Page 51 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

A s soon as Victor left to track down Mary and Mr. Ashby, Anne waited inside the inn at which he had left her and tried to force herself to eat a bit. Neither she nor Victor had eaten much, other than a small lunch on the train, yet she could only manage a few bites.

And then she waited.

And waited.

It was horrible, the waiting. Several times, she debated going after him. But where would she find him? And what if he came back and she had left?

It was difficult, but she forced herself to stay put, even though she questioned herself constantly. She wasn’t accustomed to such unwavering support. Everything, even when Bernard had been alive, had always rested on her shoulders.

Setting her chin in her hand, Anne stared down at the mass of food in front of her, not really noting what it was.

She had never trusted Bernard, not even when they’d first married and he’d been on his best behavior.

She’d always had the sense that he’d been up to something.

At dinners, he would ignore her and pay attention to other women in attendance.

It hadn’t sat right with her, she’d ask him about it, he would come up with a reasonable explanation.

Or he would make an offhand comment that he had a certain amount of coin on him, but then later she would discover half of it had disappeared.

He would offer no explanation of where it had gone and instead, he would blame her for misremembering the amount.

His explanations to her questions never sat right with her, and sometimes she’d sworn she’d been going mad.

But Victor? She trusted him completely and without a single doubt.

It was an incredible feeling to know someone was there on whom she could rely during a difficult time. Her body and mind were nearly ready to give out from exhaustion, but Victor had taken over without a thought.

It wasn’t much later after this thought that Victor appeared again, and this time with Mary in tow. Anne immediately stood up from her small table, and in her fear and worry, found the strongest emotion bubbling up was anger.

Now that Mary was here and safe, Anne could feel her face getting hot. She wanted to take Mary by her shoulders and shake some sense into her. She wanted to ask what in the world she was thinking by eloping in Gretna Green?

But Mary wouldn’t look her in the eye and kept her gaze on the floor. And she was swaying.

Was Mary drunk?

Anne took in a deep breath and opened her mouth to give her daughter a piece of her mind.

But Victor intervened first. “It’s been a long day,” he said, holding Anne’s gaze. “And we still don’t know how we’re going to overnight.”

“Is she married?” Anne asked, dreading the answer.

“No. And Ashby’s gone.”

Anne let out a breath and clamped her mouth shut.

Maybe anger wasn’t the best way to approach Mary, at least at the moment.

Anne closed her eyes, willing back the anger and humiliation that boiled within her.

She took in a deep, calming breath. Then another.

“Mary.” She forced her eyes open. “Are you all right?”

Mary nodded, though her eyes remained anchored to the floor.

“Let’s go. We’ll talk later.”

Mary’s wide eyes lifted to her mother, then went to Victor, as if the young woman couldn’t believe Anne had resisted tearing off her head.

After paying for Anne’s henpecked meal, Victor grabbed all of the travel bags and they decided to head to the station to find out what time the next train would be leaving.

It turned out to be six o’clock, which was still hours away.

As they had nowhere to go and the pubs would close soon, the trio decided to return to the bench on which Victor had sat with Mary earlier.

Mary lay sprawled across the bench, her head resting on one of the bags.

Anne sat on the bench at her feet, and Victor sat on the ground next to Anne’s end of the bench.

Between short bouts of restless sleep, Anne was sure Mary was the only one getting a measurable amount of rest.

At some point, Anne gave into the fact that sleep would likely evade her, at least for a while. When she realized Victor was as awake as she was, she moved to sit on the ground beside him.

She leaned her head back against the building behind them, reeling from the day’s saga. “Tell me everything.” Anne let her head drop to the side to see Victor better. “And don’t protect me from any detail.”

And so, he told her. It took a good half an hour to go through the whole story and then answer the myriad questions she had.

The biggest question that remained, however, was: where was Felton Ashby?

“I will find him, of that, I’m confident.” Victor rubbed a cheek with his palm. He was so serious, his jaw set so tight, Anne believed and trusted him wholeheartedly.

