Chapter 24
Alice led the way to the top floor of the estate, her fingers restless with the effect of her boldness.
“Did you have anything you needed to do just now?” she asked over her shoulder, beginning to renege in her thoughts of bringing him up here.
His smile was quick and creased his eyes. “Nothing at all.”
Well, there went that possibility.
The door she sought was in an alcove. She met Sir Henry’s gaze as she located the handle that seemed a part of the very wall.
His brows were lifted and excitement sparked in his eyes.
Within a few months of living here, she had explored every inch of the place during her nighttime strolls. This had been her favorite discovery.
The hinges creaked with disuse, and open air met their faces.
She led the way, out the door and up the narrow steps lined in stone on either side. When she had crested them, the wind caught her hair, teasing several curls out of their coiffure.
They were atop the keep; a low stone wall surrounded the entirety of the roof. And the view was extraordinary.
Sir Henry came up beside her, placing his hands on the stone battlements. His head moved slowly from one side to another as he took it all in. The lush land around them. The heavy clouds low on the horizon. The miles and miles of open ocean.
“This is incredible,” he said, his voice almost immediately stolen by the wind.
“I believe it may be what the estate was named after. If you notice, we sit at the rim of a valley.”
“And clearly the wind is impressive,” Sir Henry finished, turning to her. His hair was flattened, half of it in his eyes.
Alice held back a laugh.
“Go on, tell me how wonderful I look.”
“Something special to be certain.”
He chuckled, swiping back his hair, then pointed. “You can see the ruins from here.”
She followed his finger, though she knew what spot he indicated. One could see most of the island from this spot. She watched the waves crash on the shore and then the blue that stretched until the horizon beyond.
She heard Sir Henry take a deep breath beside her.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
He chuckled again, but it was less humorous. “I was thinking about how wonderful the isolation is here. It feels like an entirely different world.”
“And that upsets you?” There was a crease in his brows and a sadness to his words.
He swallowed, looking out over the ocean. His jaw appeared tight. “I just worry about what happens when I leave the isolation. I left a bit of a mess back in London.”
Alice watched him. How big of a mess? And what sort? “I am certain whatever it is, you can clean it up.”
“I am trying.”
The silence stretched between them. Alice wanted to distract him from wherever his thoughts were going.
“I like how loud it is up here,” she said of a sudden. It worked, gaining Sir Henry’s attention.
“Loud?”
She nodded. “The wind. It nearly drowns out everything else. All the worries and constant pressures that build within my head are smothered here.”
He leaned an arm on the wall. “You worry a great deal.” His tone was soft. Thoughtful.
“Yes. Too much.”
“Can I help?”
She blinked. That was all he had to say? It should not surprise her that he was not laughing or judging or even trying to fix her. He was just offering support if she needed it.
“This helps.” She gestured around them. “Being here.”
“Then we will stay as long as you need.” His fingers grazed down her arm, collecting her hand in his. They’d discarded their gloves in the kitchen, and his bare skin sent haphazard thrills through her.
Their palms fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and his strong hand tugged her a little closer, bringing her to stand just beside him.
“Are you happy here, Mrs. Seymour?” he asked of a sudden. “On the island. In this house. I imagine it was hard to be pulled from your life when you married.”
Her eyes traced the treetops. “I love it,” she admitted, turning to face him.
Tracing his features in turn. Blue eyes, strong jaw, straight nose.
She found it was not hard to meet his gaze now.
Unlike with most people. “Sometimes, I feel as if I don’t fit, to be honest. With my staff and my neighbors .
. . but this home? It was the first place that felt like mine.
Even when Mrs. Trumble questions my every decision and my neighbors think me eccentric for not having spirits in the house. My dowry paid for it, you know?”
He shook his head, his eyes seeming to memorize her face as she spoke. Could he feel the same draw that she did? This attraction and more?
“It did. And so, in that way, it feels as if it is mine. And I . . . I cannot quite explain it. But I love it here. I would not leave for anything.”
“I am glad of it. That you are contented.” He moved closer. Just an inch. But there were scant few inches between them to begin with. His eyes dropped to her lips.
Her chin tilted up. Questions flooded her mind. Would he kiss her? Should she let him? What would kissing Sir Henry Ainsley feel like? What would her neighbors think should they learn of it? What—
All thoughts cut off when his eyes lifted to hers. Blessed silence blanketed her nerves, as she stared into their azure depths. Another inch was gone between them, but she hadn’t a clue if she or he had closed the space.
His free hand brushed back curls as the wind tossed them in her eyes. His fingers were cold as they grazed her cheekbone, but they left warmth in their wake.
And she wanted his kiss. Wanted more from Sir Henry than simple kindness or friendship.
A shout sounded below them, and the moment, pulled taught between them, snapped. Alice startled back, looking for the source of the yell. Sir Henry moved more slowly, stepping away and looking over the battlement. He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
“Evidently, Lord Danbury is very happy with his latest turn in pall mall,” he explained.
Alice’s chest still buzzed with the effects of nearly kissing Sir Henry. But the moment had passed. And though his eyes lingered on her, he went back to standing at her side, arms brushing.
“What is that beach called?” he asked, pointing to one south of the estate.
She squinted at the small, rocky beach peeking through the trees. “I believe that is Montclair Cove,” she said.
His expression was thoughtful. “You say you are happy here, but do you feel safe? With the smuggling I’ve heard so much about . . . does it affect you?”
“Affect, yes. Scare? No.” She bit the inside of her cheek, finding the words.
“I was blissfully unaware of it for a long while.” For the first time, she was wroth to bring up George in conversation.
“Commander Seymour kept it from our door and I heard nothing of it. And then he passed, and it was as if his death opened my home to the activity. Months later, several of my staff were hanged for their involvement, and I promised myself I would not allow it to happen again. They are all very aware of my feelings and that dismissal will come should I hear of anyone participating.” Her voice grew quiet.
“I am unsure if I am making much of a difference, though. Just last week I had to dismiss two footmen and a maid.”
That furrow remained between his brows as she spoke.
“I wish there was more I could do to end it entirely, but I have already increased wages and made clear my stance. So, yes, it affects me . . . but the smugglers themselves are not violent so I have never been afraid.”
He nodded. “I worry, even still.”
For her? That made her midsection feel as if the roiling waves were within her.
The wind picked up again, whistling around them as they stood, his thumb brushing distracting circles atop hers.
A few times, he tried to speak more, but the wind made it hard to converse with more than a few words.
So they simply remained there, side by side.
After a time, without hardly realizing what she was doing, she leaned her head against his shoulder. His chin settled atop her hair.
Somehow, beneath all the twisting and turning of her stomach and chest, there was a calmness to the moment. A feeling of peace and serenity. And something within her whispered that this, at least, was not a girlish feeling. This was real and deep.
Oh heavens. She might be falling in love with Henry Ainsley.