Page 48 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

A fter giving the blacksmith a death glare—and paying the man, as the last thing Victor needed was an argument over that—Victor went after Anne, though he was unsure what he would do once he’d reached her.

They couldn’t really be married, though.

No. Certainly not.

He opened the old, wooden door and stepped out into the evening sun, which cast a deep-yellow glow and long shadows over the small town of Gretna Green.

He knew well it wouldn’t get fully dark until at least eleven o’clock.

After looking about and searching beyond the people meandering about, he finally found her at the far end of the building sitting on a bench.

He sat beside her and asked, “Where should we check next?”

Immediately, she spun her head in his direction and he was certain she was going to murder him.

“Very well, wrong question, then.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry about, ah, what happened back there.”

Anne jumped up to her feet and loomed down at him. “You’re sorry about what happened back there ? As if you had accidentally ordered a too-expensive bottle of wine at a restaurant? Or had caused me to lose my place in a book? You’re sorry about what happened ?”

Victor stammered. “I—yes.”

Anne threw her hands out to her side. “You didn’t stop him. You didn’t say anything! You just stood there, slack-jawed. Staring at me! And then—then! You confirmed you had lived in Scotland before! After I said we hadn’t!”

He frowned. “I wasn’t slack-jawed .”

She ignored that comment. “You can’t seriously tell me you didn’t realize what was happening.”

He stammered again, like a cad, while rubbing the back of his neck.

The truth was, he had, after a few moments, realized what had been happening and he’d been so surprised that they had gotten themselves caught up in their own wedding ceremony, and then, the idea hadn’t sounded too terrible, and…

Well, he’d decided to see what she would do.

Now, of course, his head was back on straight and he knew how idiotic that had been. He cleared his throat and turned up a palm. “Is it really that bad, though?”

She inhaled sharply through her nose, her eyes widening with it. Victor resisted the urge to wince. “ That bad ? What do you mean by that , Victor?”

“We already spend so much of our free time together.” He paused, grimaced, and opened one eye, risking a look up at her. She was still looming over him like the grim reaper himself. “Would it truly be that bad if we were married? All things considered?”

“Are you mad?” she shouted this out so loudly that everyone around paused what they were doing and looked over to see what was going on. Anne blanched, grabbed Victor’s arm, pulled him off of the bench, and marched him around the corner of the blacksmith’s building to escape prying eyes.

She crossed her arms and looked up at him. “We have no business being married, Victor. We are friends. Quite good friends, yes. But we are not husband and wife. Not…” She made a choking noise. “Lovers.”

For a moment, Victor considered admitting he was the Phantom.

If they didn’t have the potential to be lovers, if that wasn’t something possible between them, then why had the kiss beneath the willow tree been so desperate and heated?

He may not have been experienced when it came to women, but he knew far more about intimacy than he’d ever wanted to before this.

And he knew what they shared together was not common.

But again, this was not the time to be discussing this. Perhaps, if Anne stewed in the idea, she would come around.

Telling her he was the Phantom would be his next step. This possible marriage changed everything, and it was only fair that she would know.

Victor cleared his throat. “I have a solicitor I can contact. He should be able to tell us if we are married or not.”

“Thank you.” Anne’s shoulders fell. This seemed to satisfy her for the time being.

“The more pressing issue, though, is finding Mary. We have been delayed for far too long.” Anne’s jaw set, and she stared off as if thinking.

“I think we should check inns next. I don’t think they would have known to go anywhere other than the blacksmith. ”

Victor nodded. “That’s a good idea. A town this small shouldn’t have too many inns, either.”

It turned out there were several in town—who would have guessed? After checking the fourth inn, they began walking toward the fifth when they passed the train station. Victor paused and looked at it. “We should see what time the last train leaves.”

“Good idea,” Anne said.

They found the stationmaster again and discovered they had minutes until the last train to London of the day.

They would never make it. And unfortunately, they had also discovered it was quite difficult finding vacancies at inns this time of year.

All they could do was trudge on and hope for the best.

When they reached their eighth, or maybe it was the tenth, inn Victor started to truly worry about Anne. She was walking slower, her feet dragging behind her, and her shoulders were starting to slump. As with all the other inns, they went inside to inquire about any bookings with Mary and Ashby.

