Chapter Six

      An odd atmosphere arrived in the carriage with the Forths, Henry could sense it even as he looked down into the hall. Uncle Casper’s shoulders were stiff and Aunt Julie’s manner was much more restrained than normal; she far too calmly kissed his mother’s cheek.

      Henry walked down the last flight of stairs to the hall as Alethea entered.

      She was wearing a light bright blue again so that the material of her evening dress extenuated the colour of her eyes. Susan entered behind her sister, wrapped up in a large paisley shawl, but he could see the hem of her dress. It was a pale, dove grey.

      He’d dressed fully for dinner, as the Forths were officially invited guests rather than arriving simply as callers, and so he had his grey waistcoat and black evening coat on over his shirt. His arm was still strung up in a sling, though. Yet it had been less painful to dress, and it was not agony to be clothed now the swelling had declined to some extent.

      What remained of the pain, as long he did not make any sudden movements, was a dull constant ache in his shoulder, a soreness in his wrist and stiffness in both. The rest of him was healing quite nicely.

      Papa’s valet, who had been shaving Henry since he’d come home, was now urging Henry to exercise his bad arm, but Henry had refused to attempt it for another week at least; he did not wish to send it into agony again.

      “Uncle Casper.” Henry bowed in a swift informal movement. Even though there was no relationship via bloodlines he’d always felt as though Lord and Lady Froth were his uncle and aunt—and Alethea like another of his cousins—and truly that was the level of his affection for her.

      He swallowed trying to moisten his dry mouth suddenly, as Uncle Casper’s lips lifted in a stiff smile. Definitely there was an unusual atmosphere.

      Henry glanced at Alethea as his father came to welcome Uncle Casper more heartily.

      He liked her considerably. She was amusing company, funny and entertaining, and she was polite and genteel; she would make the perfect countess when he inherited his father’s title. She was good with people, confident and jolly. He knew full well she would manage a house admirably. She had all the qualities of a wife.

      But he was not ready to marry. He was too young. Yet he could feel the nets being set about him.

      Four times this week she had hinted at the fact she was not going to wait forever for him to ask and Uncle Casper’s gaze stated that nor did he wish Alethea to have to keep waiting. They were becoming impatient with him.

      Well let them. He would not be forced. His father may call such an attitude careless. Henry would call it wise.

      “Good evening, Henry. I trust you are feeling better?”

      Henry turned to face Aunt Julie. “I am, thank you.”

      She gave him a look which seemed anxious, before touching his shoulders and lifting to her toes to better reach to kiss his cheek. On a normal evening, in the past, her arms would have wrapped around his neck and her exclamation would have been, “my darling boy!” before she pressed a kiss on his cheek. She had no sons, so Aunt Julie had treated him as though he was her son since his birth. But perhaps her calmness was out of awareness for his injuries.

      “It is good to see you again,” he said, before kissing her cheek in return.

      A very abnormal half-hearted smile stirred her lips.

      They had hoped he would announce his and Alethea’s engagement tonight. That was it. They had received the invitation to dine and misconstrued its meaning.

      Damn it, Alethea must have been waiting for him to ask all bloody week and now she had told them he’d said nothing.

      “You are looking very well despite your accident.”

      “Thank you, Aunt.”

      She was definitely restrained—unhappy with him.

      He looked at Alethea. She smiled at him, but even her smile was not quite so full.

      There had been a conversation about him in the carriage, he’d lay a bet on it. One that had berated his lack of a proposal. But he would not be bloody pushed into it. He would propose when he was ready to be settled, not before.

      Yet he was not immune to a sense of guilt.

      He turned to face her, as she came to him, holding out her hands. He took hold of them, then kissed the back of them in turn, before leaning forward and kissing her cheek. “Hello, you look very beautiful,” he whispered towards her ear before he straightened.

      She blushed, and smiled more naturally. “Hello.”

      He smiled too, looking into her very blue eyes, then let her hands slip from his and turned to greet Susan.

      He did not normally greet her in anyway, they were too close for formal greetings, and they had no other reason to greet each other with any special welcome. But tonight… He had welcomed her parents having not seen them for months and it would seem odd after that not to say a particular good evening to Susan too.

      “Susan.” She blushed, not deeply, but there were very definite roses blooming in her cheeks. She had been blushing every time she saw him since their long conversation in the library, or rather since her visit to his room.

      She did not offer her hand. He took it from where it hovered by her waist anyway, and kissed the back of her fingers. Her hand trembled and her grey eyes looked directly into his for a moment before she looked at his fingers holding hers.

      She was a funny anomaly.

      He let her go, then turned his attention back to Alethea, and offered his arm.

      His family and the Forths turned towards the drawing room.

      “We shall have a glass of wine before we go through to dinner, Casper, Julie.”

      Henry wondered if his father had picked up upon the atmosphere and read it correctly too. If so then Henry would be in for a lecture after they had left.

      “You are fully dressed…” Alethea whispered.

      “I could hardly dine with your parents in my shirt.”

      “They would not have minded.”

      “I would have felt a fool, and I think I might have made them feel foolish too.” Sarah had taken charge of Susan and was walking with her. Christine walked beside Aunt Julie, with Henry’s mother, while his father spoke with Uncle Casper. “Were they expecting me to announce our engagement tonight?” He’d learned as young as his boarding school years that it was always better to be direct when dealing with an awkward situation, otherwise awkward situations festered.

      She blushed a deep crimson, much darker than the colour Susan had been turning for the last couple of days. Yes, then.

      “Yes. I am sorry—”

      “You have no need to be sorry. But I am not going to propose to you while I am home. I’m not ready to settle yet, I am young, Alethea, it is too soon, and I will not apologise for it.” He’d slowed his pace, so that the others walked on ahead, then he stopped and faced her. “I am sorry if that distresses you. I know you will make a good wife but I will not commit until I know I would make a good husband and I think that will be when I am older.”

      She looked into his eyes—searching for answers—perhaps to understand his feelings. What were hers?