by Julia Quinn
“God, I meant so little to you, didn't I?” she whispered.
Robert stared at her, unable to believe her words. She had meant everything to him. Everything. He'd promised her the moon, and he'd meant it. He had loved her so much—he would have found a way to pull that sphere from the sky and hand it to her on a platter if she'd only demanded it.
But she'd never really loved him. She'd only loved the idea of marrying a wealthy earl. “Torie,” he said, preparing to give her a blistering setdown.
She never gave him the opportunity. “Don't call me Torie!” she burst out.
“I seem to recall that I was the one to give you that particular nickname,” he reminded her.
“You gave up all rights to it seven years ago.”
“I gave up all rights?” he said, barely able to believe that she was trying to pin blame on him. Memories of that pathetic night flashed through his mind. He'd waited for her in the chilly night air. Waited for more than an hour, every fiber of his being alive with love, desire, and hope. And she'd simply gone to sleep. Gone to sleep without a single care for him.
Fury exploded in his body, and he pulled her closer, his hands biting into her flesh. “You seem to have conveniently forgotten the facts of our relationship, Torie.”
She yanked her arm free with a strength that surprised him. “I said don't call me that. I am not her anymore. I haven't been for years.”
His lips twisted humorlessly. “And who are you, then?”
She stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally she said, “I am Miss Lyndon. Or these days I am more commonly just Lyndon. I am not even Victoria anymore.”
His eyes swept over her face, not quite recognizing what he saw there. There was a certain strength to her that she hadn't possessed at seventeen. And her eyes held a steeliness that unnerved him. “You're right,” he said with a purposefully bored shrug. “You're not Torie. You probably never were.”
Victoria pursed her lips and refused to reply.
“And for that I thank you,” he continued in a mockingly grand voice.
Her eyes flew to his face.
He raised his hand as if making a toast. “To Victoria Mary Lyndon! For providing me with an education no man should lack.”
Victoria's stomach grew queasy and she took a step back. “Don't do this, Robert.”
“For showing me that women are useless and vain—”
“Robert, no.”
“—that they serve one purpose only.” He drew his thumb across her lips with agonizing slowness. “Although I must say they perform that duty exceedingly well.”
Victoria stood stock still, trying so hard not to let her heart leap at the feel of his fingers on her lips.
“But most of all, Miss Victoria Lyndon, I must thank you for showing me the true measure of the heart. The heart, you see, isn't what I thought it was.”
“Robert, I don't want to hear this.”
He moved with startling speed, grabbing her brutally by the shoulders and pinning her against the hedge. “But you will hear this, Victoria. You will hear everything I have to say to you.”
Because she could not shut her ears, she shut her eyes, but this did little to block his over-whelming presence.
“The heart, I have learned, exists only for pain. Love is a poet's dream, but pain—” His fingers tightened around her shoulders. “Pain is so very, very real.”
Without opening her eyes, she whispered, “I know more about pain than you will ever learn.”
“Pain that you failed to snag yourself a fortune, Victoria? That's hardly what I'm talking about. But—” He lifted his hands off her with a flourish. “I no longer feel pain.”
Victoria opened her eyes.
He stared at her face. “I no longer feel anything.”
She stared back, her eyes every bit as hard as his. This was the man who had betrayed her. He'd promised her the moon, and instead stolen her soul. Perhaps she wasn't such a noble person, because she was glad that he'd grown so bitter, glad that his was an unhappy life.
He no longer felt anything? She said exactly what she felt. “Good.”
He raised a brow at the malicious pleasure in her voice. “I can see I did not misjudge you.”
“Good-bye, Robert.” A right, two lefts, and another right. She turned on her heel and stalked away.
Robert stood in the maze for an hour, his eyes unfocused, his body slack.
Torie. Just the sound of her name in his mind made him shake.
He'd lied to her when he told her he no longer felt anything. When he'd first seen her, impossibly sitting there in the maze, he'd felt such a rush of pleasure and relief—as if she could fill the emptiness that had engulfed him these past seven years.
But of course she was the one who'd carved his heart hollow.
