Page 8 of A Lady’s Rules for Seaside Romance (The Harp & Thistle #3)

B y the time Victor had returned to The Harp & Thistle, the night crowd was at full force.

He was a bit stunned, in truth, when he pushed through the front door and was slammed with a wall of ear-splitting noise.

Overlapping loud conversations, the piano banging away a bright, twinkling tune.

The place smelled of fish from the dock workers, sweat from the laborers, leather from the leatherworkers and cobblers.

And of course, beer and whiskey. It seemed a bit early in the night for the place to be packed wall to wall, but every once in a while, they had a busier evening than usual.

His stomach twisted with panic as he realized, with his absence, they’d been severely understaffed. Victor swore under his breath and began shouldering his way through the crowd.

Though he would never admit this out loud, Victor missed his brothers working by his side every night as they used to. He was glad they were happily married, and glad for Keer, whom he couldn’t run the pub without, but it wasn’t the same. He missed the way it used to be.

Thankfully, though, Dantes still worked at the pub a few nights a week, and this night was one of them. Victor quickly made his way across the pub to the back office to safely put away the stack of paper from Fergus, and came back out to the floor.

Dantes, Keer, and the new hire Benny O’Shea were behind the bar slinging pints and whiskey glasses.

O’Shea, round-faced and round-bellied, huffed as he tried to keep up with the other men’s pace.

They didn’t notice Victor, as they were far too busy with taking orders to notice anything else.

Victor took a moment to watch them under anonymity.

Dantes had been doing this for as long as Victor and had it down to a science.

But he also didn’t have patience for large crowds and Victor could see the signs of barely contained irritation in his brother’s face.

He scowled, was short with people, and between that and the deep scar that slashed over half of his face, only the regulars who knew him dared order from him.

Keer, thusly, had twice as many patrons at the moment. And so did O’Shea. O’Shea was stumbling about, glasses slipping out of his hands, liquid spilling over the edge, coin dropping to the floor. It reminded Victor of Ollie.

However, Keer slid down to help the stumbling man.

Keer filled five whiskey glasses within seconds, which Victor had to admit was impressive.

Keer then gave the new hire a quick shoulder squeeze and returned to his place behind the bar, where he continued taking orders, filling them, and taking coin at lightning speed.

Victor left his hidden spot and joined Dantes.

“Thank Christ. Where have you been?” Dantes asked while slamming the cash register shut.

“Anne’s,” was all Victor offered. He had debated telling his brothers about their grandfather’s prediction and decided against it, as it made no sense to put that on them when it wouldn’t happen. He also ignored the way his brother seemed to be pointedly staring at him.

“Anne’s, you say?” Dantes said, clearly trying to get some sort of reaction.

Victor ignored him as a tan, plump, slightly drunk gentleman plopped onto a barstool that had just been vacated. “Billy.” Victor gave the man a nod. Billy had been a regular of theirs since the beginning. “Pint?”

“Aye.” Billy gave an answering nod as he pulled forward a young lad who looked about sixteen years.

Freckles dotting his face, coupled with a cowlick on his short hair, gave him an innocent air.

“Today was my boy Phillip’s first day working with me at the docks!

” Billy gave the scrawny boy a hard, but proud, pat on the back, causing the young man to lurch forward.

The corner of Victor’s mouth twitched. He recalled his first days working on the docks after he’d left his grandparents’. Never had he felt so much pain in his life. “How are you feeling, Phillip?”

The young man winced. “It feels like every muscle in my body has ripped to shreds.”

Victor nodded. “I remember that myself. Took about two weeks until it started to ease.”

Phillip swallowed. “That long?”

Victor filled and shoved a pint to Billy, then filled a whiskey for Phillip. “On the house, lad. This will help.” Victor looked him over. The boy’s arms were stick-thin. “Wouldn’t have more than one of these, if I were you.”

“No, sir,” Phillip replied with wide eyes. “Thank you.”

Billy nudged his son and jutted his chin at Victor. “Mr. McNab here started at the docks at the same age as you. Now look at him, eh? Built like a bull.” Billy snarled and flexed his muscles. Dantes laughed. “Rich as a king, too.”

“I am not rich,” Victor lied. He knew he stood to inherit a fortune. And even now, he hoarded money, in truth, but that was because he knew what it was like to be without.

It also was no one’s business that he had money.

