Page 39 of The Reckless Love of an Heir (The Marlow Family Secrets #4)

When Henry stripped off his black evening coat his gaze caught on his reflection in the mirror in his bedchamber. He stared at the image in the flickering candlelight. He had become so used to seeing himself dressed in black his white shirt glowed like a beacon in the shadow-filled room.

He untied the black neckcloth from about his throat as Samson watched from his prostrate position on Henry’s bed.

Henry had never felt so tired.

He threw the neckcloth onto the back of the chair, then began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

Scarce weeks ago, Susan had given him a new lens to observe his life through, with her accusations. It would be a life-long regret that his self-discovery had come too late to know his youngest brother well.

Yet he was not the only one who was suffering and he would not be self-centred in his grief. His father had barely said a word since Henry had brought William home, and his mother could do little without crying. His sisters were as silent as his father and as tearful as his mother .

He took off his waistcoat and threw it onto the chair.

The boys’ method of coping with their grief, and the silence and tears of the others, was to avoid the others and therefore the house. They rode, walked outside, played chess and cards in their rooms and kept away from the drawing room.

Henry pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it onto the chair beside the mirror.

The strength within him crumbled. He sat in the chair containing his discarded clothing and gripped his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

He sighed out then breathed in. ‘Damn.’

He was the linchpin holding the family together. He had taken on all his father’s responsibilities and duties because his father ignored them, and his brothers looked to him because their father was withdrawn and their mother too upset.

He was even the one to travel into York and arrange the funeral, and he had asked his sisters to write to all those who needed to know and might wish to come.

There was not time for him to give into his grief. He stood again, refusing the feelings gnawing at his innards. But heartache screamed in his head. Samson rose to follow him. ‘No, stay,’ he ordered the dog. ‘There is no point in both of us losing sleep.’

He left the room without bothering to put his shirt back on and headed downstairs to the family drawing room. He could not sit in his room and listen to any more of the screaming inside him. Brandy was what he needed to drown out his thoughts and deaden the pain – then perhaps he would sleep.

When he pushed the door open the room was lit, not just by the moonlight stretching through the windows, but by a single candle too. ‘Hello, Percy.’

His brother stood in his dressing gown, doing exactly what Henry wished to do, pouring himself a brandy .

‘Would you fill a glass for me?’ Henry asked.

‘You cannot sleep either…’ Percy looked back with a bitter half-smile.

‘No,’ Henry agreed as he crossed the room to join Percy.

His brother handed him a glass. Henry lifted it, tapped the base against the rim of Percy’s, then drank its contents in one swallow and held his glass out for a refill. Percy drank his too then filled the glasses again.

‘I am exhausted, I should be able to sleep,’ Percy stated. ‘Stephen and Gerard never rest, they keep me busy all day, and yet my mind has no inclination to allow me to shut my eyes.’

‘I feel the same.’ Henry drained his second glass of brandy, then picked up the decanter by its neck. ‘Shall we sit?’ The heat of the liquor burned the back of his throat, in a satisfying way.

Henry sat at one end of a sofa. Percy occupied a chair. Henry refilled his glass then set the decanter down on the floor between them and leaned back.

‘Papa is falling to pieces,’ Percy said quietly as he stretched to pick up the decanter and fill his glass.

The muscles in Henry’s stomach tightened. ‘I know.’

‘He ignores Stephen and Gerard.’

‘I know.’ Henry sipped from his glass. It was why he had begun fulfilling his father’s duties, because someone had to stop William’s death destroying their family. The family Henry had previously taken for granted. ‘When Uncle Edward arrives tomorrow, I will ask him to speak with Papa.’

‘He is going to Rob’s.’

‘He will immediately come here to see Papa, you know he will.’

Percy filled his glass again and slung one leg over the arm of the chair, so he faced Henry.

They had not been confidants in the past, and yet this was just how Henry had imagined it might be in the future when all his brothers were grown.

It would have been the five of them talking. Now they were only four.

He sighed out a breath.

‘Do you miss him?’ Percy said.

‘Yes, I miss William.’ Henry would not allow William’s name to become a dead word.

