Page 21 of The Reckless Love of an Heir (The Marlow Family Secrets #4)

Susan’s hands trembled when she tied the ribbons of her bonnet, as she prepared to go downstairs to the hall to meet Henry and Harry for their excursion to the Victoria and Albert Museum.

She had thought of nothing else but Henry in the hours since their last waltz.

Her mind was full of him, and it was more than appreciation.

She ought not to be thinking of him. He was Alethea’s beau.

Yet she had become fixated upon the memory of that waltz. Upon the details in his irises as they had stared at one another. Upon the sensation of his thumb caressing her back as his hand had braced her while she moved. Upon the way his larger hand gently but securely held hers.

She had no idea how to greet him today. Her tongue might not form a single word. She had become a flustered fool.

She sighed out her breath. The only thing to do was walk downstairs and behave as though nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

She’d been entirely charmed by Henry. I cannot be, he’s Alethea’s .

She stared at herself in the mirror. ‘Stop thinking of him!’ But he would not be ordered from her mind.

A gentle tap struck the door of her bedchamber. ‘Miss!’

‘Yes!’ Susan called.

The door handle turned and the door opened. ‘Lord Henry and Captain Marlow are downstairs, miss.’ Yes, she knew. She had heard Henry’s curricle draw up and Alethea call down the stairs.

‘Thank you. Let them know I will be down directly.’

The maid left and Susan looked at herself in the mirror once more. However she would face Henry, the time had come.

She picked up her cloak and slipped it over her arm to carry it down as she left the room. When she reached the stairs she could hear Alethea below, speaking with Henry and Harry.

Susan’s heartbeat raced as she walked down the stairs to the reception hall. Alethea stood facing Harry.

Henry looked up as Susan walked down from the last landing, and his gaze struck hers.

She had not imagined the look in his eyes while they had danced, he was not merely looking at her, his gaze said something else.

But it was not the glitter she had always seen in his eyes when he looked at Alethea.

He smiled. She smiled, and then he looked away, at Alethea.

Did he know how she felt? She hoped he did not.

‘You have taken your time, Susan,’ Alethea accused.

‘Sorry, I was absorbed in my book. I had forgotten the hour.’ Liar . She had been counting down the minutes since Henry said goodnight to them after the ball.

When she stepped from the bottom stair, Harry came forward. ‘Good day, Susan, I hope you are looking forward to our outing as much as I?’

‘Very much.’ She smiled, only looking at him, and trying to think only of him. But she had not felt any emotion for Harry or anyone else she danced with.

‘Let me take your cloak.’ He took it from her arm.

Her fingers trembled when she pushed her spectacles further up her nose, before turning so Harry might set her cloak on her shoulders.

When she turned to let him tie the cords at the front for her, she caught Henry watching, as he offered his arm to Alethea.

Today would be torture.

‘Susan.’ Henry bowed his head slightly.

‘Henry.’ She bowed her head too.

That minimal level of communication between her and Henry set the pattern for the day. She shared only odd words with him, with a stilted politeness, while about those words Henry chatted amiably with Alethea, and Susan with Harry, and Harry with them all.

If Harry or Alethea noticed Henry’s and Susan’s awkwardness, they said nothing, but it was the way Henry and Susan had spoken to each other throughout their childhood, so perhaps it did not seem strange.

Harry was excellent company, though, he laughed liberally and smiled constantly, jesting about and exclaiming over the displays.

‘Look at this.’ Harry pointed at a sculpted stone frieze in the exhibition hall they were exploring. She turned to look but as she did her gaze struck Henry’s. The deep brown quality of his eyes shot a bullet through her heart. He looked away as she turned to face Harry again.

Harry’s eyes were a pale blue, like Aunt Ellen’s, but the colour of his brown hair and his looks were Uncle Edward’s.

Harry smiled at her. ‘You have very pretty eyes, Susan.’ It was as though he read her mind as she had studied his. ‘I will admit, I do not remember noticing before. Have you been hiding your beauty from us all and blossoming in secret, tucked away in your Yorkshire retreat?’

A blush warmed her skin. She had no idea what to say. She never thought herself pretty. But now Henry and Harry had told her she was.

When they returned to the house, Susan’s mother offered the men tea but they declined and said their goodbyes.

Susan waved them off with relief, then retired to her room, desperate to pull herself together and stop thinking of Henry.

Damn. Damn!

Emotions swayed through Henry. It was not just attraction, nor affection, the feelings were more intense.

Susan glanced at him numerous times today, then looked away. In those moments it was clear to him that whatever he felt, she felt it too.

It was absurd. Ridiculous. He had known her for years. He had carelessly disregarded her presence all his life. Yet now… Now he had discovered he cared for someone more than himself, he cared about her.

He flicked the reins, urging his horses into a trot. Harry sat on the curricle’s seat beside him, speaking of the evening he planned and things he wished to do before he returned to his regiment.

Henry’s mind could not focus on a word Harry said.

Susan. Why Susan?

They had never even been particularly friendly until this year. Why Susan?

He spent the afternoon with Alethea, the woman he was supposed to be courting, looking at her sister, only hoping that at any moment Susan might look at him – and when she did …

Damn . He wanted to kiss her.

He had always had a reckless nature. But he had never considered such folly as this.

For the next week, when Henry called on Alethea, to fulfil the promise he had made to her, it was with a darker intent. He visited to see Susan, with a longing to secure a moment to spend time alone with her and explore what the hell it was that possessed him.

Yet, she made it clear she did not desire to know. She took the route of rebellion and ran. Hiding from him whenever she could – hiding from whatever the feelings were between them.

Even when he brought others with him, in the hope of flushing her out of her hiding places, his plan did not work, she would find some excuse to remain hidden. Sending word through the servants or Alethea that she was unwell, too tired, or busy with some household task.

Yet maybe that was for the best, and this would pass…