Page 18 of The Reckless Love of an Heir (The Marlow Family Secrets #4)

Harry had been at Henry’s father’s house, with his parents, when Henry called there before visiting the Forths.

When Henry said where he was going next, Harry had invited himself along, declaring he had not seen Lord Forth’s girls for an age.

Of course that was not surprising because they had not come to London, but remained in Yorkshire as Alethea had been relying on a promise from him .

Henry flicked the straps again and lifted the horses’ pace into a canter along a clear stretch of the street.

He could not get an image of Susan out of his head – the moment she came downstairs and he had caught her gaze.

Her eyes were striking when she wore a darker blue than Alethea.

The sight had struck him in the middle of his chest, not just in his gut and his groin. Damn. It was a strange feeling.

The image of her holding Harry’s hand as they talked cut into his thoughts.

When he neared a crossroads, he glanced at his cousin, as he returned the horses to a trot. ‘Do you like Susan? ’

‘Of course. They are pleasant girls.’

‘No, I mean, do you like Susan? Is there an attraction there?’

Harry’s arm slipped free from the back of the seat and he sat forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he stared at Henry.

‘If you are asking me, am I considering matrimony as you are, then the answer is a firm bloody, no. Of course not. What would I want with a wife? I am more than happy as I am. I would much rather be me, than you. I was merely being friendly towards Susan because I like her, nothing more. Why? You are not her brother-in-law yet.’

Henry looked at the road as they turned into a busier street. ‘It was only that you seemed overly attentive.’

‘I was flirting. Women love a chance to flirt. It is harmless and fun. I flirt with every woman. You know that of me…’

Yes, he did. But watching Harry flirt with Susan had been annoying. He had never been annoyed by Harry’s flirting before.

‘Will you be at Madam’s tonight? I have not seen you there since I came to town…’

Henry glanced over. Harry and several of his cousins consorted with the same women, at the same brothels.

They had done so for years. Henry could not even remember which of them had introduced him to that set, but he had been involved in it since he attended university in Oxford.

‘I have not been going. I am no longer interested.’ There, the statement was made.

It was the first time he had spoken it aloud and declared his budding responsibility to his friends.

‘Why?’ Harry asked, abruptness and doubt catching in his voice.

Henry glanced across at him. ‘Is it not obvious? Alethea is in town. I am courting her. I cannot consort with whores at the same time.’

‘Ha!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘Most men would. ’

Well, then, obviously Henry was not as bad as his father thought. He was not most men. He smiled. ‘Well, I will not. I have discovered a conscience.’

Harry laughed louder, and heartily.

Henry did not.

His period in Yorkshire had educated him.

If he was serious about marrying Alethea he could not continue to be reckless, careless and selfish, as Susan had charged, and keep Alethea waiting.

As she said, she had other options and she would follow them.

He had moved on to the next era in his life; a sensible era, during which he would court and marry Alethea, settle himself down in Yorkshire and become a responsible husband and son.

He was accepting the mantle of his future.

A commotion outside drew Alethea to the window. ‘He is here.’

Alethea had been full of nervous excitement all morning. It was the first time she had been officially escorted by Henry. Susan smiled, ignoring the burning in her chest which hinted at jealousy. The emotion had prodded her with its vindictive taunts all night, keeping her awake.

When Alethea left the room, Susan looked out of the window. She could see Henry’s curricle. Was that the one he had crashed, or a new one?

After a short while Alethea and Henry appeared from the house and walked towards the carriage. He had brought a groom with him, who held the horses. There was a step on the back of curricle where the man could stand while Henry drove, so presumably he would play a silent chaperon.

Alethea had not said where Henry was taking her, but it was most likely to Hyde Park .

Henry held Alethea’s hand solicitously as she climbed up onto the seat of the high, open, sporting carriage. He smiled before he walked around to the driver’s seat.

He patted one horse on the rump as he passed it, then brushed a hand along the other’s cheek as he walked around the animals’ heads. On the driver’s side, he held the handles of the carriage and energetically climbed up. His shoulder looked fully healed.

When Henry picked up the reins, his groom let go of the horses’ heads, ran to the back of the carriage, clasped a bar and jumped up to stand on a footplate as Henry pulled away.

Alethea was talking and gesturing with her hands. Henry looked at her and nodded.

A sharp, cruel pain pierced through Susan’s chest.

It was not fair. The words slipped through her head. But they were wrong. Henry was Alethea’s. He had always been Alethea’s. Her spirits may have suddenly decided to favour him too, but nothing could change no matter what she felt. She had no right to feel jealous.