Page 24 of The Reckless Love of an Heir (The Marlow Family Secrets #4)

Henry had taken off his gloves, out of agitation.

He slapped them into the palm of his other hand, ran them across his fingers and then repeated the motion.

He was standing on the corner, so he might easily see along the street in either direction, and on to the other road he expected Susan to walk along.

It was two o’clock.

He had been standing waiting here for an hour like a fool. If Susan came now it would no longer appear an accidental meeting.

But she was not coming.

Damn her!

Henry turned and walked away.

His fingers lifted and removed his hat, then his other hand lifted and his fingers ran through his hair.

They shook a little. He put his hat back on, his hand still clasping his gloves, and walked on, quickly, anger and agitation burning in his blood – and doubt, and guilt, and confusion and… Lord … So many things.

He had not found a single word to explain or express his emotions last night, and so his body had resorted to actions, responses he knew well, responses that could speak a thousand words, and yet… even those responses had not explained a thing. He had never kissed a woman like Susan before.

His heart beat on in a steady hard rhythm that matched the pace of his strides. Madness. Insanity. Something had touched his mind and overtaken him.

She had worn lime green. She was visible at every moment in that room.

Shining. Her spirit, normally so measured, had been…

Lord, how to describe Susan in a ballroom?

Animated yet genuine. It was so absorbing.

He was envious of his friends sitting with her while she had eaten supper, and of every man who had the opportunity to touch her when she danced.

Even when he danced with Sarah, his eyes were drawn to Susan.

He had tried to act responsibly. To fulfil his duty and focus on Sarah and Alethea – but recklessness was in his blood. He thought he could reform, but clearly he could not. He had been right in what he said to Alethea, he was too young to be capable of loyalty.

Yet to be disloyal with her sister. What the hell had gotten into him?

She had gotten into him. It was nothing to do with a general desire for a woman. It was Susan.

He had not slept. Restlessness had kept him turning in his bed, he could not cease thinking of her. Of her lips against his. Of the curve of her neck. Of how her hair had been styled. Of the fit of that dress.

Dash it all , he was certain it had been her first kiss. Her hesitance had told him. Which meant his lips were the first to touch hers. The thought clasped at his groin even as he walked.

He’d kissed Alethea, yes, but she was not like her sister. She had kissed other men, or probably boys, before him. She had pressed her lips back against his with confidence from the very first time he’d leaned forward to lead such an exchange.

Damn it , he could not stop thinking about Susan.

Yet there was Alethea… But there was no room in his mind for Alethea.

Of all the women to engage his heart – her damned sister.

Hell! He had known Susan all his life, why had this happened now? Why not when they were younger? Why at the point he was about to commit to Alethea?

His strides were long and swift as he walked home, but he did not go to his apartment, he went to the mews and asked them to prepare his curricle while he waited. Then he drove to White’s where he hoped to find William, or if not him, one of the others.

Three of his friends were sitting at a table together.

‘Who wishes to race me, London to Brighton, now?’

They all stood. ‘I thought you have given up racing.’ Fred laughed.

‘Not today.’ Today he needed to burn off his energy and explode with recklessness, today he needed to do something wild to help him forget the even wilder – wrong – thing he did last night. He needed to feel careless. He needed to not care about Susan.

But damn it , he did not wish to forget, he wished to repeat it. If he had last night to live again, he would do it all again.

Dusk descended on the world when he neared Brighton.

Henry whipped up his horses, encouraging them on, flicking the straps against their rumps.

It was a breezy day, and the wind sailed past his ears, ruffling his hair.

He had removed his hat long ago. This was freedom.

This was why he had not wished to be married yet, because he would need to tame his appetite for recklessness if he settled.

He was not ready to settle.

‘More flowers from Henry,’ Susan’s mother said when Alethea walked into the room, bearing another vase to fill up the occasional table near the window in the drawing room.

‘Yes, but his notes are just rhymes,’ Alethea said.

‘There is nothing personal in them, he does not even sign them. I think he set up an agreement with a florist to send them daily on his behalf. I do not take them at all seriously any more. They have been arriving from the day we arrived, and they are still arriving even though he has left London without a word.’

Heat rose in Susan’s skin. He had embarrassed Alethea.

He left London the day after Sarah’s debut ball.

The day he asked to meet Susan in Bond Street and she had not gone.

Nobody had heard from him since. She was the only one who knew why he had gone away, even Uncle Robert did not know why, and no one knew where Henry had gone.

He had been missing for a week. Yet still the flowers came.

Alethea was probably right, they had been ordered prior to Sarah’s ball. It hurt less to think that at least.

Susan’s gaze turned to the window and she disappeared into daydreams, imagining what might have been said if she had gone to Bond Street.

But what could have been said? Nothing! She would not hurt her sister.

Yet I kissed Henry! She had already hurt Alethea.

That thought had twisted around in her head for days and it had sharp, vicious edges. It was more like a dream now than truth. A dream? No. A nightmare. She could not believe it happened – that she let it happen.

But it had, and now Henry had disappeared and there was a ball this evening, and Henry had promised to escort Alethea .

A part of Susan was glad. Which was a cruel thought, and made guilt flick its whip at her even harder. She bled with the constant pain of having betrayed her sister.

