Page 6 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

A nne paced in her parlor, feeling unusually nervous while awaiting Victor’s arrival. She walked back and forth across the floor while peering out the window and fidgeting her hands, as if this could somehow calm her nerves.

He should be here soon. Any moment now. He was always punctual, arriving at the exact same time for every single dinner they’d had together now all these years.

Victor had been having the occasional dinner with her and the children for nearly ten years now.

It was something she had suggested they start after his brother Ollie had married Evelyn—which had left Victor the only unmarried brother in their family.

She’d known he didn’t have any other family, aside from a few people with whom he wanted no contact, and would be seeing his brothers much less.

Although she had to admit it had been a bit improper for her, a married woman, to invite an unwed man without her husband present, separated though she and the marquess had been.

But to her, it hadn’t seemed so bad, as they were related through marriage in a roundabout way thanks to Vivian and Dantes.

Plus, Anne had thought Victor could use the company.

At first, he’d seemed a bit uncomfortable, especially around the children, but he’d kept coming back anyway.

And after some time, it had become normal.

Anne briefly paused in her pacing as her mind went back to that time in her life, when her dinners with Victor had begun.

Her separation from Bernard had begun not long after his and Vivian’s grandmother had died. The older woman had left her entire fortune to Vivian when it had been expected to go to Bernard. When that had happened, something in him seemed to change.

Bernard had never been a good husband—he’d succumbed to every temptation within reach of an aristocratic man—and he’d treated her horribly. But when his sister, Vivian, had received the fortune, Bernard had turned into a monster.

He’d hidden it well enough to outsiders. The queen, for example, had been completely charmed by him until the very end and had wept at his funeral. But there was an exact moment Anne could pinpoint that had changed their marriage permanently, and ended any last bit of affection she’d held for him.

They—or, it turned out, just Anne—had cut back on spending to improve their dire finances from his scoundrel habits.

Anne had gone to a millinery with Vivian and there had been a pale-blue hat with a bow-shaped adornment Anne had fallen utterly in love with.

It had matched her pale eyes and gone well with her fair features.

She’d felt stunning in it during a time in her life where she’d had very little self-confidence.

As it had turned out, Vivian had secretly bought the hat for Anne.

Anne had, of course, been furious at first. But Anne had decided to wear it once, hoping her husband would see how pretty she’d looked in it.

Maybe he would remember the young lady he had chosen to marry.

Maybe he would stay home with her instead of leaving for the evening like he always had.

It had been silly of her to think a hat could change a man, but she’d been desperate.

He’d come home that day, drunk as usual, and seen the hat.

Anne, who hadn’t wished to lie, had told the truth about where it had come from when he had asked.

Something in Bernard had seemed to crack.

His rich sister, the sister who had a fortune he thought was owed to him , had bought the hat for Anne.

They’d been near his desk and in a fit of rage, he’d shoved the contents of the desk to the floor. Then he’d shoved Anne and she’d fallen to the ground.

Of course, the children had heard the commotion and come running in with the governess.

Freddy and Mary had seen Anne sprawled out on the floor with Bernard looming over her, red-faced with anger.

The children had both been quite young at the time.

And while Mary had been too stunned to react, Freddy, the brave boy, had stepped in front of Anne to defend her.

And Bernard had responded by slapping him across the face.

A child. His child.

Bernard had fled, and once she had calmed the children down—Freddy had been far more level than she had expected—Anne had immediately gone to the only person who could help her: the Duke of Chalworth.

At first, he’d seemed to not want anything to do with the situation.

It was not unusual for a man to mistreat his wife in such a way, and it could have been argued Anne had been lucky it hadn’t been worse.

That was, until she told him, “Bernard likely will not live long enough to inherit the dukedom. His body will succumb to alcohol or idiocy before that. Your son slapped the next Duke of Chalworth. He will do it again. It will get worse. And only you can do anything about it.”

With the threat his son had imposed on his small grandson, the duke had seemed to come to terms with reality.

