Page 25 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

Chapter Sixteen

ALICE

My heart thudded, my gaze darting between Jonathan and the innkeeper. I reflected on the last few sentences they had exchanged.

Had I misheard?

I was nearly certain that the innkeeper had said room and not rooms.

Hours in the carriage with Jonathan had already been tense enough.

I had practically thrown myself onto his lap, an incident which still burned through my mind with mortification.

How could I share a room with him? He had assured me that I would have my own at Southcliff Manor, but stopping at The Red Lion had not been part of our plan.

I felt a hint of heat creeping up the sides of my face—and I was fairly certain I could not blame the fireplace. The frequency at which I had been blushing throughout the day was unacceptable. Mr. Croft—or rather—Jonathan had a talent for causing such a response in me.

From his place across the table, Jonathan continued making arrangements with the innkeeper.

I studied his wet hair, dark brows, and the sharp angles of his jaw.

He had been growing more attractive by the hour, but also more vexing.

Since the very moment the vicar had pronounced him my husband, he had been vexing me.

From securing water and a fan when I was faint, to ensuring our horse’s safety, to declaring that he intended to honor me…

My heart fluttered. What was he trying to prove, and why? He had been clear that he never wanted me, but now he was acting as if he…enjoyed tolerating me—as if he looked forward to being amused by me for the rest of his life. I bit my lip. His behavior didn’t make sense. Not in the slightest.

I watched as the innkeeper handed a key to Jonathan and made his way back to the counter to serve another guest. I stared at the piece of metal in his hand with misgiving.

I hardly knew what to say. He had told me that this would not be an ordinary wedding night, and I certainly believed him.

But my face burned at the thought of sharing a room with him.

How could we go from being mere acquaintances, to enemies, to husband and wife, all in a matter of days?

I was not prepared.

“I’ll sleep in the carriage.” Jonathan’s voice cut through my thoughts. I tore my gaze away from the key in his hand.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I swallowed. I had burned my tongue on the mutton stew, and it still felt raw. “That would look very strange.”

Jonathan folded his arms, raising one doubtful eyebrow. “Perhaps the other travelers would understand. I imagine any wife might banish her husband to the carriages when she is cross with him.”

“I’m not cross with you,” I mumbled. “You have been oddly amiable today, actually.”

“Oddly?”

I released a huffed breath. I did not want to flatter him for behaving decently.

It was the least he could do as a gentleman and as a husband.

He did not deserve some great speech of praise.

To reward his amiable behavior would only encourage more, and I liked it better when we didn’t speak, or when he didn’t look at me with a smile dancing across his lips.

He was far too handsome, and it made me forget how angry he made me.

And how badly he had hurt me.

Now that I was his obligatory wife, I was not about to become a mere source of amusement.

He had been bored during our long ride in the carriage, I was sure of it.

That was the only reason he had spoken to me at all.

The moment we arrived at Southcliff Manor, there would be no need for us to interact so closely.

But tonight, it seemed we had no other choice.

“We will sort something out,” I said with finality, sealing my words with a large gulp of water.

I had never realized how much water I drank when I was nervous, but Jonathan had brought this strange new habit out in me.

He watched from across the table as I gulped down another sip.

Why was he smiling? It was unsettling after seeing so many of his harsh scowls.

I drained the last few drops of water with a little more decorum before setting down my cup.

Flickering shadows crossed over his features. In the firelight, his dark brown eyes looked like honey—but not nearly as sweet.

“What are you smiling at?” I snapped. I couldn’t help my curiosity.

He was silent for a moment, wiping the smile off his face with a thoughtful look. “Your obvious love of water. First the sea, then the rain. Now the contents of your tankard.”

Was he teasing me now? I couldn’t hide my confusion.

After telling me he would never have an attachment to me, accusing me of ensnaring him, and making no secret of the begrudging nature of his proposal, how did he expect me to respond to his change of attitude?

Until an apology fell from his lips, I refused to entertain him.

Of course, I hadn’t been pleasant toward him either, but I had always been the first to apologize to Charlotte. I would not do the same with him.

