Page 39 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)
T he invitation gave Victor entrance to the masquerade of the enormous country home—it was made of stone and had been built in the seventeenth century—and he eventually found himself in an enormous ballroom.
There were stone pillars around the edge of the room, three enormous crystal chandeliers that hung overhead, and a long wall of French doors, which led out to the gardens.
The room was mostly being used for dancing, with a full orchestra and some masked wallflowers fanning themselves around the edge.
Victor looked around with haste, hoping to avoid his brothers and their wives.
He was fully concealed from head to toe but didn’t want to take any risk.
And, of course, he wished to find Anne as soon as possible.
As he slid through the room, he noted the costumes around him. Though there were many Venetian-style masks and costumes, there were also historical people and literary characters. There were kings and queens, spirits, animals, and countless others he couldn’t identify.
Victor slid past Georgian ladies and gents with white-powdered wigs and watched the couples swirling around the dance floor. Dantes and Vivian appeared, about to fly by. Victor ducked behind a tall, powdered wig, accidentally bumping into the woman wearing it.
“Oh!” She turned around quickly. She had on a small, blue eye mask and a pale-blue dress with hips several feet wide. How had she gotten through doors?
“Forgive me,” Victor said with a small bow, quickly checking to ensure he was not in sight of Dantes and Vivian.
The woman gave him a slow look over and began fanning herself quickly with her white, lacy fan.
“You are quite forgiven, mon seigneur .” She added a sultry laugh at the end and reached up to his arm, running her hand slowly along his bicep.
Then she looked back up through her lashes, giving him a wry smile. “Heading out to the garden?”
Victor cleared his throat and stepped back. “Yes.”
“That’s where all the fun happens. May I join you?” The masked woman took a step toward him to close the space once more.
“No.” This situation was making him rather uncomfortable, and a bit guilty, too. He was here for one reason and one reason only, thus he dismissed the woman with another bow. “Good evening,” he said, turning away and hastening out the door.
Outside, relieved to have escaped, Victor took in his surroundings.
The night air smelled like a fresh meadow and was cool as it breezed behind his full mask.
Guests mulled around with glasses of crisp wine and bubbly champagne.
The stone patio he found himself on was quite large, with numerous footmen about.
Stairs led down to the grassy green lawn and an extensive garden beyond that.
Lanterns hung above both the patio and the lawn below, strung between decorated posts to provide a low, golden light to the party.
He also noted part of the garden was not lit and under a blanket of darkness.
But he looked everywhere and could not find a swan.
Two gentlemen nearby, one a cowboy and the other a pope, partook in light conversation based on the tones of their voices. Victor went over to them. “Forgive my intrusion, but have either of you seen a swan in attendance?”
The two men looked at each other. The cowboy replied first. “Yes, though I believe I’ve seen more than one.”
“I think there are three, perhaps?” the pope said.
Hiding his frustration, Victor thanked them and resumed his search.
What would he do, though, when he did find Anne? How would he approach her, how would he talk to her without giving his true identity away?
He went to the stone balustrades and rested his hands upon the rough surface. Below, more people mulled about the garden. A violinist and a cellist provided light music for the atmosphere. Overlapping the string instruments were the murmurs of conversation, with light laughter here and there.
To his right, just out of the corner of his vision, there was a flash of white.
He turned his head and spotted Ollie the pirate walking down the stairs beside a man dressed as a sailor. Behind the men trailed a bat—Evelyn—and a swan.
Anne .
Victor’s heart skipped a few beats. He could not move as he watched her glide down the stone stairs, the picture of elegance and grace. But who was the man to whom Ollie was speaking, the sailor? Was it Ashby?
Victor watched them until their feet met the grassy grounds and then he began to follow at a safe distance, his eyes stuck to Anne like a ship’s anchor to the sea floor.
The group lifted champagnes from a passing tray and continued strolling through the garden, Victor following noiselessly, paying no attention to the people he passed.
As they got farther into the garden, the air around them thickened and noise became muffled by the foliage of trees and plants growing everywhere.
