Page 37 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

I caught a whisper from behind us, as well as a few sideways glances from across the aisle.

I didn’t let go of Alice’s fingers as I set her hand back where I had found it in her lap, tracing a slow circle over the place I had kissed, then across her knuckles.

After a few seconds, she melted against my arm and shoulder, leaning close as the rector stepped up behind the pulpit.

The service carried on—hymns, prayers, a sermon on steadfastness in the face of trial—but I heard little of it. I was far too distracted.

The final amens echoed, and a young girl in the row behind whispered too loudly, “Is she very rich, Mama?” which drew a hush.

The congregation seemed to have been just as distracted by Alice throughout the sermon as I was.

Across the aisle, two elderly ladies bent their bonnets together, lips moving furiously as they stole glances in her direction.

I already knew there would be many people who were eager for an introduction, so I forced myself to put on a polite smile, though it pained me to do so.

Alice held firmly to my arm as we took our leave to the sunlit yard.

We lingered near the porch, offering the requisite greetings.

Alice’s manners seemed to charm most of the parish, though they all still gathered in clusters to whisper on the outskirts of the grass.

Alice’s friendly nature soon had her drawn into conversation with a cluster of elderly ladies, leaving me momentarily alone.

That was when Lady Fenton approached. I hardly knew the woman, but that she had once been a friend of my mother’s.

Her family’s estate exceeded mine in land and profit, and her husband’s status as an earl demanded that I treat her with civility.

Compared to many others, she had been generous in her treatment of Margaret, often sending books and dolls and other well-wishes.

“Mr. Croft,” she greeted, lowering her head. Her eyes glinted with delight beneath the brim of her grey bonnet. “Your bride has made quite the impression. She has such a fresh face. Delightful to look upon.”

I forced a polite smile. “You are kind to say so, my lady.”

She leaned closer, her tone lowering. “And such fine taste. Why, I passed by Mrs. Harker’s shop only yesterday and was struck by the sight of the many bolts of fabric being carried in. A great many gowns ordered, I was told…almost as though your wife were outfitting herself anew for a season.”

A faint chill prickled down my spine. Why had Alice not told me about her extensive shopping? “Is that so?” I asked evenly, though my pulse had quickened.

Lady Fenton laughed, touching my arm with her gloved fingers. “Oh, it is nothing, of course. Every bride indulges in a little extravagance. And with your inheritance, well, a gentleman may afford such whims. She is fortunate, indeed.”

She bowed her head, then drifted off toward another knot of parishioners, leaving me rooted where I stood.

I shook the suspicions from my mind, forcing myself to think reasonably.

I wanted Alice to be comfortable, and to have all that she needed.

But she understood how I felt about the use of my inheritance.

Why would she behave so frivolously? It didn’t make sense, yet my stomach still sank with dread.

I glanced at Alice, where she laughed softly with one of the vicar’s daughters. A pang of disappointment struck my chest. Perhaps Lady Fenton had been wrong, and it hadn’t been Alice who had ordered all the gowns. I would have to send for the bill from the modiste to find out.

That was the only way I could know for certain.

A few minutes later, after Alice’s lengthy conversations had finally ended, we returned to the carriage and rode away from the churchyard.

Alice settled into her seat across from me, her gloved hands folded in her lap.

“That wasn’t as dreadful as I feared,” she said with a small smile.

“They were curious, of course, but everyone seemed quite kind.”

My brow twitched. Just before coming to church, Alice had acted as if she would take up arms against all the women at church, and now they were ‘kind’?

“I am glad they were kind to you.” I stared down at the floor, fighting the emotions in my chest. Lady Fenton’s insinuations refused to leave my mind. I tried to put the conversation from my thoughts, but it lingered like a burn wound, stinging and itching inside me.

Alice fell silent for a long moment. “They are not perfect by any means. I certainly don’t condone their behavior toward Margaret.”

“I know.” I managed a nod. “I didn’t mean to imply that.

” I swallowed hard. Why was I acting so cold?

I didn’t want to, but to even look at her face was suddenly painful.

I didn’t want to lose the Alice I had come to know to the woman I was so afraid she would be.

I wanted to think the best of her. I really wanted to.

The carriage rolled on in silence until Alice spoke again. “You’re rather quiet. Did something trouble you?”

I shifted, adjusting my sleeves with more force than necessary. “No. Nothing.” I lifted my gaze with a smile.

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t press the subject.

She gazed out the window instead, watching the hedgerows as they passed.

A shaft of sunlight caught the curve of her cheek, and for a moment I almost asked her directly for an explanation.

But what would that reveal? My suspicion and mistrust?

I would be better to wait, to see for myself whether Lady Fenton’s words were true.

I could pay a visit to the modiste the next day.

“There is something I must tell you,” Alice said suddenly. “I did something rash, and I didn’t think that you would mind…but…” her voice trailed off. “It occurred to me that I should have sought your opinion first.”

I sat up straighter. “What is it?”

She bit her lower lip, eyes heavy. “I invited Charlotte—er—Miss Lyons—to Margaret’s ball. I know we agreed that only my family would attend, but I miss her, and I thought that this might be an opportunity for us to make amends.”

With the subject of the dresses on my mind, I hadn’t expected her confession to be something else entirely.

I took a deep breath, struggling as I searched for a reply.

Miss Lyons seemed to be the last sort of woman I would want introduced to Margaret.

All it took was one look at Miss Lyons to know that she judged others harshly.

Perhaps I was being presumptuous, but I had found her character lacking instantly upon meeting her.

“Has she already accepted the invitation?” I asked.

“Yes.” Alice wrung her hands together. “I was delighted. We didn’t part ways as friends, but it is my hope that we can be reconciled soon.”

Frustration lingered in my chest. “The ball is in two days. Why didn’t you tell me until now?”

“I thought you would disapprove. I know she didn’t make an agreeable impression on you, but I’m confident that she will treat Margaret with respect.

I will make sure of it.” Her soft voice traced over me, begging me to relax.

It didn’t work. My agitation only grew as the carriage stopped outside Southcliff Manor.

I wanted Alice to see her family and friends, but the last time she and Miss Lyons had been together, Alice had behaved much differently. Which version of her was real? Had I created a perfect one in my head?

My heart stung, but I buried my emotions.

I felt Alice’s gaze, but at the moment, I couldn’t look at her face.

All it would take would be one cruel whisper or laugh from Miss Lyons, and the ball could be ruined for Margaret.

Did Alice not realize that? Her view of her friend had become distorted, masked by a few good moments they must have shared.

Had the same thing happened to me, but toward my wife?

I fought hard against the doubt rising in my heart, but I was drowning in it. Perhaps Alice had bought all of those gowns in order to gloat to her competitor about all the fine things she now possessed. Perhaps she had invited Charlotte only to revel in her success at securing me.

I stopped the spiral of my thoughts. Speculating would do more harm than good. Whether I liked it or not, Charlotte would be attending the ball. It would be wise not to reflect too deeply on the motivation behind it.

If only I knew how to be that wise.