Page 14 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

V ictor clenched his teeth so hard, he was sure they would shatter. His brother had gone way out of line this time.

Anne stood frozen in their apparently shared doorway, staring up at him with giant eyes and flushed cheeks. She was clearly not pleased with this arrangement.

Not that he was happy about it, either. An unmarried man and unmarried woman—widow or not—should absolutely not have had connecting bedrooms! It was the height of impropriety, and both Dantes and Vivian would have been well aware of that.

He had to think quick on what to do. He didn’t want to get so furious with his brother that Anne might take it personally. Nor did he want to direct his upset at Vivian, as she was the hostess and had clearly planned this the moment she’d realized he’d come.

Based on the veil of smugness on her face as she stood behind Anne, though, she was well aware of his inability to utter a negative word. He swore to himself internally at being outmaneuvered.

Victor looked back down to Anne and held her gaze. She stared back, her own jaw set tight. They came to a silent understanding, gave each other a slight nod, and closed their respective doors at the same time.

Immediately, he could hear Anne’s high-pitched angry voice, though it was muffled enough he couldn’t pick up on much of what she said aside from, “What game are you playing here, exactly?”

Victor spun around and took three long strides over to Dantes, who wore an infuriatingly blank expression on his face. His hands were shoved into his trouser pockets, too. Dantes was far too relaxed for the moment, and it only made Victor’s ire worse.

Victor stopped before Dantes and crossed his arms. “I’m not doing this.”

Dantes grinned, the old, deep scar slicing into his face stretching with it. “You don’t have a choice. The other bedrooms are already taken. The remaining empty bedrooms are being redecorated.”

“You’re lying,” Victor said darkly, and he followed it with a scowl. They were both well into adulthood, but Victor still knew what would strike fear into his younger brother.

It worked. Finally, Dantes cleared his throat and rubbed at his nose. No trace of the smile remained. “Look, I know you’re not happy about this—”

“No, I’m really not.”

“—but a few minutes ago, we were discussing you and Anne again. And maybe this is , in fact, a good idea.”

Victor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, this is highly inappropriate. In every sense of the word.”

“Such a rule follower,” Dantes said. “Except when it suits you better not to be.”

Victor knew he was referring to the years they’d lived in Whitechapel, which obviously had been a completely different situation. The decisions Victor had made as a boy regarding fighting or stealing or whatever else he’d had to do had been, quite literally, the difference between life and death.

This situation was not.

But he also knew, if Dantes had his mind made up on something and Vivian supported him on it, there was nothing he could do.

With a sigh, Victor made his way over to his small traveling trunk to finish removing his items. Dantes had insisted on having a valet help with it, but Victor had refused. He had no valet of his own.

Dantes went to lean against the wall in a place within Victor’s line of sight. He lowered his volume. “You just told me a moment ago you came this summer to determine if you wanted your friendship with Anne to become something more.”

Victor didn’t look up as he began pulling out the remaining button-up shirts and setting them atop his bed.

“No, if you were listening, the main reason I came here was—as I’ve said numerous times already—to reacquaint myself with the aristocracy.

I am confident Fergus still has many years left in him, but I do not wish to be thrust unprepared into that life, either.

” He took an armful of shirts and made his way over to a large armoire and pulled open a drawer.

“In regard to Anne, you are correct. I don’t know what affections I have for her and would like to figure that out. ”

“Right,” Dantes said, though his voice sounded unsure. “Forgive me, but how do you not know how you feel about her?”

Victor lowered his eyelids. “How many months did it take you to accept you were in love with your wife?” He only realized how that sounded as the words left his lips.

A huge, mocking grin spread across Dantes’s face as Victor shut the drawer a bit too hard. “I’m going to let you stew on that one for a minute, Victor.”

“That is not what I meant,” Victor said with a warning voice, but he did have to concentrate on ensuring he did not deny this too quickly.

“Anne and I have been good friends for a long time now. I am fairly certain that is all it is, but since I am already here for the season, perhaps it’s worth examining, since I never have before. ”

Dantes laughed and shook his head. Further denial would not help Victor’s case, so he decided to let it lie.

