Page 11 of The Reckless Love of an Heir (The Marlow Family Secrets #4)

An odd atmosphere accompanied the Forths when they arrived. 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 brought out 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 had dressed fully for dinner, as the Forths were officially invited guests rather than arriving simply as callers, and so he wore his grey waistcoat and black evening coat over his shirt.

His arm was still strung up in a sling. 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 as 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 came home, was urging Henry to exercise his bad arm. 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 had always felt as though Lord and Lady Forth 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.

Henry glanced at Alethea as his father came to welcome Uncle Casper more heartily.

He liked her considerably. She was amusing company, funny and entertaining, and she was polite and genteel; she would make the perfect Countess when he inherited his father’s title.

She was good with people, confident and jolly.

He knew full well she would manage a house admirably. She had all the qualities of a wife.

But he was not ready to marry. He was too young. Yet he could feel the nets being set about him.

Four times this week she had hinted at the fact she was not going to wait forever for him to ask, and Uncle Casper’s gaze stated that nor did he wish Alethea to be kept waiting. Clearly, they were becoming impatient with him.

Let them. He would not be forced. His father may call such an attitude careless. Henry would call it wise.

‘Good evening, Henry. I trust you are feeling better?’

Henry turned to face Aunt Julie. ‘I am, thank you.’

She gave him a somewhat anxious look, before tentatively touching his shoulders and lifting to her toes to better reach to kiss his cheek.

Normally, in the past, her arms would have wrapped around his neck and her exclamation would have been, ‘ My darling boy! ’ before she pressed a kiss on his cheek.

She had no sons of her own, so Aunt Julie had treated him like a son since his birth.

But perhaps her calmness was out of awareness for his injuries.

‘It is good to see you again,’ he said, before kissing her cheek in return.

A very abnormal half-hearted smile stirred her lips.

He realised they had hoped he would announce his and Alethea’s engagement tonight. That was it. They had received the invitation to dine and misconstrued its meaning.

Damn it . Alethea must have been waiting for him to ask all week and now told them he had not.

‘You are looking very well despite your accident.’

‘Thank you, Aunt.’

She was definitely restrained – unhappy with him.

He looked at Alethea. She smiled, but even her smile was not quite so full.

He would lay a bet that there had been a conversation about him in the carriage, one that criticised his lack of a proposal. But he would not be pushed into it. He would propose when he was ready to be settled, not before.

Yet he was not immune to a sense of guilt.

He turned to face Alethea, as she came to him, holding out her hands. He took hold of them, then kissed the back of them in turn, before leaning forward and kissing her cheek. ‘Hello, you look very beautiful,’ he whispered towards her ear before he straightened.

She blushed and smiled more naturally. ‘Hello. ’

He smiled too, looking into her very blue eyes, then let her hands slip from his and turned to greet Susan.

He did not normally greet her in any way. They were too close for formalities, and they had no reason to greet each other with any special welcome. But tonight… He had welcomed her parents having not seen them for months and it would seem odd not to say a particular good evening to Susan too.

‘Susan.’

She blushed, not deeply, but there were very definite roses blooming in her cheeks. She had been blushing every time she saw him since their long conversation in the library, or rather since her visit to his room.

She did not offer her hand. He took it from where it hovered by her waist anyway, and kissed the back of her fingers. Her hand trembled and her grey eyes looked directly into his for a moment before she looked at his fingers holding hers.

She was a funny, irregular woman.

He released her and turned his attention back to Alethea, offering his arm.

‘We shall have a glass of wine before we go through to dinner, Casper, Julie.’ His father led them towards the drawing room.

Henry wondered if his father understood the situation as well. If so then Henry would be in for a lecture after they left.

‘You are fully dressed…’ Alethea whispered.

‘I could hardly dine with your parents in my shirt.’

‘They would not have minded.’

‘I would have felt a fool, and I think I might have made them feel foolish too.’

Sarah had taken charge of Susan and was walking with her. Christine walked beside Aunt Julie, with Henry’s mother, while his father spoke with Uncle Casper.

‘Were they expecting me to announce our engagement tonight?’ He’d learned as young as his boarding school years that it was always better to be direct when dealing with an awkward situation, otherwise awkward situations festered.

She blushed a deep crimson, much darker than the colour Susan had been turning. Yes , then.

‘Yes. I am sorry?—’

‘You have no need to be sorry. But I must make it clear, I am not going to propose to you while I am home. I am not ready to settle, Alethea, it is too soon, and I will not apologise for it.’ He had slowed their pace, so the others were ahead, then he stopped and faced her.

‘I am sorry if that distresses you. I know you will make a good wife but I cannot commit until I will make a good husband and that will be when I am older.’

She looked into his eyes – searching for answers – perhaps to understand his feelings. What were hers? Did she think more of him than he thought of her? That thought was a little petrifying.

‘I am getting older too, Henry,’ she said quietly. ‘It is different for a woman. If I wait much longer I shall become too old to be considered. What if you change your mind then? Then I will not have another chance.’

They had always been aware of this obligation and neither of them had expressed any disagreement. This was their first conversation about their feelings on the matter.

‘When will you ask me? I will not wait for years. I wish to be married and settled.’

There, his speaking openly had led her to do so too. This was the sentiment she had been hinting at ever since he returned – she would not continue to wait.

‘I cannot say, or rather I will not, I suppose, because I do not know; someday in the future. You will have to choose whether or not you wait.’

Uncertainty shone in the black centres of her eyes. ‘I am not sure I can wait.’ Her hand slipped off his arm and she walked ahead.

Touché . He laughed internally and followed.

When Henry entered the formal drawing room his father was already offering Alethea a glass of wine. The footman poured it and asked Susan if she would like a glass.

Across the room a footman was lifting Susan’s shawl from her shoulders.

The dove grey colour of her dress suited her hair and eyes, and oddly her light grey eyes seemed more striking than Alethea’s blue as she looked up and accepted the offer, as Alethea accepted her glass.

Henry walked forward as the footman poured another glass.

When Henry took the glass, his father’s gaze caught Henry’s and his eyebrows lifted.

His father had indeed deciphered the atmosphere and he would be of the same opinion as Alethea. Why are you waiting?

Wonderful. It was Henry who had suggested this dinner, and now he would not be able to bloody digest it.

He should have made his opinion on the subject clearer when he wrote to Alethea from London and managed her expectations.

Yet it was nonsense for them to grasp at an invitation to dinner with such silly hope.

In undertaking one rare act of thoughtfulness, which his father had been remarkably pleased by, he had knocked open a hornets’ nest.

Lord, though, he hoped his father had not thought the same.

Had that been why he was so happy with the idea?

Damn. This was not meant to be an enactment of the prodigal son parable.

He had not intended the fatted calf to be slaughtered and a toast raised to the fact he had returned home and would remain there forever.

The intent had only been to see his aunt and uncle before he returned to London .

He sipped from his glass. Alethea had turned her back on him and walked across the room to speak with Sarah.

Wonderful!

Yet to be fair, if she fell out with him and married someone else, he would not weep over it. His heart was not involved; it would not be broken. It would make no difference to him, other than that when the time came for him to take a wife he would have to look for one.