The Reckless Love of an Heir

by Jane Lark

  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’d never been annoyed by Harry’s flirting before.

  “Will you be at Madam’s tonight? I’ve 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’d been involved in it since he’d attended university in Oxford. “No. I have not been going. I am no longer interested.” There, the statement was made. It was the first time he’d 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 loudly, 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. 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 had accepted his future.

  ~

  There was a commotion outside. Susan looked out of the window. Henry had arrived.

  “He is here.” Alethea stood.

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

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

  After a short while Alethea and Henry appeared from the house and walked towards the carriage. He’d brought a groom with him to hold the horses, and presumably to play silent chaperon.

  Alethea hadn’t said where Henry was taking her, presumably to Hyde Park.

  Henry held Alethea’s hand solicitously as she climbed up on to the high, open, sporting carriage, then he smiled before he turned to walk 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 gripped the handles of the carriage and climbed up, energetically. His shoulder looked fully healed.

  When Henry picked up the reins, his groom let go of the horses and then ran to the back of the carriage, gripped 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.

  Chapter Ten

  Henry arrived at the Forths’ ball with his parents. Society would realise tonight that there were plans for the two families to be joined.

  He handed his hat to a footman then followed his father and mother towards the receiving line. The ballroom beyond it was not overly full, his family had arrived early, as he was to open the dancing with Alethea.

  He bowed over Aunt Julie’s hand. “Good evening.”

  “It is a pleasure to have you here, Henry.”

  The Forths’ had held a ball each year, even though Susan and Alethea had never come to town with them for the season before. Henry had never attended those balls, he’d mostly avoided his family’s social circles and spent his time with Harry and his friends in bawdy houses and clubs.

  “Uncle Casper.” Henry bowed slightly to Lord Forth. Then he reached Alethea.

  She smiled very brightly, with the flirtatious smile she saved for him. “Hello.”

  When he took her hand she lowered into a deep formal curtsy. Their drive in Hyde Park had been enjoyable, she had a zest for life and an easy humour. There was no doubt that if they wed they’d suit. “Alethea.” He bowed and kissed the back of her fingers. “I shall see you in a while, for the first dance.”

  He received another bright, flirtatious smile. Then he moved on.

  Good Lord.

  The sight of Susan struck him in the chest with a hard thump. Her hair had been styled again and it was magnificently done, it had been lifted from the back of her neck and dressed high on her head, yet a single coil had been trained to fall over her left shoulder. His fingers itched to touch it, and to touch the pale skin of her nape. But most strikingly… “You are not wearing your spectacles…”

  “You need not say it as though it is a miracle. I have not regained my eyesight, Alethea merely persuaded me to leave them off; she said it ruined the look of my hair.”

  “Can you see without them?”

  She smiled at him, a very honest natural smile. “I can see you very clearly now, but if you decide to nod at me from across the room later, do not expect me to respond, you will be nothing but a blur.”

  He smiled at her jesting, as he took hold of her hand. She lowered into a formal curtsy as Alethea had done. “I have already told you your eyes are pretty whether you have your spectacles on or not, but I agree with Alethea, with your hair, so, you look far better leaving them off. You have been hiding your beauty, Susan.”

  She pulled her hand free from his before he had the chance to consider kissing it, and coloured up. He smiled again and walked on, as she looked at the next guest who’d lined up to be introduced.

  The girls would know everyone in London by the end of the night. But that was the purpose of hosting a ball to introduce your daughters. It was a method by which they might then dance with all of the men who came to such events without fearing that they had not already met.

  Henry followed his father into the ballroom. They walked over to where his uncle and aunt stood. Harry’s parents. Henry did not see Harry, though, but it was as rare for Harry to attend such events as it had been for Henry a year ago, and yet he had promised to dance with Susan.

  “Is Harry still planning to attend, Edward?”

  “He is, yet he is arriving independently because God forbid that he should be seen with us.”

  Henry smiled. He liked his uncle Edward. “Ellen.” He bowed to his aunt.

  She nodded at him. “You look very handsome, Henry, and you are such a rare sight at balls you will have half the young women fainting.”

  He gave her a wry look and shook his head. They knew that he was promised to Alethea.

  He looked at his cousins, Helen and Jennifer. The two girls were inseparable.

  They’d been brought out into society together even though there was a year between them, because Helen had waited until she may share the event with Jennifer.

  “Hello, Henry.” Helen curtsied. He bowed and kissed her hand.

  “Henry.” Jennifer performed her curtsy.

