Page 49 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

“Och, aye.” The ruddy-faced man slammed a fist down to the table he sat behind. Unlike at the previous inn, this place had a noisy dining room. The patrons were loud, but there was also a fiddler playing a plucky tune. “Won’t forget those two for the rest of my life.”

“Where are they?”

“I haven’t seen the lad for hours now. I didn’t like him much—he was a bit pushy. Kept trying to reserve a room, even though I wouldn’t let them have one until after they married. I’m not running a house of sin, you know!”

“Of course not.” Victor was trying not to hurry the conversation along, but he was growing impatient. “So, what happened?”

“The lass said, ‘ Do you have enough coin for this place or shall I expect to sleep outside tonight? ’ And then he goes, ‘ Well, you’re the one with money. I thought you would have brought coin ,’ and she says, ‘ You want me to pay for you ? ’ The lad then says to me, ‘ Christ, man, just let us have a room. ’”

The chatty innkeeper raised his eyebrows at Victor with a knowing look.

That did sound like Mary. “And?” Victor needed to hurry along this conversation.

“I’ve lived here my whole life, laddie.” The man lowered his voice a bit.

“The pushiness, the desperate look in his eye. Too many of the couples that come through town are men promising marriage to women in order to woo them into the bed. Every single time, the lad leaves after he succeeds, the promise of marriage unfulfilled.” He tsked and shook his head with pity.

“That’s why I won’t take reservations until after the ceremony. I want no part of that!”

“But you gave them a room.” Victor leaned down to the innkeeper, gripped the front of his shirt, and growled.

The innkeeper shoved Victor’s hands off.

“Och, no! I knew what he was doing. He wanted her money, a tumble in the sheets, and then he’d leave her without a thought.

And I was right. When I suspected what he was up to I told him to leave, I did.

The lad promised the lady he would be right back.

I told her to sit tight in the dining room and order whatever she wished.

Naturally, her beau never returned. But I had a feeling someone would come looking for her. And I was right. Here you are!”

Victor couldn’t believe his ears. Ashby’s intentions—he would deal with that later.

But Mary was here? It felt as if the boulder pressing down on his back had been lifted.

He had to find her and make sure she was all right, that she was safe and truly unharmed.

The innkeeper had only seen them in that short moment—had Ashby done anything before then?

The thought struck cold fear in his heart.

Victor thanked the man and rushed into the dining room.

His eyes darted around. Based on the older ages of the people in here, as opposed to the twenty-year-olds he’d seen milling around the blacksmith’s, this was where the locals preferred to congregate.

At first, he couldn’t find her and was worried she had left.

But then, he found her and could hardly believe his eyes—there was Mary, seated alone at the bar, swaying as she intently focused on a glass full of ale that she was holding at eye level.

With one eye closed, and black hair quite messy.

She was drunk.

Victor let out a breath and hurried over to her.

“Mary,” he said, purposely dropping her title to protect her.

He realized he was choking up. The back of his throat was tight with the emotion and relief that flooded him.

Until this moment, he hadn’t allowed himself to comprehend how terrified he was for her.

But here she was, in the flesh. Appearing rather unconcerned, and quite drunk.

Mary turned her head in his direction and her body swayed with the movement. Upon seeing Victor, her eyes opened wide and her grip on the glass loosened. Victor quickly grabbed it and set it down before she dropped it and spilled.

“Uncle Victor?” she said quietly, though it sounded more like Ungle Vigder .

The barkeep—a tiny wisp of a woman with gray hair and a sharp face that said she would take no sass, immediately hurried over.

“No bothering the lassie.” She whipped a rag loudly against the bartop. “Or you’ll have to deal with me.”

“It’s all right, Bertha,” Mary said. So, she was drunk and on using Christian names with the barwoman. What a day she must have had. “This is my father.”

Victor immediately shot her a glare and she responded by giggling, the giggle then cut off by a hiccup.

Granted, it didn’t happen often, but this wasn’t the first time someone had mistaken him for Mary’s father.

But he also wasn’t about to correct her, as it would make leaving more difficult.

Bertha did not seem one to let things go lightly.

“Your mother is absolutely sick with worry.” Victor stared down at Mary, trying not to let himself get too angry.

