Page 31 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

D uring the morning ride along the beach, Anne noticed Victor was out of sorts after his ride with Freddy.

He appeared thoughtful and distracted, staring off into the distance, but when he looked at her there was a storm of emotion in his eyes that caused her breath to catch.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite identify what he was feeling.

Was he angry? Frustrated? Something else?

He was trying hard to keep it concealed, and none of those emotions made sense in the moment.

She asked him what was wrong. Perhaps it was tied to his discussion with Freddy about deceased fathers. However, he denied anything was amiss. Which only piqued her curiosity further.

Especially with the way he stared at her when anyone brought up the upcoming masquerade.

That stare had been so intense, even for him, that she couldn’t help but shiver under it.

It was a moment that had lasted mere seconds, but hours later, Anne still felt its effect on her.

No matter what she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling it had left behind.

Victor was her friend, her dearest friend in the world. There had never been any romantic feelings between them and that wasn’t about to start now. And yet, if anyone else had looked at her the way Victor had in that spine-tingling moment, she would have given them an earful. It was that intimate.

It also didn’t escape her that she didn’t tell him to quit it, like she would have with anyone else.

This was the second time this summer Victor had thrown her into a cloud of confusion after he had done something innocuous.

Weeks ago, he’d given her that gentle kiss on her cheek, yet the way her heart had pounded in response, he may as well have come up from behind and kissed her neck while grasping her waist.

It was all very confusing. Victor barely ever touched her. Yet when he did, the slightest brush of skin somehow burst her into flames.

Anne closed her eyes and fanned herself until the heat rising within her began to cool. This must have been due to loneliness. It wasn’t that it was Victor giving her this attention—it was because a man was.

After a post-luncheon nap, Anne left her bedroom freshened up in a white, linen afternoon dress and was still a bit groggy when she descended the stairs to reach the main floor.

Summerwood’s butler, Keane, was at the front door speaking to someone.

She hardly paid the scene any mind at first. However, when she passed by and her footsteps clicked on the floor, Keane called after her, “Lady Litchfield! A moment, if you may.”

Anne paused and turned around, a bit curious. “Yes?”

Keane approached her, stopped, and bowed. “Are you feeling refreshed?”

Anne smiled. “Oh, yes, there really is something special about the air here.”

Keane responded to her smile with his own.

“I agree, and I am quite fortunate to live here year-round. These came for you during your rest. This one just now.” He handed over a white envelope and grumbled about it being delivered at the improper door.

“And this one a few minutes ago.” He handed over a cream envelope.

Anne took the envelopes from the butler, thanked him, and opened them as she began walking down the hallway.

She often received invites for tea or dinner and she assumed that was what these were.

The first envelope, the one he had just received, did end up being an invite.

For dinner that evening at the Ashby residence.

Anne frowned. She and the children had been to the Ashby residence a few times this summer already.

Freddy and Mr. Ralph Ashby were such dear friends.

But she knew Mary had her eye on Mr. Lucas Ashby, and Mr. Felton Ashby still had his eye on Anne, based on the way he followed her around whenever their families were together.

He had, at least, apologized for his rude questioning at the ball at Summerwood and had been far more agreeable since.

Resigned to the fact her evening would be with the Ashbys, she then went to the cream envelope.

Was it a coincidence these letters had arrived only minutes apart?

That seemed unlikely. Perhaps whoever delivered the letters had forgotten about the second one and returned only minutes later with it.

The face of the second letter was blank, which was strange, but she attributed it to an error.

She pulled out a folded letter and immediately halted her steps.

It was another small ink drawing inside of a circle, just like the daisy from before. This time, it was a sketch of a woman, from her hip up, dancing with a gentleman, though his face was out of the circle frame. It was as if the viewer were watching from behind the gentleman’s left.

The man had broad shoulders and his left arm wrapped around the woman’s waist. He held her close in a lover’s embrace, and the woman looked up at him, her lips parted, her focus on her dance partner attentive.

Anne gasped because she realized the sketch was of her .