Had he gone because he did not want to face Alethea? Had he run away from the guilt? Surely – if he was capable of any emotion beyond recklessness and selfishness – he must feel guilty?

She would know if she had gone to Bond Street.

There had been emotions in his eyes beyond recklessness when they kissed – she would swear it. But even if he declared love for her, it could change nothing, he was Alethea’s.

Echoes of the sensations generated by his lips, and his hand at her nape, danced through her body.

He had deserted Alethea.

He had been reckless and now self-centred… and…

Where was he?

When Susan faced the receiving line at the Brookes’ ball, her heart pulsed with the quick beat of fear.

It would be extremely unlikely for Henry’s first reappearance to be here and yet she hoped, and yet she should not hope, and yet she feared.

Her heart skimmed skipping stones, dotting ripples of excitement into a lake of anxiety.

Those sharp sudden moments of longing wished to know what would happen next time she met Henry – because of course she would meet him again.

His parents lived beside hers, and were close friends.

They could not avoid each other for ever.

The part of her that was terrified – feared what would happen next.

The butler introduced her. She accepted Lord Brooke’s offered hand and curtsied. When he let her hand go Susan turned to his wife. The couple were still quite young and it was only the two of them welcoming their guests.

When the cordialities were done Alethea slipped her arm through Susan’s, and drew Susan on into the ballroom as their parents’ followed. It was such a crush it was hard to see from one side of the room to the other, she could not see whether Henry was there or not.

‘Robert and Jane are over there.’ Her father lifted a hand and pointed. ‘Shall we join them? Perhaps Robert has discovered the cause for Henry’s silence, although he had heard nothing yesterday.’

Susan’s heartbeat slowed, as the fear of seeing him cleared. If he had come tonight, no matter her feelings of guilt, if he asked her to talk privately again, she would go. She would betray her sister again.

When they neared Uncle Robert he lifted a hand, acknowledging them. The group he stood among contained Uncle Edward, Aunt Ellen, John and Katherine, Mary and Drew, and others in Aunt Ellen’s family.

Uncle Robert took Alethea’s hand and kissed her cheek. ‘I am sorry on behalf of my vagabond of a son,’ he said as he released her. ‘I am ashamed and I have no idea why he left. But it is par for the course with Henry.’

Alethea smiled, but when she turned, Susan saw the look of distress that crossed her sister’s face. It was callous of Henry to leave.

To leave us both!

Yet she left him waiting for her in Bond Street. This was all her fault. Perhaps if they met, they could have agreed that it would not progress, and he would have committed to Alethea .

The Earl of Stourton approached. ‘Miss Forth,’ he said to Alethea, with a bow. ‘May I have the honour of this dance?’

Alethea smiled. ‘Of course.’

He had sent her a posy of flowers after Sarah’s ball.

He offered his arm. Alethea lay her fingers upon it and they walked away.

‘Susan.’

She turned to face John.

He smiled. She did not know him even a quarter as well as his half-brothers Harry or Rob.

She curtsied, deeply.

He bowed slightly. ‘How are you?’

‘Well, thank you.’

‘How are you enjoying the London season?’

‘It is a little hectic.’

He smiled.

‘—I have no idea where my son is…’ Uncle Robert’s voice carried through the family group. He was talking to the other men.

‘Peter the same,’ Lord Sparks responded. ‘So they must be together, wherever they are.’

John looked away from Susan. ‘Why do you not know where they have gone?’

Uncle Robert rolled his eyes in a mocking manner. ‘Must I say it again? Because that is my son, John. Have we not covered this ground a hundred times?’

Susan’s heart pounded once more. She felt as though she should not listen to them discussing Henry, yet where else was she to go?

A note of humour escaped John’s throat before he answered. ‘We have, but on this occasion I happen to know where he is. I would have?— ’

‘Where?’

‘Where?’

Uncle Robert and Lord Sparks exclaimed in unison.

John smiled wryly, as though he thought them foolish as all the men looked at him, including Susan’s father. ‘Henry went into White’s a week ago and challenged William and Frederick to race him to Brighton. Peter accompanied them.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Uncle Robert barked, then looked at Susan. ‘I apologise. I should not have used that language.’

‘Where are they now?’ Uncle Edward asked.

‘In Brighton still, I believe. I have not seen them in the clubs in London nor heard of their return. They are probably at this moment drunk and losing money over a hand of cards somewhere there. I am surprised you did not know?’ John looked at Uncle Edward. ‘Of course Harry’s regiment is there.’

‘I do not need to be reminded, and he would need little temptation to join them.’

‘That is probably why they have stayed.’ John laughed.

‘I do not find it amusing, John,’ Uncle Robert said. ‘And you do not wish to know what I will do to my damned son—’ Uncle Robert stopped and looked at Susan. ‘Sorry. Forgive me again for my language. Is there no one for you to dance with?’

‘So he may swear as much as he wishes,’ her father whispered near her ear.

‘Come, Susan.’ John lifted his arm. ‘I do not believe you have been introduced to my cousins on my father’s side.’

‘What will you do?’ her father asked of Uncle Robert, as Susan accepted John’s arm.