“And you will kill him too?” She made sure to say this just bright enough so he knew she was joking, but also not really.

He grinned at her, a rare sight indeed, and it made her heart soar, a brief light in the darkness.

Victor’s smiles and laughs were far and few between, and she basked in them when they occurred.

“Unfortunately, there will be no killing,” Victor said.

“But I will deal with him and this entire scandal, of that, I have no doubt.”

“You promised to find Mary and did. I completely believe you will deal with him as well.” Anne leaned forward briefly to eye her daughter sprawled across the bench, one arm hanging down to the ground.

Mary was either asleep from exhaustion or passed out drunk—Anne couldn’t say which and frankly, she didn’t want to know.

Bernard had spent his entire adulthood getting drunk and acting foolish.

And now, his daughter was doing the same thing.

When it got out that Mary had gone to elope in Gretna Green, with a fortune hunter at that, and that the marriage hadn’t taken place—even if Mary was still chaste—the family would be scandalized for generations to come.

Not even the Duke of Chalworth could cover this one up.

Mary wouldn’t be able to make her debut next year. And perhaps not ever.

Anne had to shove this out of her mind for now. Even she could only manage to worry so much at one time.

Though it was now well into evening, the summer night air remained warm and comforting. In the silence of the now-sleepy town and the gentle swaying of the trees around them, Anne soon found her head bobbing as she tried to fight off sleep.

“Anne.”

Something within Anne leapt at hearing Victor say her name in that low, deep voice.

The moment reminded her of that summer storm so many years ago, when he’d pulled her out of the mud.

His voice had wrapped around her name like a caress.

The promise he’d made to her that he would wait for her forever if necessary, the one she had tried to forget these past few years —there was no denying anymore that it had happened.

And it was now a possibility, if she wanted it.

But still the thought of tying herself to another man terrified her, and Mr. Ashby’s behavior had reinforced that.

Mr. Ashby had initially come off as sweet as honey, and if he had been a bit more polished and strategic, Anne might have been convinced to succumb to a brief summer liaison with the man.

Never in a million years would she ever have expected him to go after her daughter at the same time!

Truly nauseating.

But then there was Victor.

Victor was her dearest friend, and if she’d ever had had the smallest doubt of his feelings for her, this mess had proven how much he cared for her.

Not just her, either, but her children too.

The fact he’d comforted both herself and Freddy upon Mary’s disappearance, gone with her to chase down Mary, then taken over without a thought when it all had become too much for Anne, it really showed what kind of man he was.

Yes, he was kind. Yes, he cared about her and most importantly, he cared about Mary and Freddy.

He would balk at this, but he was as protective of them as if he were their father. A good father.

And coupling all of this with the way he’d kissed her at the masquerade, she was pretty confident it meant one thing: he loved her.

But did she love him in that way?

Victor was important to her. And if there were ever a time he was gone from her life, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle it. It would be as if a piece of her had been taken away.

Anne closed her eyes again at the thought, at the gentle, warm breeze, and emotions began to rise.

Maybe she loved Victor, too, as a woman loved a man. But assuming they weren’t already married—she refused to even entertain the ridiculous idea and clung desperately to the fact that the anvil had not been dinged—could she want to marry him someday far into the future?

If they ever did really get married, what would happen when something went wrong? Victor may have been wonderful, but he was also human.

How would he be when he did become a duke?

How would it change him? Would he grieve for his grandfather, the life he’d never had, and ease the melancholy with liquor?

Would the stress of his responsibilities turn him into another monster?

Bernard had been pleasant enough when he’d courted her.

But when they had married and life had happened, his scoundrel habits had worsened and turned her life into a nightmare she hadn’t been able to escape until he’d died.

If down the road she chose to marry Victor and he succumbed to his worries, his stressors, she would never be able to leave.

Never be able to escape. If he drank too much and shouted at her, she couldn’t leave.

If he gambled all their money away, she couldn’t leave. If he laid a hand on her, or worse?

