Page 57 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

But it wasn’t a pleasant laugh. It was almost maniacal. The blood drained from Anne’s face.

Victor wiped a tear of laughter from his eye.

“Fergus has died.” He laughed again. “He’s dead.

My grandfather is dead. My grandmother didn’t know I went to Brighton—that’s why she wrote me here.

Just so happened he died peacefully in his sleep three days ago.

” He laughed more. “He’s already buried!

He didn’t want us there for the funeral!

” Victor flung his hands out wide to his sides.

Anne stood in place feeling very small. It seemed as if everything that Victor had shouldered throughout his life had finally caused him to snap. He looked and sounded utterly mad.

Victor let out a long sigh and then started laughing again. Hard. He had to bend over and put his hands on his knees. “Do you—Do you know what this means?” He looked over at her and tears of laughter were spilling down his cheeks.

She could only manage to shake her head.

“It means I’m the Duke of Invermark.” He let out a howl of laughter. “Me, right now! Fergus’s biggest disappointment—well, aside from my father.”

“He’s already buried?” How wretched that he hadn’t wanted his heir, or any of his grandsons, to attend his funeral.

She hadn’t liked the man very much the few times she’d crossed paths with him, and wasn’t really that surprised he had done this.

But now was not the time to be sharing those thoughts.

In fact, she didn’t know what to do. Now the subject of marriage was all but forgotten with this news. They weren’t married, and he had just been dealt a devastating blow. How could she now tell Victor, You know, I actually changed my mind and think we should get married?

It would look like she had greedily changed her mind at the opportunity to become a duchess if she expressed a sudden change of heart right after Victor had learned he was a freshly minted duke.

And who knew, now that his dreaded future was here, he might change his mind about having an heir and would need to marry someone who could provide children.

Because she wouldn’t go through that again.

“That.” Victor pointed at the two letters now on the table. “All of that. It’s a lark. Don’t you think?”

“No, I really don’t.”

He grinned widely and laughed again. “Well, I suppose you’ll be leaving, then. Marjory has requested a visit from me, so I guess I should go.”

“Will you come back to Brighton after that?” Anne asked this, but she already knew the answer.

“How could I?” He laughed again. “But isn’t it brilliant that everything my grandfather gave me in regard to the estate is in Brighton? More luck for me!”

Anne swallowed. “We will be sure to send everything back since you cannot fetch it.”

Victor waved her off. The laughter, the mad humor, immediately fell away from him like he had tumbled over the edge of a cliff. Victor gripped the back of a chair, leaned into it, and dropped his head.

He stood that way for a long moment and Anne carefully, cautiously, stepped over to him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Victor.” She didn’t know what else to say.

Victor took in a deep, shuddering breath and tilted his head over to her. His eyes were red, and it looked like he was crying.

He collapsed to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist, buried his face into her stomach, like he had done before. And he sobbed.

She ran her fingers through his hair, hoping to comfort him.

“I know you weren’t expecting this, but I promise everything will be fine.

” She hesitated. Was this a good time to bring up that she had changed her mind about getting married?

It didn’t seem like it, but at the same time, she needed to tell him.

And soon. But would he take her seriously? That was the question.

Victor quieted and took in one last deep breath, pressed his face against her one more time, then clambered up to his feet. He sniffed. “No, I don’t think it will.” His head flew up to look at something behind her and he paled. “Mary.”

Anne spun around and found her daughter at the dining room door, hugging herself.

“Mary!” Anne tried to sound cheerful. “How long have you been standing there?”

The young woman looked so small and frightened in the moment. “About ten minutes.”

She had seen the whole thing.

Victor rubbed a hand over his mouth and put his attention back down to Anne. His usual calmness seemed to be returning, though his face remained tense with grief. “Take my carriage to the train station. I’ll find my own way to visit Marjory.”

“Look, Victor—”

“No.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Please, just get away from me.”

Anne swallowed back her argument. There was nothing more to say. They weren’t married and may never be now.

And it was physically painful. It felt as if her insides were being split apart. She wanted to run after him, pound on his chest, and tell him he was stupid and wrong and she did love him and did want to marry him.

But that would only make everything worse, not better.

She couldn’t make it better. He wouldn’t believe her if she tried.

