Page 27 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

Chapter Seventeen

JONATHAN

All sensation was gone from my arm when I awoke.

I rolled over on the rug, using my left hand to pull my right arm out from under me.

My back ached as I struggled to sit up in the dim room.

The thin rug had done nothing to cushion the floorboards, but at least the fire had kept me warm.

I glanced over the bed at Alice, but all I could see was her hair strewn across the pillow.

She must have been sleeping deeply if she had missed the sounds of all the early-morning travelers departing from the courtyard outside the window.

I rarely slept that deeply. There was always something on my mind to prevent it—especially last night.

I moved silently to recover my boots near the washbasin.

I tugged them on, careful not to wake Alice with my movements.

In the silence, her breathing was steady and slow, a faint whistle of a snore on each inhale.

She was still asleep, tucked in the same position she had been all night—nearly fusing herself with the wall.

Her offer to share the bed with me had been tempting, especially since it was so spacious, but I doubted she would have actually been comfortable with the arrangement. And I doubted I would have been either.

As little sleep as I had on the floor, I would have had even less sharing the bed with Alice.

Being so close to her, sensing each of her movements beside me, I would have been far too distracted.

Even the image of her in that nightdress, with her hair hanging free around her face had been consuming far too many of my thoughts.

Picking up my jacket, I shook it out, half-expecting to find insects and spiders nesting in the folds. Luckily, all that I found was a little dust from the floor.

I took a deep breath, forcing my mind to relax.

I knew what I needed to do, and that was keep my distance from Alice from that point forward.

When she had asked about my fortune at dinner, it had served as a sharp reminder that she had never cared for me.

Her behavior had changed as soon as she learned of my wealth, and that should have been evidence enough that the feelings I was fighting would never be returned.

My chest felt tight as I eased out the door quietly, making my way down to the courtyard to check on the horses. There was no need to wake Alice so early, not when we were only an hour or two from Southcliff Manor.

I found the lame chestnut horse resting in the stables with all the others.

His stall was padded with plenty of straw, and his bad leg had been wrapped—presumably by one of the stablehands.

I rested my weight against the stall door, stroking my finger gently down the horse’s muzzle.

My mind was weary, my breathing fast as I tried to compose my nerves.

I had been managing my panic over the hasty marriage well until now, but the reality of the situation was swiftly catching up to me.

I had been anxious enough having Margaret, just one young woman under my care, and now there were two.

How could I ensure they were both comfortable and safe?

How could I keep their lives separate? It didn’t seem possible.

Margaret was not easily understood.

But then, neither was I.

I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

My heart ached, but I didn’t dare examine the reason.

The horse’s large brown eyes settled on my face.

If I could secure just a fraction of the care and sympathy Alice had for that creature, then I would be content.

The realization was jarring. Was I truly jealous of a blasted horse?

Why did I care for her affection anyway?

For all I knew, she was just as I suspected: A fortune hunter who could not be trusted.

I would remind myself of that daily…because the possibility that she was anything else was too dangerous to dwell on.

ALICE

The carriage swayed sharply, but this time I made sure to hold onto the squabs on the side of the carriage rather than Jonathan’s legs.

I would not make that same mistake again.

I looked out the window at the passing landscape.

It had changed as we turned off the main road, transforming from rolling hills and farmland to a seascape that reminded me of a calmer version of Brighton.

I had only been to one seaside town, but now I would live in one for the rest of my life.

It was still difficult to believe. The countryside tilted toward the coast, the fields sloping into cliffs covered in tufted grass and dirt.

My breath caught in my chest as I saw the sea, stretching endlessly in one direction, and lapping over pale sand in the other.

Much like in Brighton, seabirds circled overhead, attracted to the views just as I was.

The partial ruins of an ancient castle nestled on the edge of a cliff, suspended there as if it might crumble down to the sea at any moment.

I could only imagine the history that had taken place there, and the lives of the people who had awoken each morning with a view like this out their window.

The carriage continued along the winding path for several minutes, but then it took a sharp left. We traveled inland until we reached a wider road flanked with trees.

“Look out the other window.” Jonathan’s voice came from the bench across from me.

I followed his instruction, taking in the view through the glass.

A large house was nestled among the green foliage in the distance, the pale stone facade stark against the gathering clouds.

The symmetrical windows, pillars, and staircases gave the house a regal, stiff look.

The iron gates at the front made it look entirely unapproachable. Much like its master.

“What do you think of it?” Jonathan asked as the carriage slowed at the gates.

“It’s very…striking,” I said carefully. For all its grandeur, the house seemed lonely, isolated, as though the world had turned its back on it. Where were the neighbors? Hopefully there were a few families within a mile or two.

Jonathan’s eyes flicked to mine. “Is it not as grand as you had hoped?”

I didn’t miss the accusatory tone of his question. But since witnessing the shift of his mood the night before, I had decided not to entertain his suspicions, nor beg for his trust. “It is much grander than I expected, actually,” I said in a nonchalant voice.

I didn’t wait for his reply before turning my body toward the window.

The moment the carriage stopped, I inched closer to the door.

I was eager to escape the confines of my husband’s company.

I was a married woman now, so that meant I did not require a chaperone.

I was free to roam the grounds, the nearby village, the beach and the water with only Eliza as my companion.

There would no longer be any speculation, rules, or scandals.

The perfectly manicured grounds awaited me as the carriage door opened.

It was beautiful—all of it—but it didn’t feel like home.

My heart pounded fast, but my stomach sank with dread at the same time.

My thoughts wandered to my family, my friends, and all that I had left behind.

I stopped myself. I would be wise not to focus on the negative side of the matter.

I was fortunate indeed to be the mistress of such a lovely place.

Jonathan opened the door and handed me down the step.

The air smelled similar to Brighton, but cleaner, with hints of the same breeze that raced across the surface of the sea.

A thrill traveled across my skin as we approached the house, and I tried my hardest not to smile like a ninny.

Jonathan was already under the impression that I had been desperate to obtain his estate.

I could not allow him to see me admiring it.

We walked up the wide staircase to the front doors, which opened to reveal a vestibule.

The walls, decorated in seafoam green wallpaper, stretched high with golden-framed portraits.

I held back my delight at seeing the black and white checkered floors.

At least there was one thing that would remind me of my childhood home.

I smiled at each of the servants who stood at attention along the edges of the room.

They had clearly been expecting us—expecting me—this mysterious new mistress who they had likely already spent hours gossiping about.

It would be my objective to prove to them that I was a gracious mistress, and that they could rely on me to be kind and considerate.

I had observed my mother’s behavior from a young age, after all, and had looked forward to the day I could replicate it in my own house.

The footmen walked out to the carriage to fetch our trunks. The coach containing Eliza and the other servants who had accompanied us on our journey had just arrived behind us.

My hand rested lightly on Jonathan’s arm, but he stepped away to address the housekeeper.

Her cautious gaze swept toward me, and I saw it flick over my entire body—head to toe.

What had she gathered from her swift assessment?

I kept my posture straight, my smile pleasant, and eagerly awaited my tour of the house and introduction to all the servants. My foot tapped on the floor.

“There has been a change of plans,” Jonathan said in a low voice to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Croft would prefer to have a room in the north wing.”

The housekeeper’s thin brows arched, but she didn’t question him. “V-very well.” She jotted something down on the paper and board she held.

“She has her own lady’s maid, Eliza, who will be joining our staff.”

The housekeeper continued writing.

Jonathan waited until she lifted her pen. “And I will allow you to manage further instruction for my wife from here. I trust you received my letter?”

“I did, sir.”