It looked exactly like her. Whoever had drawn this was exceptionally talented.

They’d gotten so many details correct, from the shape of her ear to the earrings she often wore, to the shape of her upper lip—one side of it was slightly narrower than the other side—even the little loose hairs around her hairline that drove her mad.

But again, the artist hadn’t written anything. He had no words for her, only pictures.

Did he have nothing to say? No explanation for why he was sending her drawings? Didn’t he want to sign his name so she’d know who he was?

And shouldn’t she have been disturbed by this? Whoever had drawn this had spent a lot of time studying her face.

There was a sound down the hall that caused her to look up.

Her stomach flipped as Victor walked out of a room talking over his shoulder, with Ollie, Evelyn, and the twins following behind.

The boys started running around the three adults and Evelyn begged them to calm down while Ollie tried speaking to his older brother over the boys’ loud giggles.

Anne refolded the drawing and put it back in its envelope and made her way to the others. Victor immediately spotted her, stared at her with that intense, green gaze of his that sent sparks along her skin, then put his attention back on Ollie.

“He made it out just in time,” Ollie said, though Anne had no clue who he was. “As he dropped from her window, Lady Greene appeared at it, covering herself only with a blanket, screeching about the ring he had lifted from her.” Ollie let out a howl of laughter.

“Ollie, please.” Evelyn gave him wide eyes before looking at the boys, who clearly, based on the way their heads bowed together, paid no attention to the adults. They were intently watching a ladybird that had found its way inside the house.

“What are you talking about?” Anne came to stand beside Evelyn. “Someone stole a ring from Lady Greene?” Anne wasn’t particularly fond of Lady Greene. The woman had become a widow after only a few years of marriage and had spent her time since bleeding her husband’s estate dry.

“We’re talking about my uncle.” Victor’s dark, deep voice pulled her attention up to him. The voice slid over her skin like silk ribbon and it caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.

“The one you don’t talk to?” Anne replied, shaking off the odd feeling.

Victor held her gaze and nodded.

Ollie began talking, but Anne couldn’t take her eyes off Victor.

He looked handsome, refreshed after their morning ride.

His black hair was back in its usual exact place as opposed to the windblown look he’d had earlier which, admittedly, Anne also found handsome in its own way.

And his emerald eyes didn’t leave hers, either.

They held on to her and, somehow, seemed to darken to a moss color. Warmth rolled slow in her stomach.

“You know I’m close with our uncle,” Ollie continued through Anne’s and Victor’s mutual staring, unaware.

“And he loves ripping off nobs. They don’t go after him because it would reach the newspapers.

Could you imagine Lady Greene telling the police she chased after him with hardly a stitch of clothing on?

The papers would go wild with that story!

” Ollie began howling in laughter again.

The loud laughter broke the spell, and Anne realized she had been holding her breath. Feeling her face heat, she looked over at Ollie and hoped her racing heart didn’t sound as loud as it felt.

“Ollie, we’re nobs,” Anne said.

But Ollie only shrugged. Then again, Ollie wasn’t really involved much in the aristocracy.

Unlike Dantes and Vivian, who embraced the nobility from which they had been outcast at one point, Ollie and Evelyn were mostly uninvolved, even though her father was a baron and his grandfather the Duke of Invermark.

But Evelyn was an art conservator and Ollie had quit The Harp & Thistle to be home with their twins.

Because he was one-third owner of The Harp & Thistle, he still reaped the profits, which she knew irritated Victor to no end.

“What is that?” Victor asked, looking at the envelope in Anne’s hand. Quickly, she felt to make sure the cream envelope was hidden behind the white one.

“A dinner invite from the Ashbys,” she replied.

He lifted an eyebrow. “And you are going?” Victor never mentioned Mr. Ashby to her, despite the man’s interest in her, which she was realizing was a bit odd. Then again, she didn’t offer much up about it, either, which was also strange for her. Normally, she told him everything.

“Yes,” she replied. “Of course, the children will be joining. Would you like to join us?” She hurried the question out, feeling uncharacteristically flustered.