Page 34 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

JONATHAN

Dappled light filtered through the leaves above Alice, dotting her dress with tiny pockets of sunlight. On her stool, she sat perfectly upright, hands folded in her lap. A gentle breeze rustled her sleeves and hair as I sketched each of her features on the canvas.

“Are you comfortable?” I asked as I sketched the outline of her nose.

It was such an endearing nose, short and rounded, with freckles spreading across it.

Her blue eyes had a slight upward turn, as if conditioned that way from years of frequent smiles.

Creating this painting was an excellent excuse to look at her, even if it did make her nervous.

Each time her gaze connected with mine, she lowered it. I would have to tread carefully with my attention toward her. She had asked for more of it, but she still seemed cautious in my company. I didn’t want her to be. “Does your back hurt?” I asked. “You may rest any time you’d like.”

Alice stretched but shook her head. “I wish to be a perfect subject. I shall be as a statue for as long as you need me.”

I smiled, lifting my gaze from the canvas.

Margaret sat on a blanket on the grass several yards away, a sketchbook and pencils strewn in front of her.

She paused occasionally to look up at the clouds and seabirds in the sky.

Perhaps she was drawing them. I hadn’t realized that Alice was watching Margaret too until she spoke.

“Does she miss her?” Alice asked in a quiet voice.

“Who?”

“Her mother.”

My heart pinched with resentment, but I pushed the feeling away.

“Our mother didn’t give Margaret anything to miss.

” I dragged the tip of my pencil over the canvas.

“She hardly knew her. Margaret’s strongest bonds have always been to her nanny, Mrs. Hartwell, and her maid, Susan.

They are the women who have raised her.”

Alice’s brows sloped downward. “I think I have taken my own mother for granted. I have been reminded more than once recently that not every young girl is blessed with such a paragon as a mother. I would be quite lost without mine.”

“You are very fortunate to have her,” I said. The sadness in Alice’s eyes persisted, and it tugged at my heart. “Do you miss her?”

She nodded immediately. “Yes. I miss all of my family. I know it has only been short time, but I don’t know when I’ll see them again.”

“It won’t be long,” I promised. “You may visit them whenever you’d like. I hope you feel free to use the carriages and horses any time you wish.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Thank you. I have already become acquainted with the horses.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed your morning rides.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, a curious look behind them. “Perhaps you might join me next time instead of watching me from the window.”

I laughed under my breath, a quick denial spilling out. “I don’t watch you from the window.”

“Then how have you noticed my rides?” She tipped her head to one side. Her teasing expression was charming enough to make my mind stall.

I looked at the canvas again. “The…stablehands told me you were using the horses.”

“The stablehands told you. I see.” Her voice was heavy with doubt.

My smile spread wider, but I kept my face hidden behind the canvas.

There was nothing else I could say to explain myself.

I had indeed noticed her out riding from the window.

She was a skilled rider. I had known it from the day she raced me on the Steine.

Seeing her take charge of my own horses at my estate with such confidence had been something I couldn’t help but watch with admiration.

“Very well,” I said. “I’ll join you tomorrow.” I kept my voice as casual as possible. “If you are missing your family, perhaps you should spend time with Edmund. He might remind you of your brother.”

“The horse, Edmund?” Alice laughed. “I forgot about him!”

The delight on her face lifted my heart until I was grinning like a fool. “I will introduce the two of you tomorrow. I suspect you will be fast friends.”

The sight of her smile struck me squarely in the chest. There was a reason I had been avoiding interactions like these with Alice.

I knew the effect they had on me, and I knew how easily I would fall in love with her.

After seeing her warm reception of Margaret, and the lack of judgment in her eyes… I was practically done for.

I would have to tread carefully. Alice had once said that the idea of marrying me repulsed her.

I couldn’t forget that. I closed my heart around that reminder, hoping it would keep my feelings in check.

But the feelings I had buried were clawing their way out, and I was powerless to stop them.

Alice Kellaway—Alice Croft—was impossible to hate.

I had tried, but all it had done was leave me endlessly frustrated. Loving her would be much easier.

After I finished the sketch, Alice stood from her stool and took a peek at the canvas.

I held my breath as I watched her. There was no shortage of judgment in her eyes as she examined every inch of my work.

Finally, she turned to face me, lips parted in shock.

“This is very good. You—you have a real talent.”

“You might at least attempt to hide the surprise from your voice.” I chuckled.

She grinned. “It’s painful for me to confess that I find this so remarkable. I have been calling you a novice all this time.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

She wandered back to her stool. “Perhaps we should both stop making assumptions about one another.”

I had certainly been guilty of that on multiple occasions. I was terrible at stopping the panic in my chest when questions and fears rose up inside me. My reactions were often unwelcome and extreme, and I struggled to navigate them.

Alice was still waiting for my reply, but my face burned with a hint of shame. I cleared my throat. “Agreed. We have both received evidence today to contradict our assumptions. Forgive me for assuming that you would not be kind to Margaret.”

She pressed her lips together with a small nod, though she didn’t seem fully satisfied with my words.

“What is it?” I asked, calling her gaze back to my face.

Her brow furrowed. “If we are to be…friends—” she paused, as if questioning her choice of words,” we must learn to trust one another.

Trust doesn’t require evidence.” She twisted her fingers together.

“Sometimes evidence cannot be given. Let us take one another at our word from now on. Let us be honest and forthright.”

I would have done anything to banish the uncertainty in her eyes, so I gave a resolute nod. “I would love nothing more.”

The air felt a little tighter between us, as if our agreement had tied us together in a new and irreversible way. Perhaps it had. A breeze rustled Alice’s hair over her eyes, breaking the connection. After a moment, she walked toward Margaret, leaving me alone with my easel and sketch of my wife.