He had tried to erase her memory with other women—although never, to his father's great dismay, the sort one might consider marrying. He'd consorted with widows, courtesans, and opera singers. He'd even sought out companions with Victoria's unique coloring, as if thick black hair and blue eyes could mend the rift in his soul. And sometimes, when the ache in his heart was particularly strong, he forgot himself and called out her name in the heat of passion. It was embarrassing, but none of his mistresses were indiscreet enough to mention it. They always received an extra token of gratitude when it happened, and they merely redoubled their efforts to please him.
But none of these women had made him forget. Not a day had gone by when Victoria didn't dance through his brain. Her laughter, her smiles.
Her betrayal. The one thing he could never forgive.
Torie. That thick black hair. Those bright blue eyes. Age had only made her more beautiful.
And he wanted her.
Lord help him, he still wanted her.
But he also wanted revenge.
He just didn't know which he wanted more.
Chapter 5
Victoria awoke the next morning with only one thought in her head: she wanted to stay as far away from Robert Kemble, Earl of Macclesfield, as possible.
She didn't want revenge. She didn't want an apology. She just didn't want to see him.
She rather hoped Robert felt the same way. Lord knew he had seemed uncommonly angry with her the previous night. She shrugged, not quite certain why he would have been quite so furious. She supposed she had pricked his male ego. She was probably his only failure at seduction.
Victoria dressed quickly, mentally preparing herself for breakfast with Neville, which was always an unpleasant chore. That boy had learned how to complain from a master—his mother. If the eggs weren't too cold, then the tea was too hot, or the—
A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Victoria whirled around, her heart suddenly pounding triple-time. Surely Robert wouldn't have the audacity to approach her in her room. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, remembering his surly attitude. He probably would go ahead and do such a foolish thing.
Fury rose within her. Such behavior could cost her her position, and unlike Robert she was not appallingly wealthy. She crossed the room in quick strides and yanked open the door with an angry, “What?”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Lyndon.”
“Oh, Lady Hollingwood, I'm so sorry. I thought you were…That is to say…” Miserably, Victoria let her words trail off. At this rate she wouldn't need Robert to lose her position for her. She was doing a good job of it all by herself.
Lady Hollingwood inclined her head imperiously and entered the room without waiting for an invitation. “I am here to talk with you about your unfortunate disappearance last evening.”
“Master Neville led me into the maze, my lady. I could not find my way out.”
“Do not try to force a boy of only five years to accept the blame for your actions.”
Victoria fisted her hands at her sides.
“Do you realize,” Lady Hollingwood continued, “the extent to which you in
convenienced me? I had a house full of guests to attend to, and I was forced to take time away from them to put my son to bed. You should have been there to do it.”
“I would have been, my lady,” Victoria said, trying not to clench her teeth. “But I was trapped in the maze. Surely you—”
“You may consider this your final warning, Miss Lyndon. I am most displeased with your performance. One more mishap and I shall be forced to toss you out.” Lady Hollingwood whirled on her heel and stalked back into the hall. Then she turned around to say, “Without a reference.”
Victoria stared at the open doorway for several seconds before finally letting out a deep breath. She would have to find a new position. This was unacceptable. Unbearable. It was—
“Victoria.” Robert's frame filled the doorway. “As if the day could get any worse,” she muttered.
Robert raised an insolent brow, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. “Really now, how bad could your day possibly be at this time in the morning?”
She tried to brush past him. “I have to get to work.”
“And feed young Neville?” His hand closed around her arm, and he kicked the door shut behind him. “Not necessary. Neville has gone riding with my good friend Ramsay, who has graciously volunteered to entertain the little brat all morning.”
Victoria shut her eyes for a moment and exhaled, a rush of memory overwhelming her. He had always been so organized, always attending to the smallest of details. She should have known he'd find a way to occupy Neville if he wanted to see her alone.
When she opened her eyes he was idly examining a book on her bedside table. “No more romantic novels?” he asked, holding up the book, a rather dry discussion of the study of astronomy.
Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch. “I don't enjoy romantic novels any longer.”
Robert continued to flip through the pages of the book. “I had no idea you so enjoyed astronomy.”
Victoria swallowed, not about to tell him that the moon and stars made her feel closer to him. Or rather, closer to the person she'd thought he'd been. “My lord,” she said with a sigh. “Why are you doing this?”
