Chapter Sixteen
ALICE
My heart thudded, my gaze darting between Jonathan and the innkeeper. I reflected on the last few sentences they had exchanged.
Had I misheard?
I was nearly certain that the innkeeper had saidroomand notrooms.
Hours in the carriage with Jonathan had already been tense enough. I had practically thrown myself onto his lap, an incident which still burned through my mind with mortification. How could I share a room with him? He had assured me that I would have my own at Southcliff Manor, but stopping at The Red Lion had not been part of our plan.
I felt a hint of heat creeping up the sides of my face—and I was fairly certain I could not blame the fireplace. The frequency at which I had been blushing throughout the day was unacceptable. Mr. Croft—or rather—Jonathanhad a talent for causing such a response in me.
From his place across the table, Jonathan continued making arrangements with the innkeeper. I studied his wet hair, dark brows, and the sharp angles of his jaw. He had been growing more attractive by the hour, but also more vexing. Since the very moment the vicar had pronounced him my husband, he had been vexing me. From securing water and a fan when I was faint, to ensuring our horse’s safety, to declaring that he intended to honor me…
My heart fluttered. What was he trying to prove, and why? He had been clear that he never wanted me, but now he was acting as if he…enjoyedtolerating me—as if he looked forward to beingamusedby me for the rest of his life. I bit my lip. His behavior didn’t make sense. Not in the slightest.
I watched as the innkeeper handed a key to Jonathan and made his way back to the counter to serve another guest. I stared at the piece of metal in his hand with misgiving. I hardly knew what to say. He had told me that this would not be an ordinary wedding night, and I certainly believed him. But my face burned at the thought of sharing a room with him. How could we go from being mere acquaintances, to enemies, to husband and wife, all in a matter of days?
I was not prepared.
“I’ll sleep in the carriage.” Jonathan’s voice cut through my thoughts. I tore my gaze away from the key in his hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I swallowed. I had burned my tongue on the mutton stew, and it still felt raw. “That would look very strange.”
Jonathan folded his arms, raising one doubtful eyebrow. “Perhaps the other travelers would understand. I imagine any wife might banish her husband to the carriages when she is cross with him.”
“I’m not cross with you,” I mumbled. “You have been oddly amiable today, actually.”
“Oddly?”
I released a huffed breath. I did not want to flatter him for behaving decently. It was the least he could do as a gentleman and as a husband. He did not deserve some great speech of praise. To reward his amiable behavior would only encourage more, and I liked it better when we didn’t speak, or when he didn’t look at me with a smile dancing across his lips. He was far too handsome, and it made me forget how angry he made me.
And how badly he had hurt me.
Now that I was his obligatory wife, I was not about to become a mere source of amusement. He had been bored during our long ride in the carriage, I was sure of it. That was the only reason he had spoken to me at all. The moment we arrived at Southcliff Manor, there would be no need for us to interact so closely.
But tonight, it seemed we had no other choice.
“We will sort something out,” I said with finality, sealing my words with a large gulp of water. I had never realized how much water I drank when I was nervous, but Jonathan had brought this strange new habit out in me. He watched from across the table as I gulped down another sip. Why was he smiling? It was unsettling after seeing so many of his harsh scowls. I drained the last few drops of water with a little more decorum before setting down my cup.
Flickering shadows crossed over his features. In the firelight, his dark brown eyes looked like honey—but not nearly as sweet.
“What are you smiling at?” I snapped. I couldn’t help my curiosity.
He was silent for a moment, wiping the smile off his face with a thoughtful look. “Your obvious love of water. First the sea, then the rain. Now the contents of your tankard.”
Was he teasing me now? I couldn’t hide my confusion. After telling me he would never have an attachment to me, accusingme of ensnaring him, and making no secret of the begrudging nature of his proposal, how did he expect me to respond to his change of attitude? Until an apology fell from his lips, I refused to entertain him. Of course, I hadn’t been pleasant toward him either, but I had always been the first to apologize to Charlotte. I would not do the same with him.
“There are worse things to love than water,” I said.
A crease formed near his mouth. “A fair point.”
“You live by the coast.” I interlocked my fingers atop the table. “Being master of a seaside estate demands a love of the water, does it not?”
“If it were my choice to be master of the estate, then yes.” He turned his gaze to the fire. “Being the only son was what demanded it, nothing more.”
My curiosity awakened again, stirring inside of me like a living thing. I told myself not to pry, but this estate was going to be my home. It was fair to ask questions. “Your sisters said you inherited the house three years ago?” I reached instinctively for my cup, but it was empty.Blast it.