She wouldn’t be able to leave. Unless he died young, and what were the chances that would happen twice?

There was a war in her heart. Love for Victor, and fear of vulnerability to men.

Despite not meaning to cry, silent tears began to slide down her cheeks. She wiped them away, hoping Victor wouldn’t notice.

“Anne,” Victor’s deep voice said again.

Anne looked over to him. He appeared as weary as she felt. His normally neat, black hair reflected the repeated rush of frustrated hands from a nightmare of a day. And his eyes were weary, reflecting the same exhaustion she felt.

“Yes?” Anne finally said.

Victor lifted his arm in invitation. “Come here,” he said in a low voice.

Anne hesitated, surprised he would invite her into such closeness.

But had he not kissed her upon the cheek and held her hand?

And though he had been in disguise, had he not given her the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced in her life?

Oh, to be in his embrace and rest her weary head against him! It would reflect heaven.

But that battle in her heart was still at war. Do it. Don’t do it. Do it. No, don’t—you will only get hurt.

“Please,” he whispered the word.

But Anne was too tired for the battle of heart versus mind. She threw herself into the temptation and snuggled against his side.

At the feeling of his hot, hard body beneath hers, his strong arm wrapped around her, Mary safe and sound and asleep nearby, the tears slid down again.

Victor wiped them away with a thumb. “Why are you crying?”

Because I know you love me, and now I know I love you, but I’m too scared and broken to give anything a chance.

“The whole day,” she replied with a small, forced laugh.

“We got Mary back, as I promised we would,” he said as he lightly rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

“I know,” she said, trying to still her voice. “Thank you, Victor.”

“Of course.”

The battle continued, but in the moment, love was winning out. Anne lifted her face to look up at him. “No, I mean, thank you. For everything. Not just today. All of it.”

Victor’s hand stilled and he gave her the brush of a crooked smile. “Of course. Though to be honest, I don’t know what you mean, exactly.”

“I, um…” Anne shifted and sat up straighter. She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. What if she told Victor about her fears? Would he understand? Would she lose his friendship?

Blast it all. She couldn’t keep wondering and waiting.

“Victor,” Anne said, still not sure what she was going to do. He waited with patience, so close to her in the moment. She loved the way he felt against her, and she felt so safe with him. But would it always be that way? “Something is happening between us, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” His green eyes flashed with surprise, but it was all he replied with. And maybe, it was all there was to say.

Anne quickly glanced at Mary to ensure the young woman was still asleep. And then Anne put her full attention on Victor. She lifted her hand to his rough cheek and held his gaze. He watched her, waiting, his green eyes ablaze with wanting.

The desire, the love she found in his eyes took her breath away. And she tilted her mouth up to his and kissed him.

Her heart raced and it felt like everything moved slowly.

But the moment her lips connected with his, all the worry of the day melted away, as if he were her remedy.

Victor shifted to wrap both arms around her to pull her closer, slid his fingers up into her hair, and he turned his head to fit their mouths better together.

The moment ignited the way it had beneath the willow tree—that same fiery passion tempted her, pulled her.

Anne moved away, her breathing rapid. “Oh,” she whispered.

Victor nuzzled against her hair and pressed a soft kiss against it.

“I think—I think we have something to discuss,” Anne said as her heart pounded hard.

“I have been waiting a long time to hear you say that, my love,” Victor whispered in her ear. “Far longer than I think I may even know.”

My love . It caused her breath to catch.

“Right now, though, I think you should get some sleep. We’ve a long ride to London in the morning and it could be a while for the next train to Brighton. If we need to, we can stop at my home. You and I can discuss everything there.”

Anne intertwined a hand with his, darted another quick glance over to Mary, and then looked back up to him.

“Yes, I think that’s a brilliant plan. I should probably go to Mary’s side in case she wakes up.

But just so you know, I do wish we were in London, in your bedroom instead.

” She couldn’t help but giggle when his face flushed a deep red.