Page 16 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

A fter a restless night, Victor found himself in the unfortunate situation of waking at the first morning light.

With stubbornness that could have rivaled a mule’s, he refused to get up at such an ungodly hour and kept his eyes shut tightly.

However, as the sky became lighter, and sleep continued to evade him, he relented and sat up with a grumble, accepting his fate.

Victor washed for the day and dressed in his usual black suit with dark-gray paisley waistcoat and white, button-up shirt under that, then combed his black hair neatly.

Though he had trimmed his beard the day before to look a bit more polished, he couldn’t bring himself to trim his hair.

It looked better a few inches longer than the really nearly-shorn styles most preferred these days, and thus he slicked it back as usual.

As he inspected himself, he thought of his grandfather’s full head of gray hair.

Looking back over his shoulder to ensure no one else was in the room—not that there should have been—he leaned forward to inspect his hairline.

No grays. Yet.

Satisfied, he made his way downstairs to the dining room, where he was served a larger breakfast than he normally had.

By himself, he consumed three eggs, two pieces of toast, four sausages, one cup of coffee, and one glass of water.

The meal ended with a promise to himself to eat extra vegetables during the other meals.

Now finished, he debated what to do while everyone slept, but the butler, Keane, answered that easy enough.

As a footman began clearing away his empty plates, Keane appeared.

He was younger than Vivian and Dantes’s butler back in London, Heaton, but he was mostly bald now except for a circular wisp of light-brown hair that reminded Victor of a medieval monk.

The butler gave a small bow. “I trust everything was to your satisfaction?”

As if he would complain about food he didn’t pay for or cook himself. “Yes.” Victor swiped at his mouth with a white, cloth napkin before the footman took it. “I usually don’t eat this much in the morning, but I found I couldn’t resist.”

Keane smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. I’ll be sure to pass it on.”

After Victor rose from his chair, Keane escorted him out of the room. “I presume you are heading to the stables now? Lady Litchfield mentioned you were to go riding together.”

Victor frowned at the man as they stopped in the hallway. “She’s already awake?”

Keane gave one elegant nod. “You may get to the stables by heading out that way.” The butler indicated down the hallway. “Would you like me to show you?”

Victor turned down the offer and went in the direction the butler had provided. He quickly found his way outside. The sky was now a dusty gray-blue and the grass damp with dew. The air felt cool in his lungs, and he could nearly taste the sea salt and grass.

The stables were easy enough to find, and as he began to approach them, a black blur shot across the fenced-in paddock.

A woman atop the glossy, black horse wore a moss-green riding habit consisting of a short but masculine suit-like jacket with a sidesaddle skirt.

Medium-green soutache looped around the edges of the jacket and skirt hem.

Her blonde hair, in a low knot, was topped with a small, black top hat with a black bow on its side.

Anne, evidently unaware of Victor’s approach, leaned forward with concentrated determination.

She shouted out commands to the horse and the horse kicked up dried dirt as he went into a full gallop, admittedly striking a bit of fear in Victor’s heart.

With terror tinged in his mouth, he watched as, a moment later, the horse soared over a log fence as if it flew with wings.

Letting out a breath of relief, Victor arrived at the paddock fencing and rested his arms atop it to watch. At the same time, two stablehands came out of the stables and, without appearing to notice Victor, mirrored his stance.

Anne was attracting an audience, and Victor discovered he really didn’t like it.

Anne and the glossy, black horse cantered around for a bit, but then the horse began galloping again, flying over the log fence as if it were nothing at all.

Victor was in utter awe. He had never seen her ride before, though he knew it was a favorite pastime of hers.

Now, he wished he knew how to ride. Then he could be in there with her while those two cads down the fence watched them , not her .

The men, both sporting tweed flatcaps, didn’t take their eyes off Anne as she kept exercising her horse with expertise.

The stablehands talked to each other in hushed tones, but Victor wasn’t an idiot.

He could tell by the low tone, low chuckles, and raised eyebrows they were talking about her in a lewd way.

For decades, he’d had to overhear what men said about women behind their backs.

At best, it was admiring women’s bodies, at worst, crass fantasies.

They often made those same eyebrow wiggles the stablehands were making right now.

