Page 24 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

It was still difficult to believe that the former Miss Kellaway sitting across from me was my wife.

If I was to be entirely honest with myself, I had once entertained the idea of courting her.

In the back of my mind, after our conversation in the souvenir shop, I had wondered if we had a connection that could lead to an attachment.

I had hardly dared to dwell on the idea, but I couldn’t deny that it had existed.

Feelings for her had existed.

She had seemed so open, friendly, and kind. Now she was closed off and cold. Even the way she sat was stiff. I banished my thoughts and gave a quick nod. “Alice, it is. But then what shall I call you when I am laughing at you?”

She paused. “I would rather you not laugh at me, actually.”

I shook my head. “I cannot promise that. Even the first moment I met you, you did something amusing.”

Her lips twitched upward, seemingly against her will. She corrected her mouth into a straight line, but not before I noticed. Her eyes met mine from beneath her lashes, and the impact of her gaze sent a wave through my stomach.

I shifted my eyes away from hers. Reflecting on our first few meetings was not wise.

She looked down at her hands. “Well, then. I shall try to stop being amusing from now on.”

I leaned forward in my seat. “I would rather you not stop, actually.”

Alice met my gaze again, her eyes heavy.

My heart picked up speed, a reaction that I had neither expected, nor was comfortable with.

I took a deep breath, but it did little to steady me.

What was she thinking? I wished I could read her thoughts, but I was having trouble even understanding my own.

I must have been tired, because she was suddenly just as endearing as she had been the first day I had seen her on the beach.

Despite the circumstances that had led to our marriage, there was still something undeniably romantic about sharing a carriage at dusk with my new wife, enjoying a somewhat good-natured conversation.

A raindrop hit the window beside her, tugging her gaze away from mine. Within seconds, the light drizzle intensified into a heavy downpour. The sky darkened, grey clouds bleeding into the orange sunset.

“Drat,” Alice muttered.

Drat, indeed. The carriage slowed to a weak crawl, the wheels sinking into the mud. I had traveled in worse storms than this, but it would slow our pace considerably. The patter of the rain continued on the roof of the carriage, water racing down the windows.

“The poor horses,” Alice muttered.

I shot a glance in her direction. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

She nodded with a confused look, as if I were mad to consider anything else.

I tried not to find it endearing, but once again I failed.

I would have to train myself extensively to remember Alice’s faults.

She was competing for your fortune. She had plans to ensnare you.

The reminder would need to live in my mind constantly if I were to have any hope of disliking her.

The carriage continued to drag forward for several minutes before coming to an abrupt stop. A distressed whinny came from one of the horses, and Alice went rigid.

“What was that?” She craned her neck toward the window.

The worry in her features created an involuntary reaction within me. I stood swiftly, reaching for the door. I needed to resolve her worried expression at all costs. I had to.

The rain came down on my head, instantly soaking through my hair as I searched for the cause of our abrupt stop.

The coachman stood beside the team of horses, his back hunched over as rain dripped from every inch of his clothing.

I jumped down from the carriage, my boots sinking into the mud as I joined him beside a chestnut horse. “Is something amiss?”

The coachman jumped. He must not have heard my approach over the rain. “Sprained ‘is foot, this one. Got a limp.” He glanced up at me through the strands of wet hair hanging over his face.

The other horses stirred impatiently, their coats completely soaked as they awaited guidance. The lame horse whinnied again, snorting loudly as it shifted its weight.

“How soon can they be changed?” I asked.

“I can try to drive ‘em another mile to the posting inn. Might find fresh ‘orses there.”

I nodded, my own concern rising. At the moment, the horse seemed to be in a great deal of pain. If he could limp his way another mile, then he would be free to be sheltered, fed, and rested. It seemed to be the only option.

“Is he all right?” Alice’s voice made me jump, and suddenly I understood the coachman’s startled reaction to my approach.

I pivoted to face her. She stood directly behind me, hair and gown soaked through, much like they had been when she had gone for that untimely swim. “Devil take it.” I sighed.

“What?” she snapped.

“Why did you leave the carriage?”

She glared up at me. “It may surprise you, but I like the rain.”

“You seem to like water a little too much in general.” I raked a hand over my hair. Thankfully, the heaviest phase of the downpour seemed to be over. The rain had lessened to a steady drizzle, yet the damage had already been done.

Alice ignored me. Her arm brushed roughly against mine as she marched through the mud to place a hand on the horse’s neck. The creature startled a little at her touch, but then relaxed. She whispered something gentle in its ear, a stark contrast to how she had just addressed me.

She turned to the coachman. “He seems to be in a great deal of pain. Surely he cannot carry us any further.”

“He must, ma’am. The posting inn’s still a mile down the road.”

Alice shook her head, a scowl on her brow. “There must be a farm wagon or dray that might be sent to convey him to the posting inn. He cannot be expected to pull the carriage with such an injury.”

The coachman paused for a long moment. “Could take hours, ma’am. I’d not recommend it.”

I stepped up beside her, placing a hand beside hers on the horse’s smooth coat.

She saw my hand first, then glanced up at my face.

I had intended to agree with the coachman, but the moment her eyes met mine, very different words spilled out.

“We shall wait here with the horse until a rescue is arranged for him.”

