Page 23 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

A nne walked arm in arm with Freddy and Mary as they approached Summerwood’s ballroom.

Light, orchestral music floated in the air and blended with the hum of the crowd.

French doors along one side of the large room were open to let the cool, sea air in.

Moonlight danced along the watery horizon, as if it couldn’t help but swing and sway to the string instruments.

As they greeted Vivian, Dantes, and the Duke of Chalworth, Anne recalled the children being young and sneaking around during dinner parties, watching the festivities from the stairway in their pajamas, as if Anne and Bernard couldn’t see them.

And she recalled all those times they’d begged to go to balls, too, but instead had had to stay home with the governess or nanny.

Though Freddy was still too young to attend the ball past the first few hours, this would be the first ball Mary would be allowed to attend in its entirety.

It was a major milestone and Mary had been vibrating with anticipation all day.

Anne smiled to herself as her children let go to disappear into the crowd on their own, with the governess Miss Stewart trailing Mary.

Anne already knew Freddy was seeking out Mr. Ralph Ashby, or one of his uncles if the youngest Mr. Ashby had not yet arrived.

Mary, meanwhile, shone in a dress of silver and blue changeable silk, and as she made her way around the room with Miss Stewart, who wore a plain, brown gown, as one would expect of a governess, people took notice of the young woman.

It was hard not to notice Mary—she was growing up to be quite the beauty.

But it was hard for Anne to accept her little girl was nearly an adult now.

As a footman walked by, Anne lifted a glass of champagne from his tray and downed it quickly.

“I didn’t realize your daughter was out, Lady Litchfield.” A man’s voice caused Anne to turn. It was Mr. Felton Ashby, the eldest of the Ashby sons. He looked quite handsome in a tuxedo and gold-rimmed spectacles.

Anne knew the Ashby father had passed some years back, and Mr. Felton Ashby was, in a way, the father figure for the boys.

Freddy had told her the eldest Mr. Ashby had remained unmarried in order to help his mother, as Mr. Ralph Ashby had been only a tot when their father had passed from old age.

But now, Mr. Ralph Ashby was fifteen years and didn’t need the attention a young tot required.

And the other brothers were, of course, older as well.

Anne couldn’t help but admire the eldest Mr. Ashby for being so involved in his brothers’ lives.

It reminded her of Victor. And Victor had come out of that experience a responsible, good person.

Surely, Mr. Ashby had, too—how could someone not?

And would Mr. Ashby be seeking a bride now that his involvement with his brothers has lessened?

“She’s not out.” Anne smiled up at him. “Mary does not come out until next year. This is the first ball she’s been allowed to attend in full, in fact. As you can imagine, she’s quite excited.”

“Yes, I imagine so.” He looked down and held her gaze for a moment. “Forgive me, but I have a bit of an intrusive question I’ve been trying to answer for myself since we met yesterday.”

Anne blinked at his forwardness. “Oh?”

Mr. Ashby let out a small laugh and looked a bit sheepish, with a slight blush rising on his cheek. “Ralph insists you are Lord Litchfield and Lady Mary’s birth mother. But I insist that is an impossibility, and you must be their stepmother. Which is the truth?”

Anne frowned, trying to understand where Mr. Ashby’s assumption had come from. “Why, because of their dark hair?” Both Freddy and Mary took after Bernard in that regard.

Mr. Ashby hesitated. “That, and you are far too young to have a daughter who is about to come out.”

Unable to help herself, Anne lifted her eyebrows sky high. “How old do you think I am, Mr. Ashby?”

“About my age?” he replied with liquid ease.

“And how old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

Anne’s mouth fell open a bit, but she shut it quickly. She was actually forty. And she noticed Mr. Ashby fit one of her rules: any gentleman she put her sights upon should not be more than ten years beyond her own age.

But she also wasn’t a young, naive girl. This was an obvious attempt at flattery.

“Mr. Ashby,” Anne said as he grabbed two passing champagnes and handed one to her, “is that your style of flirtation?”

He was taking a sip as she asked and coughed.

He then cleared his throat. “Forgive me. Am I that transparent? I suppose yes. However, it was a genuine question I turned into a vehicle of flirtation.” He grinned, and Anne noted his grin was quite attractive.

Genuine, not forced. “I suppose I have been found out.” He gave her a small bow, but there was an amused twinkle in his eye.