  They had the sort of closeness which meant they would finish each other’s sentences. Any one who did not know would think them twins. He smiled. The man who married one must like the other or they would not be married at all.

  “Harry is here, Papa,” Helen said.
<
br />   Henry looked across his shoulder. Harry was at the end of the receiving line bowing over Susan’s hand as he lifted it to his lips. She smiled broadly at him when he straightened and he hung on to her fingers for a moment and flashed her a smile after she’d said something. Then he moved on. Three of Harry’s cousins from Aunt Ellen’s sisters followed him; William Wiltshire, who had the courtesy title of Marquis, as heir to his father’s dukedom, Gregory Stewart who was the heir to an earldom, like Henry, and Frederick Rush another who already held the courtesy title of Marquis.

  All of them were men who Henry and Harry socialised with constantly in the clubs and brothels. In fact, it was probably where they had come from.

  One by one they progressed along the receiving line. The Forths were very close friends of William’s parents too. They had known both sides of Harry’s family for years. Henry supposed that was why his friends had all crept out of the crevices of London society to see the girls.

  Henry wondered if they knew of his particular interest. He had never mentioned it but Harry might have. They each bowed over Alethea’s hand, and then bowed over Susan’s. Something sharp gripped in Henry’s gut when Susan laughed. He hated seeing her laugh for others, when she had kept that part of herself from him for years—which was a selfish, foolish thought. But Harry had been correct the other day, Henry had no right to care what Susan did.

  Henry sighed and looked away.

  Yet if Susan and Alethea knew the true nature of the men who kissed their hands… But if they did they would know his history too, and that was not a good thought.

  When his father had said he regretted his past, Henry had mocked the idea. He was learning to understand the sentiment and mock his own bloody-minded ignorance.

  He looked back at Jennifer and Helen. “If you will excuse me, I shall join Harry.”

  Before he made it across the room, though, the orchestra began to play the tune of a waltz. His aim then became a need to collect Alethea.

  William had completed his greetings and left the receiving line, but he turned back too and when Henry reached the girls William was taking Susan’s hand. He must have volunteered himself for the first dance with her.

  “The first dance was mine, Susan!” Harry had returned too. “You cannot renege on me. Fair is fair, I shall not let you play so fast and loose.”

  Susan smiled. Alethea stepped about them leaving the others to argue over Susan’s hand.

  Alethea’s turquoise blue eyes shone in the light thrown by the giant chandelier above them as the music swelled and filled the room. Henry took her hand and led her out into the middle of the floor, then held her as he ought for the dance, and began to turn her.

  He looked about to ensure they were not likely to collide with anyone else dancing.

  Harry had reclaimed his place as Susan’s partner and was walking her out on to the floor. She had that light in her eyes that only seemed to shine in a ballroom. When Harry formed the hold of the waltz, Susan had her back turned to Henry. The way her hair was dressed, so high, it showed off her neck to perfection. Her neck was a little longer than Alethea’s and while the single coil of hair curled like a serpent about one side, the other was bare and waiting to be kissed…

  Henry swallowed back the thought, but whoever had dressed her hair had done so deliberately to place an emphasis on the extreme femininity of her nape, and because she was a little thinner than Alethea the fragility of that spot was accentuated without any aid.

  “I am so excited. I cannot wait…” Alethea said. Henry ceased day-dreaming and turned his attention back to Alethea. Yet—he could not stop thinking about Susan, and seeing her in his head. He stared into Alethea’s very pretty eyes, yet it was Susan’s eyes that appeared in his mind.

  He bowed over Alethea’s hand when the dance ended, and was about to walk her back to Uncle Casper and Aunt Julie, when a man who was older than him, who Henry did not know by name, came to escort her for the next dance. A jolt struck through Henry at the thought of a stranger dancing with Alethea, and yet numerous strangers had danced with her at the assembly in York. Or rather, people who had been strangers to him.

  “Lord Stourton,” Alethea acknowledged.

  He left Alethea to the stranger, as she had obviously been introduced, and looked for Susan. He had promised Susan the second dance.

  Harry had walked her back to her parents and was conversing with them.

  Henry walked over there. At the same moment he saw William approach her. Damn.

  “This is my dance I believe, Susan,” Henry said when he reached her, his gaze on her profile. She had turned to face William. She smiled at William then turned to Henry.

  He waited for the moment when she would try to renege on him. She looked very different without her spectacles, less dignified but somehow more… more… touchable.

  She smiled. “It is.”