In an unprecedented move, the duke had forced his son out of the familial home, cut his funds down to a paltry weekly amount, and told the scoundrel to fix himself if he wanted anything back.

Bernard couldn’t even see his own children without the duke there, and this was a country where children went with their father during separations. They never stayed with their mother.

Not so long after, Bernard had succumbed to both the alcohol and the idiocy. He never had attempted to see his children after the first few months.

“Mama.” Mary’s voice pulled Anne back to the present. “What are you doing?”

Anne blinked a few times, remembering with relief that it was 1899 and not 1889. “What do you mean by that?”

Mary grinned as if she knew a secret. “You are pacing. Why do you always pace before Uncle Victor comes for dinner?”

Anne lifted her chin. “I do not.”

“Oh?”

“I’m merely impatient because I’m quite curious about an errand he had to run today.

” She knew he’d been summoned to see his grandfather, the Duke of Invermark.

She had been so blasted curious about what that meant.

Victor despised his grandparents, and they showed an equal interest in him.

The duke must have been quite ill if he’d been reaching out.

“There he is!” Mary jumped with excitement and pointed at a dark figure who walked by the window. “Hurrah! Uncle Victor is here!” Mary immediately ran out into the hallway, leaving Anne behind without a thought.

Anne’s heart raced. It was a silly thing, always doing this when she saw Victor.

Of course, she did secretly think he was an attractive man—anyone could see that.

He was tall, with broad shoulders, and she knew he often had to move and lift heavy objects at the pub.

Often, she caught herself watching when he did.

Beneath his clothing, he was probably quite muscular.

And his thick, black hair and beard led her to wonder about…

Anne pressed a hand to one cheek and pushed the thought away.

What was she doing, thinking such things!

She reeled herself back to propriety. No, she didn’t mind looking at Victor.

But she wouldn’t dare act on it. He was her dearest friend in the whole world, and the children adored him.

After everything Bernard had done, Victor was a positive male influence in the children’s lives.

If she pursued anything, which she wouldn’t, eventually, it would have to end, as she saw no future with any man.

She had already learned once the kind of a hold a man could have over a woman.

She would never let herself get into such a vulnerable position ever again.

The butler, Harris, opened the front door and Mary immediately began making excitable conversation. Victor, of course, remained silent, but Anne knew well enough he was listening to every word her daughter uttered.

Anne appeared in the hallway and Victor’s attention immediately went to her. He gave her that intense stare she never could get used to. Maybe it was the piercing, green eyes. She shook away the spine-tingling feeling it caused.

Anne began to approach them as Harris took a stack of paper from under Victor’s arm. It was tied together with twine. What was that for? “How do you greet guests, Mary? Is it by badgering them with a breathless string of questions and stories?”

Victor held Anne’s gaze for several beats longer before returning his attention to Mary.

Mary gave him a hasty curtsy. “Sorry, Uncle Victor. How is the weather?”

Though Victor didn’t laugh or smile—he never really did—amusement danced in his eyes. “The weather? Why, Lady Mary, don’t you have more interesting conversation, such as the dress you had picked out earlier?”

Naturally, Mary returned to her rapid discussion about visiting the two modistes, and her debut next year. It would be all she would talk about for weeks. If not months.

Anne smiled and shook her head with amusement. “Mary, dear, why don’t you go look at your fashion magazines for a bit while I visit with Victor? I’ll let you know when it’s time to join us.”

“Oh, all right, Mama!” Mary immediately rushed up the stairs to her bedroom, where Anne knew magazines from Paris were spread all over her bed.

Anne motioned for Victor to follow and they went into the parlor. “As you can see, she is very excited. It’s all she wants to talk about.”

“I imagine such an event is exciting for a young lady.”

Anne went to sit in a chair, and Victor followed into another. “It is.” She paused. “She’s been begging me to ask you something. I’m not sure how you will feel about it.”

Victor’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Yes?”