Page 33 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

Chapter Twenty

ALICE

Margaret’s trail of tiny seashells snaked its way from one wall to the other, dividing her bed from the rest of the room. Since both wings of the house were identical in structure, Margaret’s room here in the south wing was the same size and shape as mine in the north.

The furnishings, however, were quite different.

Margaret’s walls were covered in yellow-gold paper.

Various paintings and drawings hung in frames, with some papers simply stuck to the walls.

Her desk was covered in shells of all shapes and sizes, as well as the surface of another sideboard against the opposite wall.

Crafting supplies, ribbons, children’s books, dolls, and large encyclopedias were scattered around the room on shelves or tucked near the fireplace.

A sense of betrayal pinched my heart. Why had Jonathan been so determined to keep this secret from me?

How long had poor Margaret been confined here in the south wing?

She seemed content being alone with her shells and crafts.

But just because someone was content being alone did not mean they should be.

I had never met a young woman like Margaret.

I had heard of individuals who struggled with differences in manners and conduct—things that could not be changed through instruction.

Social training had likely been implemented in Margaret’s life from a young age, yet she had not taken to it.

She looked to be sixteen or seventeen, but she would never have the chance to come out in society.

My heart ached as I wondered how very different her life had been from my own.

I had a great deal of questions for Jonathan, but I doubted he would be willing to answer all of them. I watched him from my chair as he crossed the room to Margaret’s side. I found myself envious of the softness in his gaze and voice as he addressed her.

He had never looked at me with such tender care. I doubted he ever would.

My mind traveled back to the place I had forbidden it to go—to the night before, just outside the south wing. My skin flushed, and I tore my gaze from his face. I hadn’t forgotten the gruffness and finality of his voice just before he had walked away from me. There. You have your first kiss.

I had been reflecting on every detail of that interaction, playing it over and over in my mind. The pressure of his lips, his hands in my hair, the sudden passion in his eyes. One particular part had refused to stop pestering me.

He had used the word first.

He hadn’t said only kiss. Or last kiss.

Perhaps I was dissecting the phrase excessively, but it almost seemed as if there was a small chance that there could be another one.

I stopped myself from speculating too much on the subject.

At the moment, I wanted to be frustrated with him.

How long had he planned to keep Margaret’s position in the house a secret?

Why was he so determined not to trust me?

At least he had introduced me to her today.

It felt like a small step forward. A spark of hope entered my chest.

After spending a few more minutes with Margaret, Jonathan led me out of the room, leaving his sister to finish arranging her line of shells.

I wanted to ask what the purpose was in the activity, but perhaps Jonathan didn’t even know.

Margaret’s mind didn’t work the same way his or mine did.

She was unique and special—I knew that much already.

Could it be true that Jonathan had collected all of those shells for her? My heart skipped with admiration.

“Why on earth have you been hiding her from me?” My question broke the silence as we walked down the corridor.

Jonathan’s pace slowed. He held his breath for a moment before releasing a sharp exhale. “It’s my duty to protect my sister from harm, and that includes the judgment of society.”

I stopped walking, frowning up at him. “I am not society. I’m her sister-in-law.”

He froze, as if he had never considered that before. “Her own sisters are often ashamed of her, though they would never confess to it. I didn’t think you would be different.”

My heart stung. Our world was quite cruel toward anyone whose manners were not deemed proper enough.

The reputation of a family depended on its connections, the success of the children, and their social graces.

Penelope and Joanna might have kept their distance in order to protect their reputations.

A deep sense of sorrow trickled through my heart.

“I want to be different. I’m sorry you think so badly of me. ”

“I didn’t—I don’t…” his words trailed off, and then his eyes met mine, his voice low and gruff. “You surprised me today. It requires a generous heart to overlook Margaret’s differences.”

A frown pulled on my eyebrows. “I have no wish to overlook them. I find her delightful just as she is.”

His gaze traced over my face, and I felt suddenly quite vulnerable under his scrutiny. Did he still doubt me? It wouldn’t come as a shock. He always doubted me.

I looked down at the floor, my face a little warmer than usual. This corridor—this very one—was where he had kissed me the night before. I didn’t dare acknowledge it. Ever. I started walking again, eager to leave that section behind. “Is Margaret the reason you decline social calls?” I asked.

Jonathan gave a somber nod. “The neighbors who are aware of her presence in the house tend to avoid a connection with our family. My parents spent years attempting to erase her from their lives. They never spoke of her. They pretended that she didn’t exist.” His jaw tightened.

“In public, they declared that they had three children, never four.”

“How awful.”

“Yes.” He swallowed, meeting my gaze. “Our own mother abandoned Margaret to my care as soon as our father died. She moved to London and remarried. She writes letters on occasion, but that is the extent of it.”

My heart sank. “How can she be so cruel?”

“I have asked myself that question many times.” Jonathan’s eyes looked heavy—sadder than I had ever seen them.

“I hardly knew how to manage an estate. I knew even less about how to properly care for my sister.” He paused, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features.

“After my uncle learned of my mother’s actions, he took pity on Margaret’s situation.

That was when he offered me his fortune.

Its intended use has always been to give Margaret the comforts and luxuries she deserves.

My plans are to continue making improvements and additions to the south wing, as well as hire any additional servants and instructors she may need. ”

I listened carefully, my heart in my throat.

