Page 35 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

ALICE

“Ithink we should plan a private ball for Margaret,” I whispered. “She is sixteen, after all. Most young ladies attend their first ball around her age.” I couldn’t stop the grin on my face.

Jonathan tugged his cravat away from his neck. All his dancing had left a sheen of sweat on his brow. I had never seen him so lively before, with such easy smiles and laughter. But at the proposal of my ‘idea,’ his brow creased.

Drat. I knew that look well by now.

His gaze shifted in his sister’s direction. “She seemed content enough with the ball we just held.”

I followed his gaze. Margaret didn’t seem to be observing the conversation, at least not with her eyes. She might have been listening, though. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, eyes flickering over the ceiling as she sat in her pink velvet chair.

Jonathan spoke again, pulling my attention from Margaret. “I don’t know who we could invite. I would never include the neighbors in such an invitation. If they did attend, they would only do so to make themselves appear charitable.” His scowl deepened.

I shook my head. “Not the neighbors. Heavens, no.” I still hadn’t met any of them, but by the way Jonathan spoke of their gossip about Margaret, I knew I never wanted to befriend them. “I thought I might invite my family.” I waited, my heart in my throat.

Jonathan’s scowl smoothed over, but only a little.

“My mother, father, and Edmund, of course. I’m fairly certain Owen and Annette would also be able to attend.

You might also extend the invitation to Penelope and Joanna before they leave Brighton.

It isn’t so very far from here.” My excitement was making me speak too quickly.

I caught my breath, casting him a cajoling smile.

“If Margaret understood the event was in her honor, would she not be touched? Every young lady deserves to attend a ball. I can assure you that my family will receive her with nothing but kindness.”

Jonathan didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the idea, but he seemed open to it, at least. “Very well.” A slow smile curled his lips upward. “We shall plan a ball.”

“Truly?” I jumped to my feet.

His smile grew, and the softness in his gaze set my heart pounding again. To distract myself, I walked to Margaret instead. “Did you hear that? We are going to have a ball, just for you, at Southcliff Manor.”

Margaret’s gaze darted to my face. “Dance?”

“Yes, we will dance all night.”

“Jon.”

I nodded. “Your brother will dance with you for as long as you’d like.”

She smiled.

There. Now there was no possible way that Jonathan could change his mind.

He looked slightly nervous, standing there with his arms crossed and a crease between his eyebrows.

It must have been difficult for him to imagine introducing Margaret to so many people at once, and to believe what I had said about how kind they were.

But he didn’t know my family like I did.

Gratitude surged up in my chest. Even though it had been difficult for him, he had still allowed it.

He had trusted me just a little more.

Suddenly overwhelmed, I squealed with delight.

This would be the first ball I had ever hosted on my own.

I wanted it to be perfect for Margaret’s sake.

With her uncle’s fortune, there was no reason it couldn’t be the most extravagant event Southcliff Manor had ever seen.

I was already imagining the variety of shells with which I would decorate the ballroom—perhaps we could use the parlor?

Without furniture, there would be plenty of room for dancing.

I pictured the refreshment table lined with bread cut into various shapes, with red, purple, and orange jams. Other colors too.

Anything Margaret could dream of.

I took three large steps forward. “Thank you, Jonathan.”

“Of cour—”

Without thinking, I rose on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, stopping his words. My eyes widened as my heels returned to the ground.

What on earth had possessed me to do that?

He turned to me in apparent surprise, but I had already rotated toward the door. I didn’t dare examine the look on his face. My cheeks burned as I took my leave to my bedchamber. There were endless details of the ball to discuss, and a long list of matters to plan. I wanted to start straight away.

Dear Charlotte,

I think you would love Southcliff Manor, though I wonder if it would be grand enough for your tastes. The furnishings are rather old, but the house and surrounding towns possess a charm unlike anything I could have imagined.

I lifted my quill, an ache spreading through my chest. Daylight faded out my window, so I lit a candle to help me see the letter in front of me.

It had been three days since I had proposed my idea for a ball to Jonathan, and I had already made many of the arrangements with Mrs. Linton.

Earlier that day, Margaret had allowed me to take her measurements, which I had brought with me to the local modiste.

Eliza had accompanied me to the village as I ordered several new dresses for Margaret, including a deep red ballgown to match her favorite jam.

The dresses she currently had were old and far too short in the hem.

She was quite particular about what she wore, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t have a variety of fine dresses to choose from.

Besides the shopping and planning of the menu, decorations, and music, I had sent all the invitations to Hampshire.

All except one.

I looked down at my letter to Charlotte again and was struck with a sudden pang of sadness.

I missed her. I felt her absence more keenly knowing how we had fought before parting ways.

There was so much that we had left unresolved—so many hurt feelings left untreated.

We had once shared a dream of managing our own households and hosting our own balls.

We had giggled over these dreams together.

I had never imagined hosting my first ball at my own estate without her being there, looking beautiful as ever, and complimenting—or criticizing—my choice of decorations.

Despite how cruel she had been to me in Brighton, I couldn’t help but mourn our friendship.

I couldn’t help but want to forgive her.

In a different way than Margaret, Charlotte was also not easily understood.

I had been the only person in her life to ever come close.

I didn’t truly know what she endured behind the closed doors of her home, but I had an idea of the level of pressure her mother placed her under.

An absence of love, given or received, could turn any heart bitter.

It could make a person do very desperate things.

I had been so angry with her in Brighton, but now that some time had passed, that anger had transformed to pity.

I turned my attention back to the letter, dipping my quill in fresh ink.

At first, I wasn’t certain if I could be happy here, but I have adjusted rather quickly. I take rides each morning on a black horse named Betsy. I enjoy walks by the sea, but I have yet to take another swim. I daresay that is for the best. My husband is tolerating me more with each passing day.

I was afraid to use a word besides tolerate to describe what Jonathan felt toward me.

He was spending more time with me…and we rarely argued, but that didn’t mean he had any feelings for me.

My heart pounded, as if to refute what I was telling myself.

I couldn’t mistake the way he had looked at me, nor the way he had kissed me.

He hadn’t simply tolerated that kiss. He hadn’t simply tolerated our dance in the south wing with Margaret.

He did seem to enjoy our rides each morning.

But I didn’t trust Charlotte with any information like that.

I wasn’t even certain I could properly navigate it.

The idea that my husband could possibly care for me was too good to be true.

I still felt a need to prove myself to him—to show him that I wasn’t a fortune hunter who had married him for the wrong reasons.

I was desperate to make this ball perfect, if only to show him that I could be trusted.

I kept my letter short, writing out the brief details of ball.

I didn’t ask Charlotte to come, but I told her she was welcome to attend if she wished.

I would leave the choice up to her. It was a risk to invite her at all.

I wasn’t certain about how she would behave toward Margaret—or even how she would behave toward me.

I had informed Mama of Margaret’s situation in a letter, so I could only hope that she would prepare Charlotte properly before their arrival.

Before I could change my mind, I signed my name at the bottom of the page.

Your friend,

Alice