The Reckless Love of an Heir

by Jane Lark

  Henry nodded and let go of Susan’s hand. “Here, would you take these?” He took off his hat and thrust his gloves into it then handed it over.

  “My Lord.” Davis gave him a deferential nod.

  Henry took hold of Susan’s hand once more and then pulled her along with him, squeezing her hand tightly. His strides were quick. He wanted this done. It should be less uncomfortable than it had been talking to Uncle Casper and yet William had only been buried yesterday…

  He breathed out a measured breath when they neared the open door. Then looked at Susan. Her free hand clutched his forearm for a moment. She was terrified.

  He walked into the room a little ahead of her, her hand still clasped in his.

  His parents were alone and standing together. They’d been embracing. They broke apart. There were tears in his mother’s eyes, and he could see the barrier holding back the emotion in his father’s eyes. Perhaps his mother had been trying to talk some sense into his father, about how life had to go on. It had to. Time did not stop. And there were his brothers and sisters to be thought of.

  His father could do that and not forget William.

  William. William. William. Henry repeated his brother’s name because he would not forget, even though his life was already moving on.

  “Papa. Mama.”

  They looked down at his hand which held Susan’s. He raised it, drawing Susan forward so she stood directly beside him. “I wish to tell you that I am engaged to Susan and we are to be married immediately. I am going to ride over to York to the Archbishop’s offices and fetch a licence.”

  “Henry…” His father’s pitch was incredulous and his forehead creased into a heavy frown. “What is this?” He looked at Susan then. “Forgive me, Susan. But…” He looked at Henry. “What of Alethea?”

  “My affection is for Susan.”

  “Your affection…” He stared at Susan for a moment. As though he could simply not understand. Then he looked at Henry again. “Why now? Can this not wait? It is hardly the time for family upsets.”

  Henry’s mother stood next to his father her mouth agape at his revelation.

  Henry swallowed against a dry throat, he would have spoken bluntly had he been alone, but not with Susan beside him. “It cannot wait, Papa.” Was his answer and his voice was loaded with all that that meant. Yes, he’d acted recklessly again. His father’s eyes held the accusation.

  “Henry.” His father’s brows pulled together forming an even deeper frown of judgement as his pitch definitely did judge.

  Henry looked at his mother. “Mama, will you not welcome Susan to the family?”

  “Oh, goodness.” She instantly snapped out of her shock. “Of course. Of course, dear.” She walked across the room. Henry let go of Susan’s hand as his mother embraced her. “Congratulations. We are all topsy-turvy of late for obvious reasons, but you are most welcome, Susan, dear.”

  His father shook his head at Henry.

  Henry shrugged. There was nothing to say, no one would condone this rush, and nothing could change it.

  He looked at his mother. “Might I leave Susan with you, Mama, while I fetch the licence? Things are understandably difficult for her at home. I would rather Susan waited here.”

  His mother looked at him then Susan. “Is Alethea very upset?”

  “Not upset,” Henry answered. “Angry.”

  “And Forth?” His father asked.

  “Is accepting what must be the next step.”

  His father sighed out a breath of frustration. A breath that accused Henry of being a worthless, reckless son who had failed him.

  “I shall go.” He looked at Susan. “I should imagine I will be back in a couple of hours, Mama will look after you until then.”

  “Susan, come and sit with me.” His mother held out her hand.

  Henry did not let her go immediately. “I’ll have them let Samson up to see you, he will keep you company while I am gone too.”

  She smiled, it was the first smile he’d seen since the moment of her acceptance. “But Samson will wish to fall out with me too when he realises he has competition for your attention.”

  “Not when it is you he will compete with, you have always been his second favourite, and that I would guess you thought I did not know.” He squeezed her hand, then brushed a finger down her cheek before turning away to leave her with his mother and father.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  He’d felt clear headed today, not anxious. But that was because he’d had something occupying his mind—Susan. “Susan.” He looked up at the canopy of the bed. He’d left a candle burning at the bedside. It had burned down to a stub.

  He’d not drunk himself to sleep on brandy for a change, because he’d not wished to wake on his wedding day with a thumping head. But consequently the thoughts that had been a blessed distraction all day had been tormenting him for the last few hours in the dark.

  He had no idea if this was the right thing to have done. Doubt had set in with the darkness.

  Yesterday he’d taken choice from her and from himself.

  Marriage… It was such a step, and life had almost seemed to decide it for him. Only months ago he’d been adamantly against the idea. “Coward.” He rolled to his back, and then to his other side.

  Samson’s breathing shifted in its pace as he disturbed the dog, but Samson did not rise, merely stretched out his hind legs trying to claim more of Henry’s bed.

  God.

  Married.

  Would he feel suffocated? Drowned. Tied-down. This fear had come from nowhere and crept up on him.

  There would be no more curricle racing or raucous nights in brothels. Yet he’d not slept with a whore since… When?

  “Before my curricle accident.”

  He tumbled back on to his back with a sigh, wishing he was asleep and not thinking.

  “Susan.”

  Lord.

