactly as she knew Henry did, and walked from the room. She closed the door behind her.

      The empathy in her stomach had become a different sort of feeling.

      In the last three days she had probably shared as many words with Henry as she would have normally shared with him in a month during his stays at home, and she’d found him funny, as well as annoying, and frustrating.

      Susan caught her reflection in a mirror on the landing, she was deep pink and Henry would have seen her embarrassment, and yet he had not teased her for that.

      She hurried back downstairs to find Aunt Jane, Christine and Sarah, her heart thumping.

      The sight of Henry’s bruises and the outlines of the muscle beneath his stained skin hovered in her mind. She had never seen a man shirtless before. But she refused to let herself be unsettled. Christine was right, she was a part of their family, it was not odd for her to see Henry half clothed. He was like a brother or a cousin.

      When she walked downstairs, Samson trailing in a disciplined, graceful manner behind her, Christine and Sarah awaited her in the hall.

      “Where have you been?” Christine asked, holding out Susan’s bonnet.

      Susan accepted it. “Collecting Samson from Henry’s rooms, so he might join us.”

      Neither Sarah nor Christine queried her statement, or asked how Samson had been acquired. Yet at the very idea, Susan’s fingers trembled as she tied the bow of her bonnet beneath her chin, and the footman had to take over and secure the buttons on her cloak, because her hands shook too much.

      I am embarrassed. She had seen Henry in nothing but a dressing gown, with half his torso exposed. She had held her wits together in his room but she’d known the moment he stood up she should not have been there.

      “Are you sure you will not stay for dinner? I do not see why you should go home, only because you have come alone,” Sarah said as they turned to leave the house, the dogs padding about them.

      “No, I need to return home. I told Mama I would be back.”

      Sarah offered her arm, and Susan wrapped her arm about it, grateful of the gesture as her legs felt wobbly too.

      ~

      When Susan retired for the night, Alethea came to her room in her nightdress. Her bare feet brushed across the floorboards as she walked towards the bed, dispelling the darkness with a single candle that made her shadow dance behind her.

      Susan lifted the covers. Alethea set down the candle on a bedside chest and laid down next to Susan. Susan threw the covers back over them both as Alethea turned and blew out the candle. The smell of wax and the burnt wick caught in the air, and the mattress moved as Alethea lay back down in the darkness. The pillow dipped and Alethea’s breath touched Susan’s cheek.

      “Did you see Henry?”

      “Yes.” She had seen too much of Henry. “I said goodbye to him. He looked in a lot of pain. I actually felt sorry for him, and you know how rare that is.”

      “He told me he was very badly injured. He said he’d thought in one moment he might die.”

      “He said that to be dramatic, Alethea, you know he did. You know what he is like. He loves being the centre of attention.” Yet Susan had seen the bruising on his body—if he had struck his head as hard? He had not been СКАЧАТЬ