Page 36 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

For a bit, they simply stared at each other. The rain and fog was so thick, it hid them from the world. They couldn’t see anyone outside of their little corner of the world, and no one could see inside it, either.

He didn’t need to speak because his eyes told her everything. This man, one of few words, bared his soul to her through that life-changing gaze. She saw what he felt for her, what he would always feel for her.

Finally, Mr. McNab spoke. “I will wait for you for as long as it takes.”

*

July 1899

Anne jolted awake and had to catch her breath. Had she had another fever dream? Her hand flew to her forehead. No. She was fine. She wasn’t sick this time.

She thought she had remembered most of that day, but apparently, there was a lot she had genuinely forgotten about.

Most importantly, those last words Victor had uttered.

That final promise to her. It hadn’t been wordless, like she had always recalled.

He had stated it. Quite clearly. But she had buried it so far down into the abyss of her memory, it had lain there, nearly forgotten.

As Anne swallowed to again attempt to catch her breath, the door opened.

Dutton entered, looking cheery. “Ah, good morning, Lady Litchfield.”

“What year is it?” Anne hastened the words out.

Dutton flung the curtains open and the stream of light caused Anne to squint momentarily.

“Very funny, my lady. Usually, you have some coffee first before you start jesting with me.”

“I’m serious.”

Dutton turned around at this and frowned at Anne. She hurried over and pressed the back of her hand to Anne’s forehead. “Are you ill again?”

“I just had a very vivid dream and…and I’m quite shaken from it.” Anne shivered. It had been so realistic, she’d actually felt Victor’s hand holding hers. And felt Victor lifting her from the mud, and Victor’s closeness. His voice had sounded real, his presence had felt real.

Covertly, she looked at the place in the bed beside her, as if only his presence there could explain it.

Of course, he wasn’t there. Why would he be?

Dutton crossed her arms and was trying not to look too concerned, but Anne knew her behavior was quite strange right now, and of course her lady’s maid would be worried.

Anne took a deep breath. “Forgive me. It was a dream, but it was also an old memory. One I had forgotten about.”

“Interesting. So, it was a dream, but the dream had actually happened?”

“Yes.” Anne swallowed. Forgetting all of that had been her protecting herself, that was clear. But why was her mind now trying to force this all back to her?

“What was the dream, or the memory, I should say?” Dutton asked, unaware of Anne’s internal panic.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Dutton twisted her mouth in thought. “It isn’t my place to argue with you, so I won’t. As much as I may want to.”

Anne couldn’t help but smile at this.

“However, I will say. It is quite unusual for a dream to be a real memory. I would have to say your mind wanted you to think about it for some reason.”

Anne looked down at her lap.

“Something for you to mull over, I suppose. Anyway, do you recall what today is?

Anne’s mind was still foggy from sleep. She turned her eyes up to Dutton.

“It’s the masquerade!” Dutton spread her arms wide with an explosive voice. She loved getting Anne ready for masquerades.

This caused Anne to perk up. “Oh! I must start getting ready now.” She flew out of bed and over to her vanity.

Getting ready for Lord and Lady Bell’s masquerade was always an all-day event.

First, she would breakfast, then bathe, then she and Vivian and Evelyn would spend hours on their hair and makeup, getting dressed, getting excited, and then they would leave.

It didn’t sound like much, but it somehow always took up the entire day.

A knock on her door caused her pause.

“Yes?” Anne shouted out over her shoulder.

“That wasn’t your bedroom door, my lady,” Dutton said in a low voice. “That was the door you share with Mr. McNab.”

Anne felt her face go hot. She was still in her pajamas.

But it was also only Victor. Who cared if he saw her first thing? He wasn’t a lover or anything like that.

“Let him in,” she decided.

Dutton pulled back. “My lady, are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

Dutton gave a hesitant nod before going over to the door.

Anne watched the scene in the mirror at her vanity.

Needing something to distract herself from her nerves, she opened her drawer, pulled out the hairbrush, and started brushing her hair without Dutton’s usual assistance.

As she did this, she glanced at the open drawer.

A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance was right on top. Never fall in love had been underlined and circled by her multiple times. Recently, she had found herself needing the reminder of this right before bed each night.

That blasted dream had exposed why.

All of this was ridiculous. Victor was only a friend . Despite that silly afternoon ten years ago. She slammed the drawer shut.

“Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were just waking.” Victor appeared behind her, freshly dressed and washed for the day already.

