The Reckless Love of an Heir: An epic historical romance perfect for fans of period drama Victoria. Jane Lark
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      “But he has the women in London to compare me to and he describes London society as such an improvement on our quiet, country life.”

      “Yet the moment he is home he has sent for you. He cannot dislike the idea of your company.”

      Alethea looked at Susan and bit her lip for a moment. It was a very slight gesture but Susan noticed the sign of self-consciousness and uncertainty. It was unlike Alethea.

      “He did not.” Alethea clarified. “Sarah sent the letter. I asked her to.”

      Oh. That redeemed him a little in Susan’s current ill-judgement, if he had not sent for Alethea to come and play nursemaid. “He will love you still,” she reassured. “Merely look at his expression when he sees you and it will show you.”

      His brown eyes, the rich colour of sweet chestnuts at the moment their green pods split open, had always lit up with the warmth of an appreciative smile whenever he looked at Alethea. Even when they’d been young he’d thrown glinting looks at Alethea and challenged her to a race or the solving of a conundrum or the telling of the best joke.

      But then Alethea had always been the pretty and the vibrant one and Henry the handsomest and wildest. They were well matched.

      Susan pressed the tip of her finger on to the bridge of her spectacles and slid them a little farther up her nose. Alethea had golden hair and eyes the colour of forget-me-not petals. She was often called a remarkable beauty in Susan’s hearing. So why would Henry not admire her no matter how pretty the women were in London.

      Susan had mousey-brown hair and eyes that were steel-grey not blue. She had never received the same accolade—people did not use the word beautiful to describe her.

      It was fortunate, really, that she was not like her sister in character as much as they were unlike in looks, because if she had Alethea’s nature she would be jealous. As it was she was as much in awe of her sister’s beauty as others and she thanked heaven that neither jealousy nor vanity were emotions she was afflicted with. She was quite content to be herself, the less amusing, less charming and less attractive sister. Susan could stand in a room and very easily disappear by simply not speaking, which meant that if she did disappear and leave a room, no one noticed her slip away.

      “What should I say to him, when I see him?”

      “Hello, perhaps…”

      “Do not tease me. Tell me. My stomach is all upside down. I wish it had not been so long. Do you think he will look different?”

      Alethea’s questions and her stream of concerns continued as the carriage gently rocked and creaked, navigating the rutted road leading to the Barrington’s estate.

       Chapter Two

      Alethea clasped the footman’s hand and descended from the carriage into the courtyard at Farnborough.

      When Alethea had let go Susan held his hand and climbed down.

      The air was full of the sound of the splashing water pouring from the fountain.

      The front door opened. Davis the Barrington’s elderly butler stood there, ready to welcome them.

      Alethea immediately said, “I wish to see Lord Henry.”

      “He is in the family drawing room, Miss Forth, do come in. Shall I introduce you?”

      Alethea was already stepping in as he spoke, she had not awaited his invitation. Davis was used to her ways, though. “There’s no need, Davis. Sarah sent for me. They are expecting us, and we know where it is of course.”

      Susan stepped into the hall. Davis bowed to her.

      They’d spent many hours here as girls, because their parents were such close friends. The Barringtons were like an extension of Susan’s family, she thought of Lord and Lady Barrington as an aunt and uncle, and called them so, and Christine and Sarah were as good as cousins to her. She had known the boys less, though, because they’d spent so many years away from home, at school.

      Alethea led the way again, full of energy, excitement and concern for Henry.

      The door to the smaller family drawing room, in one of the older parts of the house, stood open. Alethea did not knock but walked straight in. Then exclaimed, “Henry!” and rushed on.

      “Sarah sent me word you were home…” Alethea said as Susan followed her into the Barringtons’ homely drawing room.

      The walls and ceiling were covered in wooden panelling, making the room dark, but it had a sense of being frequently used. The walls were full of past and present tales.

      “Oh dear you poor thing,” Alethea declared, pulling out a cushion from behind Henry. He sat forward to allow it and looked up at her with a smile of welcome and humour.

      He had one arm in a sling, and his feet up on a footstool where Samson rested his head, and his sisters and his mother were seated about him, all sitting forward on their chairs their postures expressing concern, while Henry had been laying back against his bed of cushions looking perfectly content.

      There was nothing poor about him, he was busy enjoying every moment of the attention his injury had brought him. A frown pulled at Susan’s forehead. She had a natural empathy for wounded things and people, she could never abide to see anything in pain. She was forever rescuing and nursing injured creatures, to the upset of her mother, who was even concerned about her visiting the sick in case she came into contact with some dangerous illness. Yet her father understood. Twice she had spent the night in the stables with him watching over a foal, encouraging it to take a bottle when it had lost its mother.

      Henry’s pretence annoyed her. He did not deserve pity for his foolishness.

      When Alethea set the cushion back down, to Henry’s credit, he lifted his feet off the stool and stood to welcome her properly. Samson stirred and rose too. “Alethea.” He nodded his head in greeting, but he did not attempt a bow with his injured shoulder so wrapped up. He did however clasp Alethea’s hand with his free hand and lift it to kiss the back of her fingers. “It is my extreme pleasure to see you again and perhaps the good in the bad of my accident.”

      Alethea gave him her flirtatious smile—the smile that made her look her prettiest. A smile Susan had watched practiced before a mirror to achieve its perfection.

      Henry’s smile lifted in return, becoming something more personal and his eyes filled with the twinkle they only sparkled with when he looked at Alethea. Alethea had had no need to worry. Henry might wander away but something would always bring him back, and when he came back his eyes said he remembered why he liked Alethea.

      For as long as Susan could recall whenever the two of them had come together within half an hour they were whispering conspiratorially and laughing at something shared between them and no one else.

      Henry passed his smile on to Susan. His eyes lost their glimmer and his smile twisted slightly giving it an edge of sarcasm. None of his looks were practiced. Henry did not deploy guile or artifice. He was naturally full of rakish charm. Only for Alethea that charm shone, for Susan СКАЧАТЬ