Victor walked away from her and paused at Mary. To Anne’s surprise, Mary was crying too. “Uncle Victor…” she said in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. He left the room.

It took a moment for Anne to gather herself. Out in the hallway, Victor was nowhere to be seen. And there was nothing they could do but leave him behind.

*

On their ride to the train station, Mary kept quiet. She wouldn’t look Anne in the eye and seemed to want nothing to do with her, staring out the carriage window as if the view were endlessly fascinating.

“Mary, what’s wrong?”

Mary didn’t respond at first, but finally, she spun her head to Anne. “You are so stupid!”

Anne gasped loudly. “How dare you speak to me that way?”

“You are!” Mary cried out. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. “You’re so worried about me falling for some cad—”

Anne was not having this. “Which you did!”

“You act as if being male equates to being evil, to the point you are incapable of recognizing a good and decent man when he’s staring you in the face! You just chased one off. Like I said, stupid !”

Anne’s mouth hung open.

Mary choked out a sob. “And now, Uncle Victor’s gone forever and wants nothing to do with us, because of you ! What am I going to do now? What is Freddy going to do? We didn’t want him to leave!”

“I’m sorry,” Anne said, her already soul-crushing despair even worse.

“Do you ever consider us ?”

“I consider you for everything ! You come before me, always!”

Mary slumped back into her seat with a pout, but the angry air that seemed to surround them felt as if it were easing.

“I’m sorry. I just… We always thought you two would get married one day.

Not just me and Freddy, but everyone ! It never even occurred to me that you might not. He was always there, Mama. Always.”

Anne sighed. “We haven’t been seeing eye to eye on that.”

Mary straightened, as if feeling hopeful. “What does that mean?”

Anne studied her daughter. She had always shielded Mary from the difficulties of life as best she could, a protective measure after being married to Bernard, she would guess. But what had that done? It had ended up with Mary trying to elope in Gretna Green.

“It means,” Anne said, choosing her words carefully, “he and I have discussed it before. But at the time, I didn’t like the idea of marriage. A second one, I mean.”

“Why not?”

Anne took in a slow inhale. “Your father and I did not marry for love, and our marriage reflected that.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t wish to speak ill of him to you, so I will leave it at that.”

Mary tilted her head and scoffed. “Mama, we were there . Maybe we didn’t see everything, but we, or at least I, saw enough. Papa hated you.”

The rawness of those words, coming from the daughter she’d tried so hard to protect, stabbed her straight into the heart.

Mary must have realized this because she covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that so bluntly.”

“No.” Anne swallowed. “No, you’re right.

He did hate me. I got in the way of everything he wanted.

” She gave her daughter a small smile. “Any man who puts you aside for any reason—be it excluding you from a conversation or an important decision, not standing up for you to family or friends, or simply ignoring your worries or difficult feelings—is not a man you want in your life.”

Mary nodded and her face was so stern, Anne thought the young woman might actually have been taking note of this.

“Uncle Victor isn’t like that, though.” Mary paused. “Right?”

“No. He isn’t. And when I realized that, I thought maybe being married to him wouldn’t be so bad. And then the letter from the solicitor came to clarify everything.”

Mary shook her head. “What are you talking about, ‘clarify everything’? Clarify what?”

Anne stilled and frowned at herself. “Did I not tell you what happened in Gretna Green?”

“You mean beside chasing after me?” Mary had the good sense to look sheepish.

There had been so much chaos over the last twenty-four hours, Anne realized she had yet to tell Mary about getting caught up in a wedding ceremony with Victor. She told her daughter the story briefly.

“Wait.” Mary’s back straightened and her eyes went wider and wider as the story sunk in. “ You’re married ?”

Anne vehemently shook her head. “No. The solicitor said that if I didn’t consent, then the marriage was null and void.”

“I was going to say, you’re so against elopement, but then you and Uncle Victor go off and elope in Gretna Green yourself!”

Anne pressed her mouth together tightly. Her daughter had a point and she didn’t like it much, either. “Maybe don’t refer to him as ‘Uncle Victor’ anymore under the circumstances.”

Mary’s eyebrows lifted as she nodded, but then she tilted her head in a study of Anne. “Are you sure the solicitor said if ?”

“Yes.” Anne frowned. “Why?”