The group entered an opening between tall, trimmed hedges. In complete silence, Victor followed and stopped at the hedge, where he was able to find a spot to look through. The group stood before a stone statue in the middle of a space completely enclosed by the tall, trimmed hedges.
“Ah, a cherub!” That was Evelyn’s voice. “In classic Italian art, cherubs represent innocence. They rose in popularity during the Baroque period…” As she continued, Ollie, Anne, and the unknown gentleman listened with interest for her every word.
Anne moved closer to the sailor—the suspected Ashby—and Ashby leaned over to say something to her briefly, though Victor couldn’t make out what was said. Anne nodded but did not react otherwise.
Victor moved to a space between the hedges where a gap was big enough to see better.
He became completely still and silent, controlling his breathing to be as slow and quiet as possible.
The enclosed area held nothing other than the statue, stone ground with a variety of flowers around the edge, and a stone bench on one side.
Victor didn’t have to think too deeply about what this spot of the garden was intended for.
Victor watched Anne and couldn’t help but study every movement she made.
The way she kept adjusting the eye mask as if slightly uncomfortable, then how she moved to push a tuft of light hair back behind her ear.
The way her earrings dangled and reflected the dim moonlight.
The long column of her neck, where he would have sensed her heartbeat, if only he’d been close enough.
It was where she’d dabbed her perfume, the honeysuckle scent she preferred for evening.
If he were close enough, he would wrap his arms around her waist, lower his face to her neck to inhale her, to kiss her, and he would never let go.
As wicked thoughts began to churn up in his mind, Anne’s shoulders tensed. And she began looking around as if she had heard something and was trying to locate the source of the sound.
And then she looked directly at him.
Victor took a sharp inhale and jerked to the side to be fully concealed by the hedge. He shut his eyes tightly and held his breath, but the roaring of his heart in his ears made it hard to focus.
He had to act fast. He had to assume she had seen him.
Victor could slip around the corner of this line of hedges, but if she came to investigate, that would be the most obvious place for her to look.
But about twenty feet off the walking path behind him was a willow tree beside a pond, its long branches arching and hanging low to the ground and calm water, almost like a chandelier.
With haste, Victor made his way into the willow tree and was pleased to discover it was quite dark inside. From here, he could watch Anne leave the cherub’s enclosure. This time, she would not be able to see him.
Sure enough, not even a minute later, the group reappeared. Ollie and Evelyn emerged first, then Ashby, with Anne following. Upon her exit, she looked around quite rapidly, as if searching.
She had seen him.
As he had guessed, she went around the corner of the hedge to investigate, the white, feathery skirt billowing in the night breeze. Ashby took a few steps in that direction and asked, “My lady, what is it you seek?”
Anne reappeared and though he couldn’t see her expression too well with the costume, he could feel her restlessness.
Ashby seemed to recognize it as well. While Ollie and Evelyn held hands and waited for them, Ashby held his arm out to Anne, an invitation to walk together.
Victor’s face became hot with jealousy. He clenched his teeth hard to keep from ripping the cad away from her.
“My lady, shall we all head back for more refreshments?” Ashby asked.
Anne began to reach her gloved hand out to him, hesitated, then dropped her arm. “You all go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a moment.”
The trio exchanged a look, and Ashby chuckled. “You cannot be here by yourself.”
“Mr. Martin, I appreciate your concern. However, I am a widow, not a young debutante. And you are Mrs. McNab’s employer, not someone who can dictate what I do.” It wasn’t Ashby! Victor nearly whooped with delight.
“But—”
“Thank you, sir, again, for your concern. I will be walking about on my own for a few minutes.”
The trio stood in place, as if unsure what to do.
Finally, Ollie jumped in. “No use telling her what to do, Mr. Martin. I know Lady Litchfield well enough for that.” Ollie placed Evelyn’s hand on his forearm. “Twenty minutes, though, and if you don’t return, I’m sending out a search party. We’ll be waiting at the stairs for you.”
Anne nodded wordlessly.