Chapter 21
You are not even listening to me, are you?”
“Hmm?” Alice blinked, looking over at Mrs. Watts where she sat; her armchair was parallel to Alice in the bustling drawing room. It seemed every member of the party had chosen to remain following dinner for the first time in several days.
The older woman narrowed her eyes. “Are you getting enough sleep? I know these parties can be trying.”
Alice straightened in her seat, willing her eyes not to stray to the corner of the room where she knew Sir Henry stood in conversation with the lieutenants.
Warmth trailed to her fingertips thinking about him and their afternoon together.
Then he had joined her for the play practice, entertaining the group with his antics as the mischievous fairy, Puck.
“I am doing fine, thank you. I appreciate your worry, though.”
“If you are sure. I know Commander Seymour thrived on these parties, but I never thought you enjoyed them quite as much.”
She struggled to keep her eyes on Mrs. Watts. “Mmm, yes, he did enjoy hosting.”
“But do you? I admit I have been concerned that I pushed you to host this summer when perhaps you did not want to.”
Alice’s eyes gave in. Her gaze darted to the side of the room.
He was already watching her. His mouth was curved in a smile that grew as she looked his way.
She felt warmth rising to her cheeks and quickly looked back at Mrs. Watts.
What was wrong with her? She had never felt this way with George.
Not this pleasant warmth. Heat from anxiety, yes.
Contentedness that he was handling the social aspect of their events, often.
But never warmth at a look. “Do not worry, Mrs. Watts. I am grateful I decided to host this party.”
The woman’s concern finally disappeared and she nodded. “Good. I am glad. Now, I do believe I will retire for the night. I hope to join you all at the cliffs tomorrow, and I know I will not be up for it if I have not had a full night’s rest.”
Alice stood and bid her farewell, then forced herself to move on to converse with another group from her party. She’d been remiss in her hostess duties when she’d left with Sir Henry, but she would not fail now. Even if she only wanted to go to the opposite side of the room.
Perhaps she’d converse with just one or two people, though. Then she would allow herself to speak with Sir Henry.
“Mr. Warren,” she said, upon greeting this grouping of her guests. “I confess I hadn’t a clue you were so talented at lawn bowls before last week.”
Miss Watts, who had been sitting nearby, looked up. “Oh yes. And he was so poorly paired with me.”
The man’s impressive moustache curved with his mouth. “I did not regret it for a moment.”
“If nothing else, I suppose I made you look a great deal better,” Miss Watts said on a laugh. She turned to Alice. “What time are we meant to depart tomorrow? I know you only just told us, but I swear I cannot keep half a thought in my mind some days.”
Alice didn’t have the chance to answer.
“The carriages will be ready to go at three o’clock.” Sir Henry had appeared at her elbow and answered for her. When she glanced at him in surprise, he smiled down at her.
And then his eyes flicked to her lips, and warmth bloomed again in her midsection. Oh heavens.
“Wonderful. I am looking forward to the outing,” Miss Watts said, unaware of the internal turmoil Alice was experiencing. “I so enjoyed the ruins.”
“As did I,” Mr. Warren added.
“I found it fascinating that the archway still stood when so much had been reduced to a handful of stones,” Henry offered.
Miss Watts was clearly excited by the conversation. Quite a change from how many of the guests had avoided him at the start of the stay. “Yes, I had exactly the same thought.”
“Perhaps the use of a keystone actually proved more lasting than even whatever they utilized to connect the walls,” Mr. Warren added.
“Did you notice that formation on the south end?” Miss Watts asked, looking first to Henry then to Mr. Warren.
Henry nodded but allowed Mr. Warren to respond. “Yes—the part that looked very nearly like it might have housed a stove or fireplace at some point?” Mr. Warren responded, eyes lighting.
“Exactly! I had thought . . . ”
“Perhaps we should leave them for a moment,” Henry’s voice whispered in her ear. His breath tickled the loose tendrils of hair that curled at the nape of her neck.
