Page 52 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

A nne shut the door to Victor’s guest room, in which Mary was sleeping.

They had spent half the day on the train and had been able to change into fresh clothes and wash up on the train.

But Mary had not been feeling well most of the trip, and the swaying of the train had prevented her from sleeping well.

As it would be a few hours until the next train to Brighton, with them finally arriving at the seaside town well after the dinner hour, they were passing the time here at Victor’s.

The moment Mary’s head had hit the pillow in Victor’s guest room, she’d fallen right into a deep sleep.

Anne hadn’t slept very well, either, but she also knew sleep wouldn’t come until they had returned to Brighton and all of this mess was behind them.

Not just the mess with Mary’s near-elopement, but everything with Victor as well.

With Mary settled and no longer in need of Anne, Anne stepped out of the bedroom, peered down the hall, and fiddled with her skirt.

When they had arrived, Victor had taken her aside to inform her he had sent a telegram to his solicitor during their trip.

Apparently, during a rare moment on the train in which she had been asleep, they had stopped at a large station with a telegram office right on the platform.

At that time, Victor had been able to send a telegram to his solicitor about the marriage conundrum.

Right now, he was downstairs, awaiting a response.

It was strange. Anne wished for the news the marriage ceremony had been invalid. And yet, another part of her anticipated going downstairs to see Victor again, that warm, glowing feeling churning in her stomach knowing they would be discussing what, exactly, was happening between them.

Fear and love remained at war inside her mind and heart.

As Anne descended the stairs, willing her racing heart to calm, she wondered what she should say to Victor. Should she admit to loving him? Share her fears, and if so, would he understand? Or would he think her silly, or worse, get frustrated?

When Anne entered the parlor, she found Victor standing in front of a mirror, leaning in close to inspect his hairline. His fingers slid through his black hair, but then his entire body froze, as if he had found something. Victor’s face flushed in the reflection and he swore quite loudly.

“What’s the matter?” Anne asked.

Victor spun around quickly to face her and stared wide-eyed, as if embarrassed to have been caught doing…whatever it was he was doing. He cleared his throat and forced his face and stance to level out. “I believe recent events have led to my first gray hair.”

“I see.” Meanwhile, she’d found her first gray years ago. However, she decided it best to keep this thought to herself.

He shifted on his feet. “How is Mary?”

Anne stopped halfway across the floor and began to fiddle her hands together. “She’s asleep,” Anne said with a smile.

“I’m glad,” he replied.

They stared at each other for a moment, as if each were unsure how to cross over.

As she was the one who’d brought up having a discussion, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and crossed the rest of the room to him, her heart beating faster and faster with each step.

“Now we talk,” she said brightly, feeling self-conscious.

She cleared her throat and smoothed her fiddling hands down over her skirt.

“This summer has felt different to me. Maybe it’s because you’re actually with us?

I don’t know. But I’m glad you’ve been around.

” She paused in thought. “It has…forced me to reconcile with some things.”

Victor shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and cleared his throat. “Such as?”

Anne twirled a hand in the air. “Well, we are friends, are we not?”

Victor gave a single nod.

“In fact, we are great friends. And have been for many years.” She looked up at him.

They had been friends long enough that she could see a difference in his appearance.

The faint lines he’d once had around his eyes were deeper.

In fact, his face overall had aged. But her own had changed, too, of course.

Yet Victor remained as handsome as ever.

He was still strong and fit, and his black hair and dourness still appealed greatly to her.

She would probably feel this way decades from now, even when he grayed beyond one single hair, or lost his hair altogether.

“Remember the first day of your horse riding lessons?” she continued. “Afterward, you brought up that last time you’d been in Brighton. You know, when I chased Bernard in the rain and fell in the mud. And I denied remembering that moment when you helped me.”

Victor’s green eyes intensified, but he remained silent.

She looked down at her hands. “I didn’t forget it. Well, not fully. I hid it away from myself for a while. But I remember it all again.”

“Why did you try to forget?”

She smiled up at him but could feel hot tears stinging behind her eyes. “I was scared after Bernard died. Frankly, I’m still scared.”

