Page 29 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

Chapter Eighteen

ALICE

Time was a strange thing. Sometimes it crawled by slowly, and other times it passed in the blink of an eye.

My first ten days at Southcliff Manor crawled like a snail on a gravel road.

Never before had ten days been so long, or so lonely.

I had spent much of my time writing letters to Mama and Papa, Edmund, Owen, Annette, and even Charlotte.

I had even grown bored enough to write a letter to my youngest brother, Simon, at Oxford.

I doubted he would reply, but if he did, I would devour every word.

The letters broke up the long days, giving me something to look forward to.

The more of them I wrote, the more I would eventually receive.

Besides penning a ridiculous number of letters, I had started writing a novel.

I had never imagined myself doing such a thing, but there was no better time than now.

I had also collected an absurd number of seashells, completed several sketches and paintings, and taken walks for hours on the beach with Eliza.

But the highlight of each day was my morning ride.

I had found my favorite and most compatible horse from among the options in the stables—a gentle, yet daring mare named Betsy.

I had already explored the entire acreage on her back, discovering several hidden places to quietly sketch and paint without worrying about crossing paths with Jonathan.

I took my meals in the dining room, but he was never there. I had begun dreading coming downstairs for dinner only to find a single setting at the table. On rare occasions, we crossed paths on the staircase, but the extent of his greeting was a short and formal, ‘how are you?’ or ‘good day.’

Each morning, only once I had returned from my daily ride, I watched from my window as Jonathan made his way to the stables to saddle his horse.

His excessive avoidance of me had unveiled far too many emotions that I hadn’t known existed in my heart.

When I had insisted that we live separate lives within the same house, I hadn’t meant this separate.

I had imagined that we might have separate rooms, but that we would dine together and share the occasional conversation. At first, his behavior had made me sad.

Then it began to vex me.

And now that my first ten days were through, raw anger pulsed inside my chest. What vexed me the most was that he still thought that I had wanted this marriage. He still thought that I had concocted this plan to secure him, and that I had never dreamed of love.

He could not have been more wrong.

I had dreamed of love, and I still did. I had sacrificed so much, all because of one reckless swim.

I had begun to hope that perhaps Jonathan and I could forgive one another.

I had felt a connection between us multiple times in Brighton.

Had I imagined all of it? Or was it possible to discover it again?

The disheartening realization had occurred to me over the past ten days that I had never kissed a man.

And if our marriage continued like this forever, I never would.

How could I live my entire life without being kissed?

These were secret thoughts I hadn’t revealed to anyone—especially not Eliza.

She seemed to be growing weary of my constant prattle. But she was the only one who would listen, and I no longer cared about what gossip she relayed to the other members of the staff.

“I passed him on the staircase today,” I said as she brushed through a large knot in my hair.

“Did ‘e speak to you?”

“All he said was, ‘good afternoon.’” I rolled my eyes. “Every time he looks at me, his eyebrows pull together like this.” I formed my face into an exaggerated scowl in the mirror.

Eliza laughed, but quickly corrected her smile.

“And then he flees from my presence as if I might attempt to rob him of every penny he owns! He still believes that I ensnared him. I just know it.”

“Ye might deny it again?”

“Surely he wouldn’t listen.” I shook my head. “I cannot even capture his attention for long enough to say a full sentence to him.”

“Have ye tried capturing ‘is attention?” Eliza raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Ye seem rather skittish around ‘im yerself.” She began braiding my hair, but I turned abruptly in my chair.

She released a huffed breath as the braid unraveled.

“Sorry.” My mind raced with an idea. “He does seem rather protective of me. He is always sending servants to ensure I am well—that I’m eating, drinking, and being tended to.”

Eliza nodded slowly, a hint of dread in her gaze. “Yer not thinking to do something dangerous again?”

I bit my lip. “I have been rather curious about the south wing. I was told it was burned in a fire, and that the structure is no longer sound, but I have noticed servants passing through the door that leads to it. I have even noticed Jonathan passing through.”