Anne gave him a skeptical look but softened it with a small smile. “No, I am not their stepmother, Mr. Ashby. Trust me, I was there when they were born.”

Mr. Ashby chuckled and gave her a long look over that made her ears feel warm.

As she didn’t know what to do next, she put her attention back on the crowd and sipped her champagne.

After a moment, she noticed Freddy and Mr. Ralph Ashby talking to Victor.

She had never seen Victor at a ball before.

And here he was, his beard and black hair trimmed neatly—more so than usual—all while wearing a rather nice tuxedo.

Forget the surprise of him attending a ball.

She had never seen him in a tuxedo before! And he was quite the sight.

Something inside of her leapt.

“May I ask another question, my lady?”

Anne watched Victor for a moment longer before forcing herself to look away. “Yes, Mr. Ashby?”

Mr. Ashby’s gaze went from her to Victor. “May I inquire as to your relationship with Mr. McNab?” He paused. “I do not wish to insert myself into a preexisting romance.”

Anne’s face went red hot. “Oh! My late husband was Lady Vivian’s brother. And Lady Vivian’s husband is Mr. McNab’s brother.” She had explained this already to Mr. Ashby and his mother the previous day, but perhaps she had told them too much information at once.

Mr. Ashby took a sip of champagne and then said, “Ah, that’s right. I tried following along yesterday when we were all introduced on the pier. So that is the extent of your familiarity with Mr. McNab?”

Anne swallowed. This was quite the question.

Yet could she blame him for asking? This was all rather different than things had been when she’d been a debutante.

It made sense to ask pointed questions of a widow before uncomfortable situations arose.

“I would say Mr. McNab is one of my closest friends. But as to your question, if there is a preexisting romance, there most definitely is not.” Nor would there be, but she didn’t feel that would be worth including.

Mr. Ashby stared off for a moment and then he bowed. “Pertinent information for me to know, Lady Litchfield.” When he stood straight again, he said, “May I be so bold as to ask for a dance later this evening?”

Anne felt an old ghost of girlish giddiness. “You may.” She offered her hand.

Mr. Ashby pressed a kiss to the tops of her fingers. “I look forward to it.” He let her hand go and took a few steps back without taking his gaze off of her. He bowed briefly again. “Until then,” he said.

“Until then.” She curtsied. She watched as he made his way through the crowd to where Victor, Freddy, and Mr. Ralph Ashby had been, but the gentlemen were no longer there.

Mr. Ashby seemed to realize this too, as he then looked around the crowd.

His attention seemed to land on something and he began going in a different direction.

Anne bobbed her head to see, finally realizing it was Ollie, Evelyn, Mary, and Miss Stewart.

Mr. Ashby approached them and though she couldn’t hear what he said, Ollie and Mr. Ashby shaking hands told her he was greeting them all.

With nothing else to do, Anne began making her way around the ballroom to see who was in attendance that evening.

She stopped and talked to many familiar faces.

There was Lord and Lady Bell, with whom she spoke with for a good while about Freddy’s schooling and Mary’s upcoming debut.

They had three children, all of whom had married in the last few years.

Lord Bell was a viscount with a country estate not far from Summerwood and the families often interacted during the summer.

Anne also crossed paths with the elderly Mr. Thornwood and Mr. Pratt, friends of her father’s, and of course, the Duke of Chalworth’s, hence their presence.

Every year, they asked if her parents would be visiting, and every year she told them no .

Ever since she’d married Bernard, her mother and father had taken a step back from her life.

Eventually, she made a full circle about the room and ended with her daughter and Miss Stewart.

“Have you seen any of your friends, dear?” Anne asked Mary, who continued to look about the room with utter awe. “I know you and Lady Cecile enjoy each other’s company and I thought I saw here around here somewhere.”

“Oh, yes! I saw her, Mama. Did you know she is getting her dresses for next season from Doucet? Her Mama took her straight to Paris for the fittings!”

“Oh my,” Anne responded, knowing she should sound impressed but not so much that her daughter would be jealous.

Though Anne knew well enough there was probably a little bit of that jealousy in there somewhere, no matter what she said.

“How nice that you’re able to easily drop in to your dressmakers.

Imagine having to do all of that travel for dresses! ”

Mary’s eyes brightened at this. “You’re right. That would be awful!” And then, looking past Anne, she said, “Oh, hello, Uncle Victor!”