  Those eyes were as striking as the image he’d held in his mind while dancing with Alethea—he had not imagined their exceptional quality.

  It was a country dance. He wished it was another waltz, he had not forgotten their dance in York. She was very good at dancing the waltz.

  She accepted his arm, and held it gently, as she always did, in the way only she did. He wondered if she knew that most women merely lay their hand on a gentleman’s arm. “William.” Henry bowed his head towards his friend. William smiled wryly. Henry then threw a smile at Harry. Harry sent him a conspiratorial smile back, he had enjoyed his waltz with Susan too.

  Henry led her to join a set which made an eight. He could have joined the set Alethea and her partner stood within. He had not.

  “You are looking very well,” he said when Susan let go of his arm.

  “Because I am not wearing spectacles.” She smiled. The charm of her ballroom smile struck him in the gut—and the chest. Why was she so different in a ballroom?

  “When you let a maid style your hair it looks…” What? Prettier? Every woman’s hair was prettier when it was styled for an evening affair. More grown up… More tempting… He longed to touch her nape, to clasp his fingers about that delicate curve, but not only that, it made him wish to pull her lips to his. “I like your hair like that.” Was the only thought he let escape his mouth.

  “Thank you.” She gave him a little mocking curtsy.

  He breathed in, he should not be thinking such things, Susan was Alethea’s sister. He was supposed to be establishing more responsible behaviour—and it had been Susan spurring him that had encouraged his change of heart.

  Yet it was only instinct—it was simply the attraction that a woman’s body wove about a man. Nothing more. It was what he must learn to overcome if he was to become a married man.

  He took his position opposite Susan, awaiting the commencement of the dance, and thought of Susan leaning over her orchid paintings, focused on the task, and then playing the pianoforte, lost in the music, and now… When the dance began she smiled at him gleefully, enthusiastic and excited. He smiled too and threw himself into the dance and lost himself in watching her. Susan was a rare woman. There were not many who had such variety to their nature. He would think of her as she thought of the flowers. As something to appreciate with the mind of an artist.

  When the dance came to its end, William approached them before they had reached her parents. “Is it my turn at last? Am I free to dance with you without stepping on anymore toes, Susan?”

  She smiled at him. “You may claim me, William.”

  Her fingers let go of Henry’s arm and when she walked away she threw one of her ballroom smiles across her shoulder.

  The lack of her grip left a strange sensation.

  He turned around and looked about, not really sure what to do. A sense of bereavement caught at him. It was bizarre, yet he felt deserted, empty now Susan had gone.

  He swallowed back the odd feeling in his throat. He did not care to dance the next. Fred, another of his friends and Harry’s cousins, stood near by. Henry walked across the
room, collected a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman and joined his friend.

  While they talked he watched both Susan and Alethea dancing. Alethea was always bright and jolly, there was nothing surprising in her manner, or the smiles she gave to her partners. But Susan… She expressed a depth of vibrancy when she danced that was entirely abnormal for her nature. She had hidden her true self for years, either that or he had been blind.

  Harry joined Henry and Fred as the dancing continued. “Susan is in fine spirits tonight,” Harry said, smiling at Henry. “I did not know she could dance so well, nor smile so brightly. The girl is a charm. I do not remember her so when we were children.”

  “She was not so,” Henry replied. “She has hidden in corners ever since I have known her.”

  “She is not hiding anymore,” William jested as he joined them too, having relinquished Susan to another partner.

  They all looked at her then, watching her take her position in a new set.

  Alethea was the eldest and the one they’d all deemed prettiest for years, the one they’d all hovered near when the girls were with them, while Susan had backed away and eventually left the room.

  “She’s a good waltzer,” Harry added with a laugh.

  “I should dance with her too then. If we are to spend the night extolling Susan’s charms then I ought to experience them,” Fred quipped, mocking them all. “If I am to waste an evening at this ball I might as well appreciate the scenery.”

  “You must,” Harry answered.

  Discomfort twisted within Henry’s stomach. They had had conversations over preferences like this when discussing whores, it was uncomfortable to hear them discuss Susan.

  Henry felt as though he owned both the Forth girls, his instinct was to be as protective over them as he would be over Sarah when she made her debut.

  Self-centered Susan had accused. He was, but now his selfishness absorbed Alethea and her. Yet, careless… He did not feel careless anymore.

  When the supper dance came he claimed Alethea again, this time for a country dance. He enjoyed the dance immensely, he could find no fault with her at all, she fit well within London’s society, she would make a very good countess.