  He’d had a sexual encounter with her… Susan…

  How had that happened? Through liquor, grief and recklessness. It had been a moments error of judgement.

  But perhaps not an error? Perhaps a very wise decision, albeit made while he’d been deep in the bottle? Perhaps it had been the best decision he’d ever made? It had forced their hands. Without that, maybe they would never have reneged on their agreement to remain apart.

  Tomorrow she would be in his bed…

  That thought was the one part of marriage he did not have any trouble imagining.

  But he would be a married man, committed. There could be no change of heart.

  Love. The emotion had proven like bread before baking, it had risen, multiplying to double its size since their hour in the rose garden. He would not have a change of heart. “Stop fearing stupid spectres. I love her.”

  The candle flickered scattering shadows across the room, then it guttered and extinguished sending the scent of burning into the air along with the more pungent smell of melted wax.

  It would never be the same when he met his friends. He and Harry, and he and the others, would be entirely different. As a married man he would not be able to speak of the things they did, let alone do them.

  But. “Love.” With love came heartbreak.

  Love… The emotion was not only in his heart but in his blood. Damn. He had enough responsibilities, he had no need for this now, for a wife. In a year… In six months… When he was not so bruised and broken. He was not ready.

  But it was too late not to be ready. “Ahhhhh.” The sigh slipped from deep in his throat. His father’s expression of judgement hovered in his thoughts.

  From tomorrow onwards, he must not be a coward—or reckless—or selfish. He’d forced this. He must protect her from the consequences, and he would do.

  She was here. Within yards. Three rooms away from his.

  God, he would feel better if he went to her. If he could hold her. The best hours of the day had been when they’d been in each others company, and the best of all when he’d had her hand to gr
ip. It was her hand that had stopped him feeling like he was drowning in responsibility and grief.

  Another sigh escaped into the darkness.

  He would not go to her.

  If they were caught it would make things more awkward for her and she’d not been herself today. If she could have run off to the library to paint damned flowers she probably would have.

  But tomorrow… Tomorrow she would be in his bed. Tomorrow he would have the comfort of her body and her hand to hold as he wished.

  Tomorrow he might even sleep without the need to mute the voice in his mind with brandy.

  This was just jitters. He’d made his mind up when he was in town that he was willing to marry Susan. It was only that the moment had been hastened.

  I am not afraid of it! He shouted his mind into silence. He needed to sleep.

  But how will you— “Be quiet!”

  ~

  Sunlight peeked through the cracks in the shutters that covered the windows.

  Susan rolled to her back.

  She had been awake for ages, laying quietly in the Earl of Barrington’s plush guest bedchamber. The light crept about the room revealing the pale greens of the furnishings and the gold braiding.

  Her heart skipped through a country dance.

  In her mind’s eye, there was the note her mother had written, ‘It would be best if you stayed with Robert and Jane. Alethea is very upset.’ Susan turned on to her side and dampened the pillow with more tears.

  Henry had written back on her behalf. She had not known what to say. They’d cast her aside, and she could not be angry, it was her fault. She had become guilt’s permanent companion.

  Henry had told her parents about the wedding. She was to be married in York Minster at midday tomorrow. She looked at the window and the daylight seeping through. Today…

  Today…

  She would be married.

  She stared at the closed shutters as outside the sound of birdsong rose in a chorus.

  Fear twisted around in her stomach, tangling up with the nausea.

  Would her parents forgive her? Would Alethea?

  “Oh.” What if Alethea never forgave her? More tears wet the cotton cover on her pillow.

  She longed to hold Henry.

  No. To be held by him. She was becoming selfish. She was discovering what it was like to be cared for with the same intensity that she cared. He had shown her that today. Shown her that there was a reason for selfish wants on occasion.

  He made her feel better. When he’d been with her today she had felt better, but when he’d gone to York she had been lonely. Aunt Jane had been kind, wonderfully so, considering William, and yet Uncle Robert had left them without speaking.

  She’d offended Henry’s family as well as hers.

  She’d not known what to say when they’d eaten dinner. They’d been quieter than she’d ever known them. Even Sarah and Christine had hardly spoken.

  She’d intruded on their mourning. They had hoped yesterday they would at last be left to grieve, she had ruined that and shattered their peace.

  Today they would be asked to attend a wedding—and yet her selfishness was there again, because she wanted to marry him, no matter that it was hurting others, not to marry him would hurt her and Henry.

  She was to be a wife. “Today,” the word whispered out into the air. “Henry Marlow’s wife.” He’d been Alethea’s since before the day Susan had been born. “Now he is mine.”

  Now he would be hers. Warmth flooded into her blood. She wished he was here. If he was with her she was certain she would not feel so scared.

  She would be happy. And married.

  Married…

  ~

  A letter arrived from Susan’s father just before they ate breakfast. She broke the seal with shaking fingers.

  “What does it say?” Henry asked.

  Her gaze raced across the words. “They are coming.” She looked up and smiled at him.

  “Of course they are coming,” his mother said.

  Susan did not look at her but stayed focused on Henry. “Papa has ordered a carriage. They will collect me here at ten and drive me into York.”