The innkeeper, in a crisp, white shirt and neat tweed flatcap, confirmed they had no guests that matched Mary’s and Ashby’s descriptions.

“Do you have any vacancies?” Victor asked as he looked down at Anne. “It’s been a long day for us.”

“Unfortunately, I do not,” the innkeeper said with a genuine frown of pity. “Perhaps another inn does.”

And so, they continued trudging around Gretna Green as the sky became darker and darker.

“What if we don’t find her?” Anne asked as they left another inn with no news, her voice sounding weak and exhausted. “Do we leave without her?”

Victor couldn’t fathom the thought. He was going to turn this blasted town upside down to find Mary if he had to. “No. We look as long as we need to. And when you get tired, I will continue looking. I won’t rest until I find something.”

“I won’t, either,” Anne replied, but her voice gave away the true depth of her exhaustion.

“Please.” Victor put a hand on her shoulder. He looked over at the inn they had just left. “Go and sit down, eat something. I will keep looking.”

“But—”

“Anne, sometimes you need to let others help you.”

She seemed to mull over this for a moment before giving him a weak nod and took their travel bags to bring inside. “You find me the second you learn anything.”

“I promise.”

“What are we going to do about sleep? Where will we go?”

“I don’t know. We will figure it out.”

She gave him a small nod and he watched her go inside the inn.

With renewed determination, Victor continued the exhaustive search, glad he was able to convince Anne to take time to rest. The next inn, the innkeeper was actually two people, a husband and wife duo called Mr. and Mrs. Baker.

“Sorry,” the short, red-haired fellow said after licking his finger to flip through their reservations book. “No one of that name here.”

“What did they look like?” Mrs. Baker asked. She had crossed her arms and skewed her face up to Victor, pinched with interest. Victor described Mary and Ashby.

“Don’t recall anyone like that,” Mr. Baker said.

But Mrs. Baker didn’t respond. Instead, she pinched her chin and stared off with thought. “You said they’re how old again?”

“Lady Mary is seventeen and Ashby is thirty-two.”

“I recall a couple coming in here earlier today. He looked far older than her, at least to my forty-year-old eyes.”

Mr. Baker jumped in. “Seventeen and thirty-two is hardly unique.”

“True, but it’s not common, either. Not with the sort that comes through these parts.

Most of the young couples that come through are middle class or working class and about the same age.

An age difference like that when the lass is so young mostly happens with the upper class and is rare enough to stand out.

” Mrs. Baker frowned down at the reservations book while looking through it.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, though, it might have been them.

I didn’t pay enough attention to be certain, but she did have black hair and he had light hair.

I can’t recall if he wore spectacles, though. ”

Victor felt the first surge of hope all day. It was a mere flicker, and he knew not to get too confident. But it was the most he had. “Where did they go?”

But Mrs. Baker shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you.” She paused and furrowed her brows. “But I do remember something.”

“Yes?” Victor said a bit too eagerly.

Now the woman looked him square in the eye. “They were frustrated with each other. The way they stood and talked? Again, I don’t remember too much, but I do recall her turning her nose up at him and she said, ‘Of course you don’t have the coin.’”

Upon this, Mr. Baker slammed an open palm down to the table, causing his wife to yelp and Victor to flinch.

“I remember now! I remember that comment! They said they were on their way to see the blacksmith but wanted to reserve a room first. When the lad asked what a room goes for, I told him, even though we had nothing available, and he balked at the price. That’s when the lass made that comment.

I told them that sometimes the Green Inn has openings when everything else is booked, as it’s the oldest inn in town and a bit rough around the edges because of it.

Best thing I can say is maybe they went there. ”

That glimmer of hope turned into a full glow. “Where’s the Green Inn?”

“Just around the corner there!” Mr. Baker thumbed over his shoulder to the wall behind him. Victor thanked the couple profusely and rushed out of the inn.

When he went around, he saw the place almost immediately. Unlike all the white buildings in town, this inn was aptly painted green, though it desperately needed a fresh coat.

Once inside, the innkeeper knew exactly who Victor was searching for.