Page 22 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

When we finished, the vicar stepped back, lifting his voice as he pronounced us husband and wife.

My head felt light, as if it might float away at any moment. I wiggled my toes inside my slippers, trying to anchor myself to reality. This was indeed my wedding. I glanced up at Mr. Croft’s stoic expression, dark brows level over his serious eyes.

This was indeed my husband.

The vicar continued to speak, giving his blessing, well wishes, and advice, but it was all I could do not to faint. My legs shook beneath me as the congregation rose, benches creaking. Mr. Croft turned from the altar first, and then I saw his arm extend toward me.

I met his gaze, a mixture of panic and unease spreading through my stomach. I took his arm anyway, allowing him to lead me down the aisle between the pews.

The hush of our families and other gossipmongers from town transformed into a rustle of skirts and a few low whispers. Usually, congratulations would be in order, but there was nothing in my expression or Mr. Croft’s that would suggest we were inclined to celebrate.

I realized how tightly I gripped his arm, softening my hold as we walked. Still, the guests each stopped to offer their well-wishes on our way out of the church, following us out into the churchyard. I squinted against the sudden sunlight. At least the sea air was refreshing against my damp skin.

I glanced up at Mr. Croft—my husband—Jonathan. I had no idea what to call him in my mind, only that Mr. Croft sounded far too formal now.

We were tied together for the rest of our lives.

My stomach twisted at the thought, and my head grew light again.

I wavered slightly on my feet. “It was unbearably hot in there,” I said in an attempt to banish the awkwardness between us.

“I feel a bit faint.” It wasn’t a lie. The churchyard had begun to spin, old tombstones streaking past the edges of my vision.

Jonathan looked down at me, the sharp angles of his face more prominent in the sunlight. I expected him to make a snide remark, but instead his brow furrowed. “Do you need a fan? Water?”

My fingers twitched on his arm, and I shook my head. “No—I-I should be all right for now.”

He made a sound, just a swift grunt, before turning his attention back to doors of the church.

I stared up at the corner of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, studying each feature.

My vision blurred slightly, and I felt myself tipping more to one side.

I steadied myself on his arm, shaking my head in an effort to clear it.

Blackness crept into the corners of my eyes.

An arm slipped around my back, and then I heard Jonathan’s voice. “Does anyone have water?”

I blinked fast, and seconds later, there was a leather flask at my lips.

Owen’s face came into view, and despite his usual teasing, he looked quite serious as he assessed me.

He was a physician, which explained why he would have had the instinct to rush to my aid.

The arm around my back was not his, however. It was my husband’s.

“May I borrow that?” Jonathan’s voice came close to my ear as he held me steady, and I felt the rustle of his breath. Borrow what? I couldn’t see what he was doing or who he was addressing.

I swallowed the water that streamed into my mouth, coughing as it trickled against my throat.

My senses sharpened, and I realized that my feet were barely touching the ground.

I scrambled to secure my footing, my vision clearing at the same moment Jonathan raised a fan toward my face.

He moved it rapidly, sending a cool breeze toward my skin.

Gripping his arm, I breathed deeply, closing my eyes until my head felt secure on my body again.

Blast Eliza and my tight stays. They must have been the cause of this.

Fainting was not a common event for me—but then, neither was obtaining an unexpected husband.

I opened my eyes, my gaze settling on Jonathan’s face.

His brow, knit together with concern, unfolded a bloom of confusion within me.

I didn’t mean to, but I scowled up at him.

Was he actually worried about me? The breeze from the green lace fan was already cooling my body, but my mind still spun.

I felt his hand around the curve of my waist.

Owen instructed me to drink more water, so I obeyed. A trickle escaped the corner of my mouth, and a fleeting image of Jonathan wiping it away entered my mind. If that happened, I would know I was imagining things.

His face came into view again.

I craned my neck to look up at him. “I never faint.” My voice was weak.

He continued waving the green fan. “Then this is a new experience for both of us. I never use a fan.”

“Then why did you buy one at the souvenir shop?” I mumbled.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, but before he could respond, Mama appeared at my other side, looping both hands around my arm. “Alice, are you unwell?”

I evaluated each of my senses one at a time.

I could clearly see Mama’s auburn curls and worried blue eyes.

I could hear the voices of all the wedding guests in the churchyard around us, and the church bells as they tolled slowly.

I smelled the sea. I felt the sunlight, the breeze from the fan, and I assessed that each of my limbs was in working order.

But mostly, I could feel Jonathan’s hand on my waist, and even his gaze burning against my cheek.

After all that had been said between us, did he truly have the audacity to be a caring husband?

Surely he was only doting on me because we were in public.

“I feel much better now,” I said. Even my voice sounded clearer to my own ears.

Jonathan continued to fan my face, but now that I was aware of my surroundings again, the embarrassment of the situation struck me hard.

Besides the guests who had attended the ceremony, there were a number of people who had gathered to see our exit.

The gossip of our hasty marriage had spread through the papers that morning—and by word of mouth, to be sure.

A pair of ladies beyond the lychgate whispered behind their hands, craning their necks to catch sight of the source of Brighton’s most recent scandal.

I deciphered a few occasional mutters from the onlookers.

“She looks quite pale. Poor thing.”

“But she is quite lucky that he made the offer when he did.”

Jonathan’s jaw tensed as he cast his gaze across the tombstones and the strangers who had gathered on the grass around them. “I would rather not linger here.” His voice was low, just loud enough for me to hear.

I didn’t have to voice my agreement. My muslin skirts brushed the grass as I descended the path on his arm. A carriage stood ready, the Croft family crest gleaming on the door. My family crest. I didn’t have time to dwell on how strange that was.

I took Jonathan’s hand as I stepped into the carriage, eager to escape the whispers and prying gazes.

He joined me inside in one swift motion, closing the door behind him with a heavy thud.

He sank into the seat across from me, leaning his head back.

He was nearly too tall to fit under the low roof, his long legs causing his knees to hover just an inch from mine.

Several seconds passed before the driver set off down the street.

I waved at my family from the window, feigning a smile until my cheeks ached from the effort. My heart stung, but I knew I would see them again. Hopefully soon.

I watched the church until it disappeared from sight out the back window. The sound of the bells had faded, drowned out by the creaking of the carriage as it moved over the unsteady ground.

With a deep breath, I turned around, settling into the cushions.

Jonathan was still looking out his window.

Several seconds passed, and silence consumed the whole of the small space.

I searched for something to say—anything, but my mind was blank.

I had never been in this situation before.

I had been trained in a great deal of subjects in my youth, but never what to say to a man who married me out of obligation.

Perhaps governesses should begin adding that to their lesson plans.

I felt desperate for someone to instruct me, but my governess was not here. Neither was my mother, or any of my family.

For the first time, I was entirely alone with my new husband.