  His hand cupped her face, and his eyes showed his pleasure for her. “I am glad, Susan.”

  “Your parents are not people to miss your marriage.”

  She turned and smiled at his mother, acknowledging her reassurance, but yesterday… She had felt vulnerable, guilty and afraid. She had not been certain.

  She looked back at Henry. “Alethea is not coming.”

  “I think we may forgive her that, though.”

  “Yes, I suppose.” But she would still have liked her there.

  “Your mother will be there, and your father, to give you away,” Henry reassured.

  “Yes.”

  “Cheer up,” he said in a quieter voice. “It is our wedding day.”

  Our wedding… the words swept over her, and made her feel that it was only then she realised just what that meant, even though she’d lain awake most of the night.

  “Come and sit down and eat. I do not want you fainting at the altar before you have spoken your vows.”

  He sat next to her and served her everything himself, filling her plate as he also encouraged Christine and Sarah to eat, and the boys.

  Aunt Jane and Christine and Susan spoke quietly, the boys spoke more raucously but mostly with each other and in slightly hushed tones, with odd glances at their father, who did not speak at all. Henry joined in some of the boys’ conversation, but he mainly spoke to her. His attention focused on her as it used to be focused on Alethea. But their conversation was whispered too. It did not feel as though it was her wedding day.

  Her wedding day…

  When she finished eating, she excused herself for a moment, only to be met in the hall by Davis who told her privately a package had arrived for her.

  A package?

  Her heartbeat raced again as she walked up the stairs. The package lay on the bed, awaiting her as she walked into the room. She ripped it open. “Oh.” Her dress. There was a letter. She pulled the paper open.

  Susan dear, I am sure you do not want to be married in the dress you left here in yesterday, so here is your pale grey evening dress and your evening gloves, it should not be too offensive with Henry in mourning, but at least it is pretty. I shall bring you a bonnet to match it too.

  Love, Mama.

  Tears filled Susan’s eyes and blurred her view of the gown decorated with fine white lace on the short sleeves, neckline and hem. The material was a pale shimmering grey, with shots of silver thread through it. It would feel much prettier than her dark blue day dress.

  She turned and crossed the room to ring for a maid to help her change and let Henry know she would not be able to see him again before she left. She did not wish him to see her in her wedding dress. She did not care that he might have seen her in it as an evening dress. All of a sudden the success of their marriage came down to the prettiness of her dress, and being able to hold on to one single tradition.

  All of Henry’s family respected her decision and so no one waited in the hall when her parents’ carriage arrived.

  She hurried down the stairs and out the door, which Davis held open, acknowledging him with a thank you.

  Her father held the carriage door open for her. She accepted his hand and climbed up.

  “Mama.” She smiled at her.

  “Susan.” Her mother hugged her when she sat down. “You look very pretty.” When Susan pulled away her mother reached over and picked up Susan’s bonnet. But it was not Susan’s it was one of Alethea’s with white ribbon and white roses.

  She looked at her mother.

  An understanding smile twisted her mother’s lips, and tears glittered in her eyes. “Alethea said you must have it. It is a perfect match for your dress. She wished you to feel beautiful on your wedding day even though she did not feel able to come and see you married.”

  Susan hugged her mother ag
ain, tears falling from her eyes.

  “That’s enough of that nonsense,” her father said when he sat down with a wry tone and a wryer smile.

  “It is your wedding day I will not have any weeping unless they are happy tears.”

  Susan nodded at him. At last it felt as though she was to be married.

  They drank tea in an inn near York Minster before it was time to walk about the green and go into the Minster for the service.

  Aunt Jane awaited them at the door.

  “Here she is,” Aunt Jane stated as though she had feared Susan would not arrive.

  But here she was, standing before the Minster, about to marry Henry…

  Her father had acquired her a small posy of pale pink chrysanthemums to carry, Susan clutched the flowers with both hands. Aunt Jane, her mother and the minister disappeared back into the Minster to tell Henry that she’d arrived.

  “Well then…” Her father lifted his elbow out towards her. “I did not imagine a week ago for one moment that this week I would be giving one of my daughters away, but I am not sorry for it. Henry is a good man despite all this, Susan. You will be happy I am sure. He will make sure you are, that I am certain of.”

  She looked at her father before they walked through the door into the Minster. “But Alethea…”

  “Will find another candidate for her affections. We are going to return to London tomorrow so she might enjoy the rest of her season and resume her search.”

  Susan flushed. Fear swept up, fear of being separated from her family.

  “Here.” He pushed open the door and they walked into the huge space of York Minster.

  In the pews at the far end of the aisle people stood up and looked back.

  “Oh.”

  Her father’s hand lay over hers as she held his forearm. The flowers trembled in her other hand. It was not only Henry’s father and mother with him, but his sisters and brothers, and his Uncle Edward, Aunt Ellen and cousin Rob and his wife Caro, and Harry…

  Uncle Edward and Harry must have stayed at Rob’s after the funeral.

  Henry stepped out of the pew and did not only look back but turned around to watch her, smiling, smiling whole heartedly as if he was not in mourning.

  She smiled back.