The fading sunlight caught Alice’s eyes, and I saw a flicker of surprise cross them.

The coachman’s surprise was less masked than hers. “We can leave ‘im with the others for now, sir.” He nodded to the chaise behind us on the road, which contained Alice’s maid, my valet, and stablehand. “If we take one of their ‘orses, you can be on yer way.”

I studied Alice’s profile. “Is that suitable?”

She stroked the horse gently, giving a brief nod. “I trust that Eliza will look after him properly.”

“Are you certain?” I asked. “She hasn’t proven very effective at the task in the past.”

Alice shot me a scowl. She must have known that I was referring to her swim, and how her maid had stood helplessly on the shore the entire time.

The coachman scowled in concentration as he set to work unharnessing the lame horse.

My stablehand met the coachman beside their team of horses, unharnessing one to replace the injured horse that Alice was still coddling.

It was easy to imagine her perusing the stables at Southcliff Manor, feeding sugar to all my horses and spoiling them with daily brushes and rides.

Despite our differences, I did want her to be happy there. Content at the very least.

When the horses were changed and the poor hobbling one was resting safely with Eliza, I helped Alice back into the carriage. The hem of her white gown was coated in mud, as well as her shoes. My boots were not much better. The rain had stopped, but we were both still soaked through.

“Do you think he’ll really send for a wagon?” Alice asked in a skeptical voice. Water dripped from her hairline. She quickly wiped it away.

I must have looked equally sodden. I pushed my hair back from my forehead with a smile. “If he doesn’t, we shall seek justice for the poor horse ourselves.”

A small crack formed in her facade—another flicker of a smile.

The carriage swayed sharply as it moved through a thick patch of mud. Alice lurched forward, catching herself with a firm grip just above both my knees. Her hands snapped back instantly. “Sorry!”

She fell back into her seat and crossed her arms, as if it would prevent a similar incident from happening again.

Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

Her touch was so sudden, and gone so quickly, yet I found myself thinking of it for the whole of ten minutes as the carriage slogged onward toward the posting inn.

The sun had disappeared, leaving a faint glow in the sky as the storm clouds faded.

With our staff still waiting with the lame horse, there wouldn’t be a point in continuing the journey to Southcliff Manor immediately.

A warm meal, a fire, and a few minutes out of the carriage would do us both good.

The inn was small, but looked inviting enough, candlelight spilling from the square windows.

A wooden sign hung on iron hooks above the door.

The Red Lion. I held the door for Alice as she passed, dragging mud across the faded entryway rug.

I released the heavy oak door, and it closed with a shocking jolt behind us.

The inn smelled strongly of ale…as well as something damp and unpleasant.

Hopefully the scent wasn’t coming from me.

I cast my gaze around the crowded parlor.

It seemed that we hadn’t been the only travelers caught in the storm.

Men and women in similarly damp clothing surrounded the fire in the open hearth, eating and conversing.

Behind the nearby counter, a stout man with thinning hair—I assumed he was the innkeeper—looked in our direction.

His eyes flicked across my coat, then Alice’s gown, likely assessing our rank.

“Good evening, sir, ma’am.” He gave a knowing smile. “Caught out in the storm, have ye? Not to worry. The Red Lion’ll see ye comfortable.” His gaze lingered a moment too long on Alice’s wedding gown “We’ve a warm welcome for newly married guests such as yourselves.”

Alice’s back stiffened. I couldn’t deny his observations. We were indeed newly married, and arriving together under any other circumstances would have been wildly improper.

The innkeeper bustled out from behind the counter. “This way, sir, ma’am. We’ll see ye to the fire and fetch up a hot meal. Our mutton stew is hearty enough to drive the damp right out of your bones.”

He ushered us toward a small table near the hearth. Alice settled into the chair across from mine, her posture straight as she looked at everything but me. She was likely still fretting about the horse out in the rain, or perhaps the knowing glint in the innkeeper’s gaze about our wedding clothes.

After a few minutes, the man returned with steaming bowls of stew, bread, and a tankard of ale.

We ate in silence again, listening to the conversations around us.

Alice stared at the fire, giving me the freedom to glance at her periodically as the heat wicked the moisture away from her hair and skin.

When our bowls were empty, the innkeeper returned, rubbing his hands on a flour-dusted apron.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” he said. “But the storm’s filled the yard. Not a horse to be had till morning. Every stagecoachman and carter that came before ye took what could be spared.”

I leaned back in my chair, exchanging a glance with Alice. “Our staff is on their way with a team of horses. Perhaps after they’ve rested—” I paused, remembering the most vital detail. One of them was unable to walk. “Never mind.”

I studied the man’s expression for any signs of deceit.

Seeing as he had observed our attire, he must have recognized our status.

Knowing we could afford it, he could have been lying in order to fetch an overnight payment for our rooms. He did seem genuine though…

and the thought of riding for another few hours in muddy clothing didn’t sound pleasant.

“What do you have available for chambers?” I asked.

“We’ve but the one left. A quaint little room, sir, but it’ll serve ye and your lady well enough.”

Alice’s hand froze as she lifted her cup.

I caught her gaze behind it. As mortified as she looked, we were left with little choice in the matter. I cleared my throat, giving a quick nod. “We’ll take it.”