Now that she was safe, the anger that had been pushed down finally started to rise.

She was safe, but… “What in the blazes possessed you to run off like that? And with Felton Ashby , of all people?”

She pouted and hiccupped at the same time, causing her body to jolt. But she didn’t answer.

Victor sighed. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Mary slid off her barstool and a travel bag tumbled to the floor without her notice. Victor grabbed it. “Goodbye, Bertha. You’re my dearest friend, you know.”

“Stay away from the lads a bit,” Bertha said, shaking her head.

As Mary started to stumble away, Victor hurriedly asked Bertha, “What does she owe you?”

Bertha waved him off.

Victor shoved his hand into his pocket, grabbed whatever he could, and slammed it down to the bartop. Bertha’s eyebrows shot up. “Then take this as my thanks for keeping an eye on her, then.”

“Aye.” Bertha began counting out the coin and let out a low whistle.

Victor caught up to Mary and led her outside. Mary could barely walk but spotted a bench about twenty feet away and collapsed into it.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Victor asked, trying to think of ways to sober her up.

Mary flung a floppy hand in his direction. “Yes, but I have no idea what it was. Bertha practically shoved food down my throat.”

“Good.” Victor set her bag on the bench beside her and lowered himself to sit as well. “What happened, Mary?”

Mary’s easy-going drunkenness immediately disappeared and she tensed. “He abandoned me.”

“Yes, I know. But I meant before that. Why did you do this?”

Mary crossed her arms and slouched in the seat.

For a flash of a moment, Victor saw Winthrop in her profile.

“Felton wooed me for a few weeks. I thought he really cared about me. I used to think I liked his younger brother, but then Felton kept inserting himself into everything. He was more confident, knew how to act, knew how to talk. His brother was nothing compared to him. Felton was a real gentleman, or so I thought.” She paused for a moment.

“The other night while we were at their house, he asked me to marry him during charades. But he didn’t want me to tell Mama.

Which I should have seen as a problem, but I was too swept up in the moment.

Here was this older man, and he thought little me was someone worth marrying!

Someone worth spending his life with! I was flattered, and I thought he meant it.

And then he had convinced me Mama would never support us getting married. ”

“Which is true.”

She nodded. “Yes. I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would convince her to agree to it. And Felton kept saying, ‘ Oh, but, Lady Mary, it’s your life! Don’t you think you should do what you wish with your own life?

’ Things like that. Yesterday, he sent me a letter asking me to elope.

We spent the day writing back and forth, planning it all out.

Then we left.” She shifted in her seat. “You know, after Freddy and I were sent to bed?”

Victor nodded.

Though her face was pale with exhaustion and too much drink, there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. “By the way, I saw you sneak out, too.”

Victor tensed.

“You were dressed as a musketeer. Where did that outfit come from?” She gave a small laugh.

“Your grandfather gave it to me. Where did you see me?”

“I must have left right before you. I heard someone coming and hid around the corner of the house. I saw you hurry out of the house to grandfather’s awaiting carriage, dressed in that costume. Why didn’t you just go with everyone else?”

“Let’s stay on topic,” Victor said hurriedly. “So, you left after midnight.”

“We met at the train station and discovered, unlike in London, there weren’t any night trains.

So, we slept there and took the first train out.

When we arrived, I was all set to go right to the blacksmith.

I was so…” She made a choking sound. Victor looked away to give her some semblance of privacy.

“I was so excited. How ridiculous am I?”

“You’re not ridiculous.”

She let out a shuddering breath, then continued. “He didn’t want to go right away, though. He wanted to get a room first, to make sure we didn’t lose out on a place to stay. It made sense, but at the same time…”

“Something about it bothered you,” he finished for her when she didn’t continue.

Mary looked over at him with worry set on her brow. “Yes.”

“That’s a very important feeling that you experienced.

I learned far too young to listen to it.

But it has never led me astray or into more danger.

Promise me—now that you know that feeling, that warning feeling—you must listen to it from now on.

Every single time you feel it, even if your mind tries to brush it off. ”

Mary looked him in the eye and nodded. “I will.”

Victor eased back into his seat. “Then what happened?”