Page 38 of The Reckless Love of an Heir (The Marlow Family Secrets #4)

‘I am sorry, it was a careless thing to say.’

‘What, to mention my brothers? It was not careless. You cannot be careful of every word you speak and I do not want people to tiptoe about us trying to not mention William.’ His answer was sharp, but then he said more gently, ‘Nothing you could do or say, Susan, would be without care. If anything is your fault it is that you care too much about what others think. I know you asked out of concern, and the issue is we are all torn in two and nothing will bring William back, yet everything reminds us of him. ’

She longed to reach out and hold him as Alethea had. Her hands fell to her sides.

He reached out and held one. It was not a formal gesture, it was as if he needed to hold her too but had not known how to achieve it.

She held his hand in return, her thumb pressing against the back of his. I love you. The words whispered through her as she looked into the unbearable sadness in his brown eyes.

‘Susan…’

She let his hand go and turned to his sister. ‘Sarah. I am so sorry.’

Sarah’s grief shone in her eyes and trembled in her lips. Susan held her as pain pressed into her heart too. A couple of weeks ago Sarah had been enjoying her first season, clothed in bright colours.

Sarah pulled away, withdrawing her handkerchief from her sleeve to dab at her eyes.

Susan wiped the tears from her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve.

‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I should be offering you comfort.’

‘I have been constantly crying,’ Sarah answered. ‘I think every day my tears will run dry but still they fall. It was just so fast. I cannot accept he will not walk into the room with the others. I expect to see him now we are all home again, and he is never here.’

Susan looked at her aunt. Alethea stood with her. She was trying to be stoic and smiling slightly as Alethea talked but she had dark shadows beneath her eyes.

‘I will ring for tea, Mama,’ Henry said behind Susan. ‘You sit.’ It was a thoughtful thing for him to do, and very unlike Henry.

Susan glanced at him. He gave her a closed-lipped smile.

Her awareness of him as he walked away was not like the normal all-consuming pull – instead it became a sharp jerk on her heartstrings when he left the room. He looked so solemn. Henry had never been solemn.

Alethea sat on an empty sofa. Susan remained on her feet, uncertain where to go.

When Henry came back into the room Aunt Jane said, ‘Sit down with Alethea, darling.’

He glanced at Susan before consenting to the suggestion.

He wished to sit with her, she knew it. He sought her comfort as much her heart longed to give it. But as things were, both their families believed his arrangement with Alethea still stood. He could not favour Susan.

He is only fulfilling his duty. The sharp words struck through her in denial of the flash of jealousy that sparked from a flint. But what point was there in jealousy? They had agreed nothing might progress.

She turned away and sat near Sarah and Christine, trying to stop herself from straining to listen to Henry and Alethea.

She talked with them of William, of their fondest memories and the things they would miss most about their beloved brother.

Henry’s voice was low as he spoke with Alethea; she could not hear a word.

She heard some of Alethea’s words, though.

She was speaking of things that had happened in town. Susan doubted Henry cared today.

When the tea arrived, Susan stood and offered to pour it, to save the other women from the task. Susan’s mother smiled, acknowledging her kindness. Alethea had not even turned her head from her conversation with Henry. He glanced over and gave Susan a smile that said, thank you.

She poured while Sarah and Christine circulated with the cups.

She, Alethea, and their mother and father were dots of pale colour in a room of blackness.

The blackness hung in the air too, every conversation was so much quieter.

Only Alethea’s voice carried with lilting emphasis.

Henry’s father conversed with hers, rarely responding and using a succinct, measured, brief tone, while Aunt Jane punctuated the conversation with Susan’s mother with dabs of her handkerchief against her eyes.

After the tea had been drunk Susan continued her quiet conversation with Sarah and Christine. The drawing room door opened.

‘We are back,’ Percy said.

Gerard and Stephen walked in behind their older brother.

The three of them were flushed from a hard ride, their clothes a little dishevelled, but the sense of a crushed spirit hung about them.

Compassion drew Susan to her feet. Of course Stephen and Gerard must have been closest to William.

She did not know the younger boys well, there had been too great a gap in their ages, yet still her heart went out to them.

But once she was standing she did not know what to say or do; she could see they would not welcome her embracing them.

‘Thank you, Susan. It would be very kind of you to ring for a fresh pot of tea,’ Henry said.

She looked at him. He knew she had not stood up for that reason; he was saving her from the awkwardness which held her still.

He rose and walked across the room. ‘And I presume you boys would welcome shortbread or whatever treat Cook can send us up. How was your ride?’ His hand settled on Gerard’s shoulder.

‘Good,’ Gerard answered as he turned and briefly hugged Henry.

She had never seen Henry hold his younger brothers. She turned away to call for a maid, heat flushing her cheeks, as though she had just glimpsed something private .

‘Do not worry, Susan.’ Stephen touched her forearm, stopping her. ‘I will walk down to the kitchens and ask, then I may choose whatever Cook has on offer.’ He smiled at her, a natural smile.

‘I’ll come with you.’ Gerard joined his brother and both boys left the room barely moments after they had entered it.

‘Susan.’ Percy bowed his head in greeting. She nodded too, then returned to her seat.

‘How were they?’ Henry asked Percy as they sat.

‘They rode hard, mad for constant races.’

Henry turned his back on Alethea and faced Percy. ‘I have no idea what to do to help them.’

Alethea talked to Sarah and Christine, no one else was listening to Henry and Percy.

‘We are doing what we can.’

Henry nodded, but she could see he did not believe it.

‘What do you think, Susan?’ Sarah asked.

Susan looked at the women, but she was unable to answer because she had not been listening to their conversation. Her thoughts and her heart sat beside Henry and took hold of his hand again.

‘Henry said the funeral is to be in four days, on the Thursday, in York Minster,’ Alethea announced in the carriage on the way home.

‘I shall be going,’ Papa stated.

‘I wish that I could,’ Alethea answered.

‘It is unseemly for a woman to attend,’ Mama answered, ‘and it is hardly appropriate for you when William’s mother and sisters would not. ’

‘I only said I wish, not that I would,’ Alethea complained.

But Susan understood where Alethea’s complaint came from, she wished she might be there too. She longed to stand beside Henry.

‘We will go to Farnborough to support Jane and the girls instead,’ Mama answered. ‘We will be there when the men return.’

The house would be full. William’s family would fill the local hotels and inns or stay at his cousin Rob’s. There would be no chance for Susan to speak to Henry alone.

She sighed and looked out of the window, her heart so heavy.

She had not changed her mind, she would find employment and leave. Yet… It did not mean she could bear to watch Henry in pain and not offer comfort. I love him.