I watched as she sat down on the blanket beside my sister, pointing at the sketchbook in front of her with a broad smile.

Margaret’s gaze flickered up to Alice’s face, a look of clear contentment in her eyes.

If only I could be more like my sister, unafraid to admire and love—trusting others despite having every reason not to.

There was always more to learn from Margaret.

A deep sense of yearning assailed my heart as I observed their interactions from my place under the tree, until I was convinced that I had never seen anything more beautiful.

With her arms outstretched at her sides, Margaret spun in a circle, head craned up toward the ceiling. Her eyes were closed, a smile plastered on her lips. She paused to hop on the tips of her toes as she listened to the notes of the pianoforte.

I stood behind the doorway of the music room in the south wing, keeping most of my body out of sight.

I didn’t want to interrupt what I had stumbled upon.

In the late afternoon sunlight, Alice’s hands raced over the keys, playing a tune by memory.

Margaret rarely had the opportunity to enjoy music.

I didn’t have the skill to provide it, and neither did the servants.

The pure joy on Margaret’s face made my heart melt into a puddle at my feet.

Her long blonde hair splayed out from her head like rays of sunlight, and the moment the song ended, she clapped.

Margaret’s disinterest in company seemed to have faded at the sound of the pianoforte. She took a few steps toward Alice, still bouncing with delight. “Again?”

Alice turned, her smile just as wide. “Of course, my dear. You are a very accomplished dancer.”

It had been a week since I had introduced Alice to Margaret, and the two had become dear friends already.

Margaret retreated back to the center of the floor, prepared to demonstrate her dancing once again.

Alice began the same song from the beginning, seemingly unbothered by the repetition.

I couldn’t tear my gaze from her as she played, but I couldn’t very well lurk in the corridor much longer either.

Without making a sound, I walked into the room.

Margaret seemed to sense me nearby, her eyes flying open.

Her dance paused for a brief moment, but then I extended both my hands.

She blinked fast, taking them with a smile.

We spun together, and I matched my energy to hers, hopping when she hopped, and releasing her hands when she pulled them away.

Laughter was rare from Margaret, but the delightful sound spilled out as I led her into a twirl.

Alice glanced back, tripping over a few notes as she noticed for the first time that I was there. Her face split into a smile, and she played with renewed vigor. I laughed along with Margaret as we continued our rather clumsy dance.

Over the past week, I had taken a morning ride with Alice each day.

Our conversations hadn’t been malicious at all, in fact, they had been light and easy.

We told stories from our childhoods. I had learned more about what she liked and despised, and how she viewed the world.

I had been trying my best to behave as a friend, even if I had no greater wish than to take her in my arms and kiss her again.

Having and holding her was still forbidden if I were to respect the wishes she had expressed in the carriage the day of our wedding.

Laughing and dancing with her, however, were not forbidden at all.

The moment the song ended, I approached the pianoforte. I was out of breath from my dance with Margaret, but I offered a deep bow. “May I have the honor of a dance, Mrs. Croft?”

Alice’s brows shot up. “Without music?”

“Margaret is still dancing, is she not?”

Alice grinned, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks.

She took my hand, and I closed my fingers around hers.

I thought of the dance I had asked her for at the ball at the Castle Inn.

She and Miss Lyons had caused a scene and left before the dance could occur.

I still wondered what their fight had truly been about, but I didn’t want to ask—not now.

Alice stood, and I tugged her toward the improvised dance floor.

Alice laughed—at my enthusiasm, no doubt—but allowed me to spin her by the hand.

She twirled, stumbling forward until I caught her by the waist. Her laughter rang through the room, echoing off the walls.

“What sort of a dance is this?” she choked out.

“Why must all dances have a name?” I grinned, taking both her hands and stepping backward, then forward.

She followed my lead, eyes glinting with amusement as she stared up at my face.

Or was it horror? I couldn’t quite tell.

My jovial mood could only be explained by her, though I didn’t know how to tell her that.

She continued laughing as I spun her around the room, performing rigadoons and chassés, tugging her left and right by the hands until we were both breathless with laughter. I pulled her close, holding tightly to both her hands.

She smiled up at me, the light from the nearby window catching green hues in her eyes that I had never noticed before.

Perhaps it was the green of her gown that caused them to appear.

I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but the words lodged in my throat.

Her laughter subsided, her eyes tracing over my features one at a time, a gentle curiosity in her gaze.

What was she looking for?

I felt vulnerable, as if a mask of some sort had fallen from my face during our dance.

I stole a glance at her smiling lips. I had forbidden myself from doing so, but the temptation was too great.

Waves of longing crashed through my stomach, and I realized that I had been absently running my thumb over her knuckles.

She smelled of citrus and something sweet like molasses sugar, though I couldn’t imagine how that was possible.

Perhaps it was due to her choice of soap, embedded in her skin and hair.

I was beginning to realize that I wanted to know all the little things about her, such as what soap she used.

Even the realization of all the things I didn’t know was bothersome.

Almost as bothersome as the fact that she had used the word friend in regard to me.

I wanted more than that. I wanted her in every possible way.

“Again?” Margaret appeared beside us, making Alice startle. Her hands pulled away from mine.

“I shall play a different song this time,” Alice said. “I think you will like it.”

Margaret didn’t reply but darted back to her place on the open floor. I willed the rate of my heart to slow, drawing a deep breath before turning around.

When Margaret finally tired of dancing, she sat on a pink velvet chair in the corner of the room. Her smile still stretched wide as Alice played another piece on the pianoforte. When the song ended, she rotated on the bench, facing me with a smile. “I have an idea.”