Victor didn’t respond for a long moment, as if letting the words settle in. “We made a promise to each other that day,” he finally said. “We both realized we felt greatly for each other.”

“Yes.” Anne closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes, we did.”

“I don’t think either of us, however, really realized what that meant.”

Eyes still closed, she shook her head.

“And then, I told you I would wait for you as long as it took.”

Anne inhaled sharply and her eyes flew open, her heart galloping at hearing these words from him once more.

There was the slightest softening of his face.

“But please, I beg of you. Put me out of my misery, and let that moment be now.” Victor stepped forward to close the gap between them, his face becoming etched with pain.

“I will wait until the end of time, but it is torturous. I love you, Anne. I love you and life is short, and I do not wish to go much longer without you.”

Anne let out a sob as Victor closed the final space between them and pulled her against him.

She buried her face against his chest, gripped the front of his shirt, inhaled his scent.

He smelled like him . It wasn’t a strong soap, or expensive cologne—it was simply him and she inhaled it with greed.

Victor had always been a source of comfort for her, but she could no longer fight off how much she desired him in every way.

But that fear was always lurking—even now, an ever-present shadow amongst such a beautiful moment. Victor loved her. And instead of telling him how she felt, the fear of it overshadowed everything.

Anne sniffed and pulled her head back to look up while he slowly rubbed her back, leaving tingling heat beneath his touch. “But I’m so scared. I’m a broken woman, Victor. I’m a bag of shattered glass that will never fully be put back together.”

Victor cradled her face in his hands. His large hands were rough with the calluses of a lifetime of hard work. “What are you afraid of?”

She searched his intense, green eyes and found nothing there but love and patience.

Wasn’t that what she wanted? “I’m scared something will happen in your life that will cause you to turn away from me, to change.

I’m scared one day, you’ll be a different person than you are now.

I’m scared one day, you’ll succumb to liquor, or some other ruinous temptation, that so many men suffer from.

I’m scared I’ll be trapped again, like I was with Bernard.

I’m scared and I don’t know how to escape it. ”

The corners of Victor’s mouth turned down, and she braced herself for a scoff.

But no scoff came. “What if we are married, Anne? What if we receive a note from the solicitor confirming it? What then?”

Anne took in a shaky breath. “Is that what you want in the end, to be married to me?”

For a long while, Victor was quiet, gently sweeping his thumb over her cheek as he watched the movement, as if contemplating how to respond.

“Yes, I suppose I do. I never thought I would want that in my life, but then I met you. I love you, Anne. I want to be with you, and I want to experience life with you. I think the question that should be asked is, why wouldn’t I want to be married to you? ”

“But what would I do if you turn into a scoundrel?” She spoke desperately, not considering how these words would affect him. “What if you became another Bernard?”

Victor’s face darkened as he pulled his hands away from her face. “I would never treat you the way that blasted idiot treated you.”

Panic started to rise. How could he be so certain?

“I wouldn’t be able leave you, though, if you did.

You do realize that? The scandal that arose when I left Bernard was horrific on my nerves.

And even if we separated, what would keep you from following me, coming after me?

No one could stop you. And no one knows what the future holds. No one .”

“Why are you already talking about leaving me?” Victor’s voice cracked. “I just told you I love you, Anne, multiple times. And you haven’t responded in kind. How am I supposed to interpret that?”

Anne stilled upon this realization. To herself, she had admitted her love for him. But could she tell him she felt that way?

She tried to form the words but couldn’t. Was it worth the risk?

Victor got down to his knees and gripped her hands in his as he tilted his face up. “Anne. Please.”

He was begging her, begging her to love him, too.

And she did. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She just could not accept the risk love put upon her. However, this did remind her of her rules for seaside romance. Did all of the rules apply to Victor?

“Do you ever get drunk, Victor?”

His eyebrows furrowed, but he remained kneeled at her feet. “Have you ever known me to be drunk?”

Her lips pressed in a tight line. She did not. “When was the last time you were drunk?”