“There are worse things to love than water,” I said.

A crease formed near his mouth. “A fair point.”

“You live by the coast.” I interlocked my fingers atop the table. “Being master of a seaside estate demands a love of the water, does it not?”

“If it were my choice to be master of the estate, then yes.” He turned his gaze to the fire. “Being the only son was what demanded it, nothing more.”

My curiosity awakened again, stirring inside of me like a living thing. I told myself not to pry, but this estate was going to be my home. It was fair to ask questions. “Your sisters said you inherited the house three years ago?” I reached instinctively for my cup, but it was empty. Blast it.

Jonathan nodded. “I did.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t say another word. Instead, he slid his water tankard closer to me. “Take mine.”

I shook my head fast, embarrassed that he had noticed my impulse to gulp down more. There were other questions I still wanted to ask. I rehearsed the words in my mind. “Does your mother live with you…along with your sister, Margaret?”

His features flashed with surprise—perhaps because I had remembered her name. Unfortunately, I remembered all the details I had ever learned about Jonathan. He and everything associated with him stuck in my head like ink, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wash it out.

He looked down at the table, his brows lowering. That crease appeared between them. “No.”

“You live alone?”

He paused for a long moment. “Well, I certainly won’t now. You will be there.” He shifted his spoon in the empty bowl for no apparent reason.

I studied his face, searching for clues, but found nothing.

It would have been wise to pause my list of questions there, but my curiosity was only growing stronger by his strange reactions.

His answers were far too brief for my liking, but at least he was answering.

Perhaps he would continue. “Your sisters also mentioned that you had received an inheritance from your uncle,” I said.

“Was that quite unexpected? Do you have an intended use for it?” The words spilled out faster than I had intended.

Jonathan’s demeanor shifted, his frown deepening. His arms seemed to tighten over his chest. “Yes, the twenty thousand.” His jaw tensed. “I know you and Miss Lyons were made aware of that.”

My brow furrowed. Well, that didn’t answer any of my questions. “We were both made aware, but Charlotte is the one who took such a great interest in it.”

He laughed under his breath. “You cannot claim that you weren’t equally interested.”

I exhaled sharply, searching for any words of denial that he might believe.

My pride kept a firm grip on my tongue. How could I tell him that I had been interested in him, but for a completely different reason?

I could never confess to those feelings.

I would take them to my grave. I couldn’t imagine the mortification I would feel if Jonathan Croft realized that he had once been the object of my daydreams. Even now, with him staring across the table at me with his scowl, I worried he could read my mind.

I had been silent for too long. There was nothing I could say to convince him that I hadn’t been competing for his attention. I had, and he knew it.

Awkwardness hung between us for several seconds—so heavy that my bones seemed to creak under the weight of it.

I wanted to sink into my chair.

Like an angel from the heavens, Eliza stepped through the front doors of the inn, providing the perfect distraction.

Her dark hair was matted against her neck, her bonnet askew.

At the sight of her, I wondered how terrible I must have looked after such a long day of travel, rain, and mud. I didn’t even want to imagine.

After speaking with the innkeeper, Eliza bustled toward me with a curtsy. ‘I’m told yer room is prepared, ma’am.”

I jolted with surprise at her change of address. I was not a miss any longer.

And the room was not only mine. It was ours.

My gaze slid in Jonathan’s direction. I wasn’t certain how to proceed, but his expression was still marked with a scowl. Bringing up the subject of his fortune had been a mistake…one that I would be wise not to repeat.

He waited for me to stand before leading the way toward the stairs at the back of the parlor. The passage was narrow and smelled of mildew, each step creaking under my mud-crusted boots. Jonathan stopped at a door at the end of the corridor, fumbling with the key until the knob turned.

He stepped inside first. The room was small—scarcely large enough for the four-poster bed at the center. A rug lay in front of the hearth, where a small fire already burned, struggling against the damp air that seeped through the windowpanes.

I lingered in the doorway, my palms sweating. Besides the bed—the one and only bed—there was a washstand with a cracked porcelain basin, and a single chair near the fire. A pitcher of water had been set out as well.