“Right, right,” Billy replied. “Like I said, Phillip. Built like a bull, rich as a king, and has a pretty, golden-haired wife.” Billy let out a sigh.

“Ah, you should see the lass. She comes in often.” Billy looked around.

“Not here tonight. She has a bosom out to here, and hips out to here.” Billy made exaggerated curves away from his body using his hands. “And a wee waist for grabbing.”

Victor resisted the urge to snarl at Billy’s crassly detailed description of Anne. “I’m not married.”

Billy took a thoughtful sip of his pint and let out a noise of satisfaction. “What? Look, fine, deny your money, but why would you deny the wife?”

Victor glanced at Dantes, who had his arms crossed and a huge grin on his scarred face. Irritation flared. “Because I don’t have one.”

“Oh.” Billy blinked a few times. “Well, then your special lady, I suppose.”

Victor took in a deep breath for patience, but the irritation was climbing to fury. “I don’t have a special lady, Billy.”

Billy’s face twisted with confusion. “Who in the blazes is that woman you’re always making eyes at, then? The one who’s always with your brothers’ wives when they come in?”

Dantes howled and slammed a giant fist to the bartop. Victor gave him a death glare and Dantes retreated, laughing hysterically.

Victor bit the inside of his cheek. He absolutely did not make eyes at Anne.

“Phillip,” Billy said to his son, who was hanging on to his father’s every word.

“You should see the women who come in here. Like that one over there.” Billy pointed to some brunette woman nearby.

She was all right, Victor supposed. “These beautiful women come up to Mr. McNab here, rest their pretty, round breasts on the bartop so they smush together like so.” Billy demonstrated with his hands.

“Then they flutter their eyelashes at him.”

“They don’t do that.” Victor had moved on to another order but stayed in this area of the bar to make sure Billy didn’t keep putting the wrong ideas into Phillip’s head.

“Aye, they do. But Mr. McNab doesn’t notice it, you see.” Billy held up a finger of silence when Victor opened his mouth for another retort. “But the second this pretty, fair-haired lass comes in, he watches her every move. Constantly asks what she wants. Spends the whole evening talking to her.”

Victor scowled. “That is a gross exaggeration.”

But Billy ignored him. “For years now, he has been making those eyes at her that he keeps denying. And, apparently, has never done a thing about it.” Billy narrowed his eyes at Victor. “Perhaps my son shouldn’t look up to you.”

Victor swore under his breath and went on with his evening, leaving Billy and Phillip to their own devices.

A few hours later, when the crowd started winding down, Dantes approached him. “You’re all set for me being gone this summer?”

Victor was washing glasses and he handed a wet glass and dry rag over to his brother. Dantes took them automatically and helped dry. “Yes,” Victor replied. “Two extra hands will be around, the same men as last year.”

“Good.” Dantes shifted as if uncomfortable and then cleared his throat. Victor could tell there was something on his brother’s mind, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t bringing it up without coaxing.

Victor shot him a look. “What’s the matter?”

Dantes met his eye and then quickly looked away. “Vivian wants me to convince you to come to Brighton this year.”

“No,” Victor immediately said with sharpness. It was the same reply he gave every summer. However, this was the first time, as far as he knew, that Vivian had asked Dantes to try to convince Victor.

Dantes took another wet glass to dry off. “I think you should consider it.”

“Why?”

Dantes lifted a shoulder, trying—and failing—to appear nonchalant. “You work yourself too hard. You’ve always done nothing but work, Victor. I get it, I really do. I know how important this place is to you. But there’s more to life than work. And everyone would like you there, too.”

Victor didn’t respond and kept his focus on his own task. How would that even work, anyway? Leave Keer in charge while he was gone for three months? He couldn’t leave this place in someone else’s hands, especially for that long.

He looked down the bar at Keer, who was counting the register. How would the man fare? Victor brushed aside the thought. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t happen.

For a few minutes, the brothers washed and dried in silence, and Victor thought the subject had dropped.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t.

“You know, Winthrop’s been dead for eight years now,” Dantes said with a far-too airy tone.

Victor slammed a glass down and the air seemed to still. Even Keer seemed to freeze—Victor could see him out of the corner of his eye. But everyone soon resumed their activity.

Dantes looked down at the slammed glass, then back up at Victor. Mischief danced in his green eyes. “Did I touch a nerve?”

Victor took a deep breath and as he found he couldn’t bring himself to verbally deny it, glared instead.