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

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      The rogue looked up at the ceiling and laughed for an instant before looking back at her. The amusement had brightened his eyes. “Think as meanly as you wish, Susan, it will not do me any greater harm than I have done myself. I dare say, on this occasion, I may have finally learned the lesson you wished me taught.” He turned away once more.

      “Where are we eating?” She called before he left the room.

      “In the formal dining room, Papa is home.”

      When they ate, she had intended to sit beside Sarah, but Alethea drew Susan’s attention, and so she could not then walk around the table to sit with Christine and Sarah. She ended up taking a seat on the opposite side of Henry to her sister.

      Alethea spoke to Aunt Jane as Henry silently fought to eat his food one handed.

      Susan swallowed, she wished to make conversation, to stop herself from suffering with the awkwardness that hung over her. “How are your bruises today, are they improving?” she said lamely.

      “Turning from almost black to a lighter purple, but perhaps I have a new one since you struck me.”

      She looked at him. “Sorry.”

      He smiled. “If we are on the grounds of apologies, then I owe you one too. I am sorry I did not tell you to go away the other day. I should have done. I did not mean my teasing to discompose you earlier, but I can see it has done because every time you look at me you turn a greater shade of pink.”

      Oh, she wished to smack him again.

      “You are forgiven for striking me, if I am forgiven,” he concluded.

      “You are forgiven only if you agree never to mention that I went to your room again.”

      A half laugh rumbled from his chest.

      Alethea turned and said something to him. But before he turned to reply, he said to Susan, “Are we friends again then?”

      “Henry! Alethea asked for your opinion.” his father interrupted before Susan could answer. There must have been some greater conversation about the table they had lost track of. Henry turned away.

      Once they had finished eating, Susan rose to return to the library. Every one else stood at the same time. She would have walked on ahead but Henry touched her arm.

      “Wait a moment. I have not yet secured your agreement on our pact.”

      He had not forgotten his desire for a truce, then.

      Alethea walked on with Aunt Jane, and his father walked with Christine and Sarah.

      “May we call ourselves friends? I do not think we have really been friends for years. I would like to think of you as my friend, Susan.”

      She hated the way he said her name, his enunciation made her stomach twist about with a strange sensation.

      He held out his left, good, hand, which was gloveless. She accepted the gesture.

      She wore no glove either. The warmth and the softness of his skin surprised her as his hand surrounded hers. Yet he had not held her hand in the way he held Alethea’s hand, he held Susan’s in a firm gesture, his whole hand gripping her whole hand, not merely pressing her fingers.

      The queasy feeling in her stomach tumbled over. She had never held a man’s naked hand, except for her father’s.

      He shook her hand a single time, firmly, and then let her go. “May I escort you to the library? I wouldn’t mind another look at your painting, we might even persuade Alethea to stop by…” His good arm had lifted as he spoke. He was offering it to her…

      She looked at his forearm, before glancing up and then laying her fingers on his arm self-consciously.

      Her fingers closed about the sinuous muscle of his arm through his thin shirt. The cotton was so fine she could feel the hairs on his skin.

      The strange sensation in her tummy coiled up like an adder waiting to strike.

      “So how many flowers have you attempted so far?”

      Susan swallowed before answering. Her throat had dried. “I am only on my second.”

      “And how many are in the book? I seem to recall about fifty. You will be here for a year.”

      She smiled at him. “Or two.”

      This was Henry at his most persuasive, he could turn this side of himself on and off so easily. She had always found his charm annoying before, but then it had never been solely directed at her.

      Now it was directed at her…

      It felt complimentary, and he was surely doing it to make her feel at ease with him again, which was kind. Although it must be embarrassing for him if she was blushing at every moment.

      His charm was working, though, she did feel more at ease.

      For the second time in her life, she felt wholly in charity with him.

      Perhaps he would not make such a bad brother-in-law.

       Chapter Six

      An odd atmosphere arrived in the carriage with the Forths, Henry could sense it even as he looked down into the hall. Uncle Casper’s shoulders were stiff and Aunt Julie’s manner was much more restrained than normal; she far too calmly kissed his mother’s cheek.

      Henry walked down the last flight of stairs to the hall as Alethea entered.

      She was wearing a light bright blue again so that the material of her evening dress extenuated the colour of her eyes. Susan entered behind her sister, wrapped up in a large paisley shawl, but he could see the hem of her dress. It was a pale, dove grey.

      He’d dressed fully for dinner, as the Forths were officially invited guests rather than arriving simply as callers, and so he had his grey waistcoat and black evening coat on over his shirt. His arm was still strung up in a sling, though. Yet it had been less painful to dress, and it was not agony to be clothed now the swelling had declined to some extent.

      What remained of the pain, as long he did not make any sudden movements, was a dull constant ache in his shoulder, a soreness in his wrist and stiffness in both. The rest of him was healing quite nicely.

      Papa’s valet, who had been shaving Henry since he’d come home, was now urging Henry to exercise his bad arm, but Henry had refused to attempt it for another week at least; he did not wish to send it into agony again.

      “Uncle Casper.” Henry bowed in a swift informal movement. Even though there was no relationship via bloodlines he’d always felt as though Lord and Lady Froth were his uncle and aunt—and Alethea like another of his cousins—and truly that was the level of his affection for her.

      He swallowed trying to moisten his dry mouth suddenly, as Uncle Casper’s lips lifted in a stiff smile. Definitely СКАЧАТЬ