Her heart galloped like Onyx in one of his erratic moments. She had to force a blank face and shutter her brain off from the list of rules and the dream—or had it been a nightmare?—she had just woken from. “It’s quite all right, Victor. Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes, I have found I sleep quite well here.”

She smiled at him in the mirror. “It’s the sea air. Isn’t it exquisite?”

He nodded, silent, those green eyes intense.

She cleared her throat. “You are still set on staying home tonight?”

“Yes. I don’t understand the appeal of masquerades, to be honest with you.”

She gave him a single nod, as this didn’t surprise her at all. Frankly, she couldn’t imagine Victor dressed up in a costume.

“You said you’re going as a swan?” he asked.

She held his gaze in the mirror and her irritating heart started quickening again under his scrutiny. Blast it all and that silly dream, too! “Dutton,” she said over her shoulder, “will you bring my costume out? I’d like to show Victor.”

“Yes, my lady.” Dutton disappeared from view and for a moment, Anne and Victor returned to staring at each other in the mirror. Finally, she forced herself to look away and went back to brushing her hair to give herself something to do other than stare at him like a madwoman.

“May I?” Victor asked, causing her to pause.

This time, she turned around to look at him directly. “May you what?”

He didn’t respond, and instead lifted the hairbrush out of her hand, his fingers gently brushing against hers. He held her gaze, but all she could do was raise her eyebrows at him. He wanted to brush her hair?

Completely thrown off by this, all she could do was turn to face the mirror again and let him.

While she tried to comprehend what was happening, Victor started to brush her hair.

Gently, slowly. He swept the soft bristles over the blonde locks and down her back, and he seemed to be engrossed in it.

His face held little expression as he did it, but his eyes followed the movement of the brush as it swept through her long hair.

Anne studied him the entire time. He had, of course, never seen her first thing in the morning before. He had never seen her hair undone.

After a few more slow and gentle strokes Victor set the brush to the side, looking at her in the reflection of the mirror once again.

Anne assumed he was done. However, he surprised her greatly as he began to run his fingers through her hair.

But this time, he didn’t break their eye contact as he combed through.

This admittedly quite inappropriate and intimate moment would have been exceptionally bizarre if he were anyone else. But instead of her body wanting to pull away from him as it should have, she tingled with pleasure at his touch, and sparks ran up and down her spine.

She was sure she would purr like a cat if she opened her mouth.

“You know, I’ve never brushed a woman before,” he said, holding her gaze in the mirror.

On the surface, it seemed like an offhand comment to make conversation. But the way he’d said it caused her pause. His eyes looked brighter than usual, and the way his gaze held on to hers told her that he was sharing something important. There was hidden meaning behind it, she was sure of it.

She chuckled nervously. “Why does it seem like you’re giving me a clue to something?”

Amusement danced in his eyes. But he didn’t say another word.

Anne’s heart seemed to still. “Victor, what are you saying?” It came out a whisper. Was he telling her that he…

No, that was impossible.

Dutton swept past the reflection of the mirror, ending the moment. “Here we are,” the lady’s maid said in a singsong voice. Farther back in the room, Dutton began laying out garments over the top of the bedspread.

While Dutton paid them no attention, Victor stopped combing Anne’s hair with his fingers.

Her breathing had quickened, Anne suddenly realized.

Victor then crouched beside her chair, lifted her left hand, and kissed the back of it.

His lips felt soft and warm against her skin, and his beard scratched her in a delightful way. Her heart leapt.

“I should go see this costume of yours,” he said in a deep whisper. Mischief danced in his green eyes.

“All right,” she whispered back, almost in a daze. It felt like she had been hypnotized and was just waking up from it.

She had to shake herself out of it, whatever it was. As soon as Victor’s back was to her, she lightly slapped her cheeks. “Get a hold of yourself,” she chided to her reflection. What was the matter with her? And what in the blazes had just happened?

Victor called out from the other side of the room. “Incredible work! Let’s see. You have a white, feather eye mask; white, feather wings; and a white dress with some feathers on it as well. This must have taken months to create,” he said with genuine awe in his voice.

“It’s too bad you aren’t going,” Anne called back over her shoulder, hoping desperately that she sounded normal and not as shaken up as she truly was. She quickly fanned herself and rose out of her seat, her legs faltering for the first steps.

“Don’t worry,” he replied when she reached his side.

“I’ve got to catch up on some work-related things.

You won’t even notice my absence.” He lifted the eye mask up and placed it over her eyes, and he tilted his head, as if in study.

She blinked through the mask. Why did it feel as if he were memorizing what she looked like?