She nodded, unable to speak. Was the room hot? Perhaps she should get a footman to open a window. Surreptitiously, she breathed in and out.
Henry’s eyes were intense on her, but with a tilt of his head, he suggested they take a pair of chairs by the doors to the garden. Though they did not touch once, the air between them seemed to spark.
Alice didn’t know what to make of it. This felt entirely new to her.
She’d cared for and admired her husband, but she’d never experienced these nearly giddy feelings.
They had kissed, and more, on occasion during their marriage.
They had been married, after all. But never—never—had he made her feel this upended. How had he not?
Did it make her a bad wife to feel this way now? Toward another man?
Henry waited until she had sat, then settled himself in the chair beside her, folding his hands over his stomach and leaning onto the chair’s arm closest to her. As if drawn by some unseen force, she leaned closer as well.
“My evening has been entirely uneventful,” he said, a smile winking in his eyes. “Especially compared to my afternoon.”
She hid a smile. “Yes, well, you did fall from the couch during our play rehearsal.”
He nodded. “I am quite skilled, am I not?”
“At falling? Evidently so.”
He smiled at her, and there her stomach went again.
“I trust you have also been withering away from boredom since we have been parted?” he asked.
Forcing herself to relax her hostess persona and just enjoy this moment, she tilted her head in thought. “I have been quite busy actually.”
“Did you make anything for dinner?”
“Not this time. I was otherwise engaged. These sorts of perfectly crafted evenings do not just plan themselves, you know.”
“Hmm, maybe I should help you next time. To alleviate my boredom, of course.”
She had a sudden image of them side by side at a table, shoulders and maybe even legs brushing. Oh, dear. That would not be boring in the least.
“I would appreciate the company,” she managed to say, and it even came out fairly normal-sounding.
She could safely tell him that; he probably wouldn’t follow through with his suggestion.
After all, her own husband had never helped plan anything despite his love of entertaining.
He preferred to show up at the event and judge its perfection.
That was not entirely fair. He was not always judgmental.
She was just growing surprised to realize how many of the things he did that others did not do, and how many things had hurt her without her even realizing it.
His drinking, she had hated, but he had many other wonderful qualities.
These newfound experiences had to be coloring her memories and causing her to view her late husband in more negative a light.
That, or her marriage had been a lie.
“Is everything well? You seem despondent all of a sudden.” Sir Henry’s voice broke into her rapidly spiraling thoughts.
She shook her head. “I am sorry. Simply . . . memories.”
His shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, but his eyes remained trained on her. “No, I am sorry. I sometimes forget that you . . . well, I should not tease and push you so.”
“It is not you. Not at all.” She fingered her skirt, a lovely silk that Mercy had insisted on.
How much should she reveal of her thoughts?
She’d never spoken to anyone about her marriage except in the most glowing of terms because that was how everyone had spoken to her of it.
She and George had been a perfect pairing according to all of their acquaintances.
But she was coming to learn so many things that caused her confusion and concern, and she rather wished to talk it through with someone.
Someone who had not once made her feel judged.
Who had been open and honest with her and who did not come across as perfect himself.
“I . . . ” She glanced over her shoulder.
Every member of the party was engaged in conversation, and none of them were near Henry and her.
“I always thought my marriage was normal.”
Sir Henry’s brows furrowed. “But it was not?”
“Perhaps not. He . . . he expected a great deal of me.”
His jaw clenched, but he said nothing, only watching her and waiting for her to reveal what she wished.
“Lately I have begun to wonder if he expected too much. I often . . . well, this is rather embarrassing, but I often was made to feel as though I did not measure up. As though I had failed or that I was a failure. I do not know that he meant to, though. He was a good man.” Most of the time.
Henry’s nostrils flared, and his tone was tight when he spoke. “It is not good for anyone to make you feel like a failure.”
Alice lifted a shoulder, still trying to process all of her thoughts. “I did fail, though. Many times.”
“That does not make you a failure. That means you made mistakes. But did you even? What were these expectations he held you to?”
“Perfection,” she breathed, the word tumbling from her lips without thought. And now it seemed silly.