Was this why he had been so protective over his inheritance?

I wished I knew how to make him believe that I had never desired that money.

But he knew the way I had acted; how shameless I had been in my competition with Charlotte.

There was nothing I could say to convince him.

His trust could not be earned by begging. All I could do was try to show him.

“I assume Margaret has use of all the rooms in the south wing?”

Jonathan nodded. “Yes, but some of them are still bare. She does have a music room, though she doesn’t play any of the instruments. She is very fond of music, though.”

“Does she ever venture to other parts of the house?”

“Yes, but not often. She takes most of her meals in the south wing, but on certain days I can convince her to eat in the dining room.”

“Does she spend time out of doors? If she loves shells, she must love the sea. The air would surely do her good.”

Jonathan hesitated. “I coax her outside for walks within the property lines on occasion, but she must be watched at all times. She has a tendency to wander.”

“I see.” I bit my lip, glancing up at his face. “But she never sees any other areas of town?”

He fell silent for several seconds. “No. But you must understand—I don’t hide her because I’m ashamed of her.

I hide her because I have seen all the ways she has been misunderstood.

I would rather she remain here, safe and happy, than be judged.

And she is happy. So long as she has her shells. ” A faint smile touched his lips.

I lifted my index finger. “And her red jam.”

A light chuckle escaped him as we made our way down the staircase. I nearly skipped a step, surprised to hear the sound. “Red jam is essential to anyone’s happiness, I think.” He turned his gaze to me, a smile still lingering on his lips.

“What else does she like?” I asked, unable to stop my curiosity. “And what does she dislike?”

His eyebrows twitched upward with surprise of his own. “You have many questions today.”

I shrugged. “I have no wish to misunderstand Margaret. I want to know all that I can about her.”

His eyes softened. His steps slowed as we descended the staircase side by side.

“She is particular about nearly everything,” he began.

“She likes animals—especially frogs and reptiles—and views the same books and drawings of them on a daily basis. She enjoys dancing and music and has a keen memory for the steps. She refuses to have anything in her hair or on her head, so hair arrangements and bonnets are out of the question. She also enjoys painting.”

I smiled, stopping on the final step. “Surely she’s a better artist than you.”

Jonathan’s foot barely touched the vestibule floor before he pivoted toward me, one hand still on the banister. “You still doubt me?”

“I still require evidence.”

A smile spread over his face—a true, genuine smile.

My breath caught. From my place on the stair above him, I matched his height.

I heard my pulse in my ears as his eyes roamed my face.

I had grown quite accustomed to his serious eyes, but the smiling ones spread an unfamiliar warmth through my chest.

“Be patient,” he said. “I’ll give you your evidence eventually.

” His deep voice held a teasing note that reminded me of our first few interactions, before Charlotte had interfered and changed everything.

I savored the sound for so long that I nearly forgot to reply.

My wits evaded me. I felt the walls between us slackening, cracks spreading and threatening to collapse them entirely.

Our kiss flashed through my mind again, but it was already like a distant memory.

“Unfortunately, I’m not very patient,” I said in a quiet voice. I flashed a smile that I hoped was charming before skirting around him. With my feet on solid ground, I was able to catch my breath before spinning to face him. “I shall require my evidence today.”

“Today?” His brows lifted. He seemed to contemplate for a moment before nodding. “I shall paint a portrait of you.”

My hand flew to my heart. “Of me?” I couldn’t hide the dismay from my voice.

He smiled. “Do you have an objection?”

“N-No.”

Yes.

My throat was dry. How could I have Jonathan staring at me for hours at a time, assessing each of my features, focusing on every detail and every flaw?

My heart hammered. Even now, I could hardly endure his gaze without becoming shy.

Learning the truth about the south wing…

about his sister, and seeing how honorable and good he was for protecting her…

It was not helping my determination to dislike him.

The gruffer sides of him, the barriers and defenses—they had all begun to make sense.

If he thought that Charlotte and I were trying to hunt the fortune meant for Margaret, then of course he would be defensive.

He had dedicated his life to keeping his sister comfortable and safe.

Of course he would try to avoid anything that threatened his purpose—even me. At first, anyway.

But now he seemed to be lowering his guard.

And it made me unbearably nervous. I had thought I would be prepared, but it seemed I had developed defenses of my own.

My feelings for him were stronger than I dared to admit.

If we began spending time together, and he never felt the same for me, I would be shattered.

Had our kiss meant anything to him at all? Or had it only been a courtesy?

Jonathan backed away a step, a smile still on his lips. “I’ll gather my painting supplies. We might find a spot of shade outside.”

My stomach fluttered with nerves, but also a whirl of excitement. At the very least, we might become friends. I might not feel so alone in this house.

“Would Margaret like to join us?” I asked.

He stared at my face in surprise. Had he truly expected me to avoid his sister as everyone else did? I was proud of my ability to shock him, especially when it came to sweet Margaret. “I will ask her,” he said finally.

My shoulders relaxed as he walked back up the stairs.

I would be far more comfortable if we were not alone the entire time.

I was accustomed to having a chaperone or companion with me while in the company of gentlemen.

It was ridiculous to still feel a need for one, considering that Jonathan was my husband.

The last time we had been alone, I had asked him to kiss me, which was painfully embarrassing.

I could only hope that if he ever did kiss me again, I wouldn’t have to ask.