‘You never really spoke to him, you never spoke much to any of us, but more to me because we were at school together. You virtually ignored William.’

Henry took a large swig of his brandy. The void William had left inside him burned with guilt. ‘That is why I cannot sleep. I wish I had. I miss him even though I barely knew him. I miss the man he would have become. The man I would have known well, had William had the chance to grow.’

‘He—’

‘Say William’s name, Percy, for God’s sake. Do not let him be unmentionable. He – was our brother. William.’

Percy coughed and swallowed back a rough sound of emotion in his throat, then sipped some brandy before continuing.

‘ William was the one who made me laugh the most; he teased and played tricks. He was the ringleader of trouble even though he was the youngest.’ Percy smiled, looking into the liquid in his glass, then up at Henry. ‘He was the most like you.’

The words slashed at Henry, cutting into his new fragility.

His heart had turned from hardened rough flesh to weak, soft tissue in the last few weeks.

He drained his glass again to wash away the bitter taste in his throat.

‘I wish I had known him better. I would have talked sense into him and persuaded him not to be like me. I was a reckless idiot.’ Henry stood and walked back over to the tray of decanters, to hide the emotion he warred with.

Percy laughed, although it had a heavy sound. ‘You are no idiot and you would not have said a word to William about being sensible. You are reckless, you would never have been William’s voice of reason.’

The statement was true. No, he had been the Devil on his brother’s shoulder, whispering without even being near him – do bad things.

Susan had been more right than even she had known, and now he had to carry a burden far worse than the trauma his death would have wrought on his family.

He had to live, knowing he had caused his brother’s death and watching his family suffer his loss.

‘I am going back to my room to try and sleep,’ Henry said.

‘I shall come upstairs too.’ Percy drained his glass then stood, picked up the decanter and returned it to its tray.

An urge to embrace Percy ran through Henry.

He had promised himself he would show his affections now.

He did not obey the urge, though, Percy would think it odd.

Yet, he would seek more conversations like this and build a closeness with his brothers.

It was the only option he had to compensate for William’s loss.

Now, though, he needed to be alone to manage the pain swelling inside him and threatening to tear him in half.

And Susan…

He was trying not to think of Susan.

But an image of her face as she had held his hand, before Sarah had drawn her attention, hovered in his mind.

His spirit wanted to renege on their agreement. But that would hurt her, and he could not do that.

Henry managed to sleep for a couple of hours, thanks to the brandy, but when that wore off he lay awake looking into the dark, at William’s lifeless body .

He got up as soon as the sun rose, dressed quickly and walked down to the stables.

The grooms were busy cleaning out the stalls and so he saddled the stallion he wanted to ride himself.

He held the pommel, pulled himself up to the height of the saddle with strength alone, and swung his leg over the horse.

It was a reckless thing to do. He knew it immediately. The horse could have rejected his movement and made him fall. He should have walked the animal to the mounting block.

But he was just as reckless when he had the stallion out in the meadows; he kicked his heels hard and set the beast off into a gallop, jumping hedges and walls.

The horse’s hooves thundered over the grass, kicking aside the low early morning mist and crushing the heads of the clover.

He raced onto the paths through the woods, bending low to the saddle to avoid the branches.

He was simply riding, with no aim or direction.

But the pace and the physical exertion offered no solace to his battered soul.

As the sun rose higher, he rode onto the land his exemplary cousin Rob rented. It would not take him long to reach Rob’s house. He did not slow the stallion to a canter until he reached the gravel drive, and then only slowed the animal to a trot for the last few yards.

A groom came about from the side of the house to meet him.

The man held the horse’s head steady as Henry dismounted.

He had never called here alone before. He had never been particularly close to Rob.

Rob had not joined the cousins’ friendship group, although he was of an age with Henry.

Even at school and university they only spoke in passing.

But he had not come to speak to Rob, he had come in the hope his uncle had arrived.

Knowing the timings of the journey, it was most likely Uncle Edward would have arrived last evening.

Henry thanked the groom but he did not ask him if Lord Marlow had arrived. He would knock on the door now he was here. If his uncle was not here, he would spend a few moments with Rob.