Henry clearly agreed, as he scoffed. “No one is perfect. Believe me, I know.”
“I know. I do. But I tried.”
His hand landed on her forearm, his eyes meeting hers. “Mrs. Seymour,” he said in an undertone, “it was not right of him to expect so much of you. You are human. You are allowed to make mistakes.”
She blinked away unexpected tears. “I do not know that anyone has ever told me that.”
His hand constricted on her arm. “Well, now I have. And I will continue telling you until you believe it.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I may need it.” She laughed a little. “Habits are hard to break.”
“I know it.”
She supposed he did. He’d dealt with his lack of drink and didn’t seem any the worse for it now.
Which showed how different he was from George already. George had never managed nor attempted to manage to curb his alcoholism.
“How have you been . . . by the way . . . with . . . ” She did not know exactly how to phrase it.
“With my reliance on drink?” Henry asked in a self-deprecating but straightforward manner.
“Well, yes.”
“I was not lying when I told you I was not a drunk. I did have a gambling problem for a time that was tied to my drinking, but I’ve since gotten it under control.
So, to be honest, I’d not thought it an issue.
But after those days where I was sick, I admit I’ve never felt so clear-headed.
I am uninterested in settling a fog over my mind again. ”
“So you intend this to be a, ah, long-term change?” She leaned forward even more. Over the last few days she’d simply pushed this issue to the back of her mind, but it was still there. It would always be there if she was not willing to do anything about it.
He met her eyes. “Yes.” His answer was clear and direct. Meaningful.
Relief coursed through her. “I am glad to hear it.”
His hand squeezed her arm once more, then released her as Lieutenant Carruthers walked in front of them, glancing their way with raised brow.
Alice shifted in her seat, tucking her skirt about her. “Lieutenant,” she greeted.
“Mrs. Seymour.” He paused before them, eyes shifting to Sir Henry. “I look forward to another game of billiards, Sir Henry.”
Sir Henry glanced at Alice, including her in the conversation. “He bested me terribly.” He looked back to the lieutenant. “But should your pride need further bolstering, I am happy to play again.”
A grin creased the corner of the lieutenant’s mouth. “I shall keep you informed.” Then he bid them farewell, continuing on to speak with another member of the party.
Sir Henry’s brows furrowed as he studied the man’s retreating figure. “Do you spend a great deal of time with your husband’s old friends?”
“No, actually. They only ever come in the summer and were both stationed elsewhere two years ago. Lieutenant Carruthers was also unable to attend last year. I admit when I extended the invitation this time, I did not expect them to accept.” She watched the room—took in the couples conversing and groups happily engaged.
Her voice lowered. “I felt it was my duty to include them, though. They were frequent guests whenever their leave coincided with Commander Seymour’s. ”
Henry seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Then they are not often on the island?”
She shook her head. “Not as far as I am aware.”
His eyes strayed back to the lieutenant, now across the room. “I hope I am not overstepping in saying this.” His voice lowered. “But neither man has left a favorable impression on me. I would recommend perhaps limiting your time alone with either.”
Alice blinked. She did not particularly love them herself, but she was surprised to find that feeling was not exclusive to her. “I will take that into consideration.”
She’d not realized how he was gripping his hands together until he released them, sitting back into the couch. “I apologize if that seems heavy-handed of me. I do not intend it that way.”
“No, I appreciate the sentiment. It is kind of you to worry.”
His eyes creased at the edges, and he gave a small nod. “Now, what are we planning next? Can I help with the outing tomorrow?”
She stared at him. “You truly wish to?” She found that hard to believe.
“I said I did.” He seemed surprised.
“Oh. Well, then . . . I am planning a masquerade ball for the final evening. I would appreciate any help.”
He nodded once. “Of course. I would love to. Just tell me where and when.”
“Tomorrow? Before the outing . . . perhaps in the study?”
His eyes fell to his knees, then came back to hers. “I’ll be there.” He smiled deeply, and it made her insides squirm delightfully.