Eliza’s gaze lowered to the floor.

I gasped. “You know something!”

“Nothin’ I’m permitted to say.” She tried to pick up my hair again, but I jerked my head away.

“Is there some sort of secret hidden in the south wing?” I gasped as Eliza’s expression betrayed her. “I cannot believe that I simply accepted the explanation about the fire! It seemed quite reasonable at the time.” My heart thudded. “I think I know how I might capture my husband’s attention.”

“No. I know what yer thinkin.’” Eliza shook her head fast. She had grown far too comfortable with me during the past ten days. Before coming to Southcliff Manor, she had already had a weakness for speaking her mind. Now it was nothing short of a habit.

“Is it actually dangerous?” I asked.

She fell silent.

A frustrated sigh bubbled up in my chest, but I didn’t let it escape. Even Eliza had to listen to what Jonathan told her. He was her employer, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Never mind, then,” I said. “I shall retire my curiosity on the subject.” I held still, allowing Eliza to braid my hair in calm silence. I couldn’t have her thinking that I was devising a plan in my head.

She gave me a suspicious look in the mirror but finished my braid without any further conversation.

And then she left me there in my bedchamber with a candle and pot of tea.

Shadows flickered off the walls—and off the sly look I gave myself in the mirror.

“I am going to discover what he’s hiding in the south wing,” I said aloud.

I had grown far too comfortable with my own company.

Conversing with myself would become a very strange habit if I didn’t manage to convince my husband to remember that I existed.

I wasn’t asking that he consider me a friend, or a wife in the traditional sense of the word.

All I wanted was to have one polite acquaintance.

If Jonathan caught me sneaking around the south wing, he might wish to start a fight or argument.

I wanted that. It was better than no conversation at all.

My heart thudded as I stood from my vanity chair.

I threw a spencer jacket over my white nightdress for a little more modesty, taking a quick glance at the full-length mirror near my bed.

It would have to suffice. At this hour of the night, I suspected that Jonathan would be in his study, reading ledgers or whatever it was he did for hours behind that door.

Perhaps he would be drinking an evening glass of brandy, reading a book, or even smoking a pipe.

In truth, I hadn’t the slightest idea of what he did while he was busy avoiding me, so all I could do was guess.

Taking my candle from the nightstand, I made my way out to the corridor. My north wing connected to the main area of the house in one long corridor with a door at the end.

The south wing was identical, though I had never seen what was behind the door.

But first, I needed to make Jonathan suspicious.

I paused near the staircase, peeking down over the railing.

In the vestibule below, two footman and a maid still lingered.

It was not late enough for the servants to have retired for the evening, and neither was it late enough for Jonathan to retire.

He was awake somewhere, and all his loyal servants would be sure to inform him if I was up to any mischief. Good, because I most certainly was.

With one hand on the banister, I made my elegant descent of the staircase, drawing the attention of the three servants down below.

The study was on the ground floor, just around the corner.

A light flickered from beneath the door.

Using the lofty ceiling and marble floors of the vestibule to my advantage, each of my words would be sure to echo toward Jonathan’s ears.

“I have been quite curious about something,” I said in a loud voice as my feet touched the black and white checkered floor. The maid glanced in my direction. She didn’t seem certain that I was addressing her, but she gave a quick curtsy anyway, tucking the feather duster she held behind her skirts.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Why have repairs not been made on the south wing?” I asked. “It seems wasteful to leave such a large section of the house damaged. I should like to take a look and determine if restoring it seems possible.”

The maid blanched, just as I had expected. She exchanged a glance with the nearest footman, whose eyes widened beneath the white curls of his wig.

“Will you give me a brief tour?” I asked.

“I-I’m afraid we cannot, ma’am.” The footman cleared his throat. “I trust you have been informed of the master’s request—”

“Very well.” I waved a hand through the air with a smile. “I shall go explore it myself.” I didn’t waste a moment before starting toward the staircase. I made it to the top before I heard the study door open from the floor below.

My heart pounded.