There was a time, years ago and in the midst of a downpour, he had made a promise to Anne.

Admittedly, the conversation had been vague—few words were said between them—and then it had never been brought up again. But he had seen that look in her eye—she understood what he was implying.

At the time, she’d been separated from Winthrop. Then Winthrop had died and she’d had to go through the required two years of mourning. It could have been brought up after that, but it never had been. And now, nearly a decade had gone by.

And in that time, he had grown to care for her very much. But was it as a friend? Or something more?

That is what he needed to figure out.

It didn’t help that Victor didn’t understand women in matters of the heart, which was his own fault.

The difference between Dantes and Victor in this regard was Dantes had once been in love long before he’d met Vivian. Dantes had known what that felt like.

And Ollie had once been a self-proclaimed scoundrel. He’d known what attraction felt like.

Victor had never been in love. He was never a scoundrel.

He didn’t know what love or attraction felt like. Maybe he would mix up the two and make an arse of himself.

What he did know was when women batted their eyelashes at him and leaned forward to expose their cleavage, it was to get free pints. He wasn’t that daft.

“Victor?” Dantes’s voice brought Victor back to the present issue at hand.

Victor placed his attention on his brother.

“So, you’re going to examine this friendship you have with Anne, then, this summer?” Dantes ended this with that infuriating, knowing grin.

Victor turned away, afraid his face would give away how much of his mind the subject had been taking up as of late. “I need to finish unpacking. Get out.”

*

It was late evening and the first day at Summerwood was coming to an end. Anne, exhausted, was up in her bedroom with Dutton, who was helping her ready for sleep.

As Dutton pulled the nightgown over Anne’s head, Anne glanced at the locked door connecting to Victor’s room.

After the discovery of the connecting doors earlier, they had not yet had a chance to discuss the situation.

Victor was, by far, the most practical of the McNab brothers, and she also trusted him explicitly.

She didn’t need to worry about him acting improperly.

It helped, too, that he was clearly as displeased with the situation as she was. More, in fact. The look on his face when he’d realized what that door led to! She had never seen him look so furious before.

Actually, he was so furious by it that she couldn’t help but wonder—was it because of the door, or was it because she was behind the door?

Yes, it was a bit improper, but they weren’t two eighteen-year-olds, either.

They had no scandalous past that would make the situation uncomfortable. And she was a widow, which allowed her far more freedoms than married women or even spinsters her age.

Still studying the locked door, she bit her bottom lip despite her attempts at brushing this all off.

Why Vivian had done this, she hadn’t the faintest notion. But it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal if the redecorating excuse was true. Maybe it hadn’t been intentional—it had just so happened that Anne and Victor had these rooms because there was nowhere else to put them.

Now she felt a bit bad for going off on Vivian. She’d been so embarrassed by Victor’s reaction, she’d taken it out on Vivian.

Promising herself to apologize in the morning, Anne crossed the room to her wash table to wash her face and brush her teeth for the night.

“Would you like the windows open, my lady?” Dutton said to Anne’s reflection in the mirror.

“Yes, please. Thank you, Dutton.”

The windows were quite large and opened outward with a turning handle. Dutton cranked one window open, and while Anne completed her tasks, moved down the line of widows.

Fresh, cool, salty air rushed in, billowing the lace curtains aside each window. The heat that had been captured quickly began to dissipate.

Anne climbed into bed, saying goodnight to Dutton, and the lady’s maid snuffed out the lamps, enveloping the room in darkness.

After spending a minute or so shifting into comfort, Anne finally let out a sigh and clasped her hands over her stomach.

Ten minutes later, she was still wide awake.

Then it was fifteen minutes. Twenty.

There was a very faint noise and slight shake from footsteps in the adjacent bedroom. Anne’s eyelids flew open. The only reason she could sense it was because the room was so still and quiet. Next door, Victor was puttering about, likely preparing for sleep as well.

Anne sat up and when she heard more footsteps, flung her legs over the edge of the bed and went over to her armoire, where her housecoat was.

After tying it on with a few quick movements, Anne tiptoed over to the door. She wanted to confront Victor, find out why it was so terrible for his bedroom to be next to hers.