Doing his best to ignore the swirling anger and jealousy, Victor cleared his throat loudly while giving the two men a deadly stare. When they spotted him, they jumped.

Both men swallowed, tipped their hats at Victor, then hurried back inside the stable without uttering a word, knowing they had been caught red-handed.

Anne and her horse flew over the low log jumping fence again and when they came to a stop, Anne finally noticed him.

The moment her eyes met his, his heart hitched.

“Victor!” she shouted with a grin, waving a hand above her head. As she directed her horse over in his direction, Victor found a latched gate and went through it.

The horse came to a stop at a respectable distance. Old, faint memories of being taught how to approach an unknown horse—never from the back, and always calmly—echoed in his mind from the distant past.

Victor slowly approached woman and beast. “That was quite incredible to watch, Anne,” Victor said, and he meant it. He wasn’t one to compliment, but he felt compelled to compliment her in the moment. “I had no idea you were such a talented horsewoman. I’m sorry I’ve never seen you before.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Thank you, Victor. It was nothing, though. Just a little bit of exercise.”

“If you say so. May I help you down?” He reached up to her and she paused, her eyebrows rising, but then nodded in agreement. He clasped his hands around her waist and lifted her easily off the animal, then brought her down to the ground directly in front of him.

She looked up at him, her face flushed. Her gloved hands had braced against his shoulders. Realizing this herself, she pulled them back as if she had touched fire.

“Are you all right?” he asked with a frown.

Anne blinked up at him several times before taking a few steps back.

She pulled off one of her tan gloves then pressed a hand to her cheek.

“Yes. Riding is vigorous exercise.” Her flush deepened, however.

“Would you like to meet Onyx?” She turned away to pet the stallion’s neck. “He’s very gentlemanly and loves pets.”

Victor hesitated but reached out to pet the horse, too. Onyx’s ears flicked and he turned his big head a bit so his eye could see Victor and Anne.

She watched Victor for moment and then tore her gaze away. “Why don’t you get acquainted with Onyx? I’ll be right back.”

Victor watched her drape the long side of her riding skirt over her left arm. He could just barely see the trouser-like part of her ensemble underneath the skirt as she walked away and disappeared into the stables.

“Tell me, Onyx,” Victor said lowly. “How does an old man like me woo a pretty lady like her?”

Onyx pulled his top lip back as if laughing, then let out a snort.

Victor scratched behind the horse’s ear, which seemed to please the animal.

Though Victor wasn’t an expert on horses, it was clear to him Onyx was special.

He looked strong but lean, and his coat, mane, and tail were all a healthy, glossy black.

As Victor began petting Onyx’s neck, winning a few more happy snorts from the horse, Anne reemerged from the stables, leading a white horse with brown spots. Onyx let out a whinny and jumped a bit on his front hooves. When Anne stopped by Victor, the horse on her lead went up to nuzzle Onyx.

“This is Pancake.” Anne gave the new horse a gentle pat on her side. “She’s the mare you’ll be on today.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Pancake.”

“Yes.” Anne smiled. “Don’t let Onyx fool you—he’s a spirited horse and not for a beginner. Pancake is the horse Mary usually rides, as she is very sweet and docile. It is difficult to upset her.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the stablehands peeking out around the door. They snickered and ducked back in when Victor scowled at them.

“To be clear,” Victor said, still petting Onyx, “you want me riding a young lady’s mare. Named Pancake.”

Anne let out a squeak of a laugh, then cleared her throat. “Yes. She is also Onyx’s sweetheart.”

Victor’s eyelids lowered along with the corners of his mouth.

“If you wish to learn how to ride, which is a requirement of the aristocracy, I suggest you start with a horse that doesn’t give a fig about anything.”

Pancake flicked her tail, as if agreeing.

“Onyx seems far more fitting for me,” Victor replied.

Anne considered the black stallion. “There has been more than one time where he has reared up with no warning beforehand. I knew what to do in those situations. Would you?”

“No,” he admitted. Unfortunately. As Pancake’s giant, horsey nose went to Victor’s ear to sniff him, he relented. “Very well. Pancake it is.”

Anne let out a small laugh again and she led Pancake away from Onyx. As if understanding what this meant, Onyx meandered away and began nibbling at tufts of grass he was able to reach just beyond the fence line.