He shrugged and sat on her small bed. “Doing what?”
“This!” She threw up her arms. “Coming to my room. Sitting on my bed.” She blinked, as if just realizing what he was doing. “You're on my bed. For God's sake, get off my bed.”
He smiled slowly. “Make me.”
“I am not so infantile that you can rile me with such a challenge.”
“No?” He leaned back against her pillows and crossed his ankles. “Don't worry. My boots are clean.”
Victoria's eyes narrowed, and then she picked up the basin full of water she used for washing and dumped it on his head and chest. “I take that back,” she said acidly. “I can be quite childish when the occasion warrants.”
“Good Christ, woman!” Robert sputtered, leaping off the bed. Water ran in rivulets down his face, soaking his cravat and shirt.
Victoria leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, quite pleased with her handiwork. “Do you know,” she said with a satisfied smile, “but I think that all might be right with the world after all.”
“Don't you dare,” he roared, “try a stunt like that again!”
“And do what? Impugn your honor? I wasn't aware you had any.”
He advanced on her with menacing steps. Victoria probably would have taken the cowardly way out and retreated, but her back was already up against the wall. “You,” he said savagely, “are going to be extremely sorry you did that.”
Victoria couldn't help it. She giggled. “Robert,” she said, lapsing into the familiar. “Nothing could ever make me sorry I did that. For the rest of my life I will treasure this moment. Treasure it. In fact, this may very well be the one thing I am least sorry—”
“Victoria,” he said, his voice deadly. “Shut up.”
She did, but she didn't stop smirking.
He closed the space between them until he was just a heartbeat away. “If you are going to get me wet,” he said, his voice dropping into a husky murmur, “then you are damn well going to dry me off.”
Victoria scooted to the side. “Perhaps a towel…I'd be happy to lend you mine.”
He moved so that he was right in front of her again, and touched her chin with his fingers. His body was hot, but his eyes were even hotter. “I've waited a lifetime for this,” he whispered, pressing his body against hers.
The water from his clothing soaked into Victoria's dress, but she didn't feel anything but the heat from his body. “Don't,” she whispered. “Don't do this.”
His eyes held a strange desperation. “I can't help it,” he said hoarsely. “God help me, I can't help it.”
His lips came down toward hers with agonizing slowness. He hovered for a moment when he was just a hairbreadth away, as if he was trying to hold himself back at the last moment. Then, with stunning swiftness, his hands left her arms and moved to the back of her head, binding her lips to his.
Robert planted his hands into her thick hair, unmindful of the way her hairpins were clattering to the floor. It felt just the same—silky and heavy, and the scent of it was enough to drive him wild. He murmured her name over and over, forgetting for a moment that he hated her, that she'd abandoned him years ago, that she was the reason his heart had been dead for seven long years. He relied on instinct alone, and his body could do nothing but recognize that she was his Torie, and she was in his arms, and she belonged there.
He kissed her savagely, trying to drink in enough of her essence to make up for all their lost years. His hands clutched at her, roving over her body, trying to remember and memorize each curve.
“Torie,” he murmured, trailing his lips down the line of her neck. “I've never…No other woman…”
Victoria let her head loll back, all reason having fled with the first touch of his lips. She'd thought she'd forgotten what it felt like to be held in his arms, to feel the touch of his lips on her skin.
But she hadn't. Every touch was achingly familiar and startlingly exciting. And when he lowered her onto her bed, she couldn't even think to protest.
The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress, and one of his hands wrapped around her calf, squeezing and caressing its way up past her knee.
“I'm going to love you, Torie,” Robert said fiercely. “I'm going to love you until you can't move. I'm going to love you until you can't think.” His hand traveled ever higher, reaching the hot skin of her upper thigh where her stockings ended. “I'm going to love you the way I should have before.”
Victoria groaned with pleasure. She'd spent seven long years without so much as a hug, and she was starved for physical affection. She had known what it was like to be touched and kissed, and she had no idea how much she'd missed it until that very moment. His hand moved, and she dimly realized that he was fumbling with his breeches, opening them and—
“Oh, God, no!” she cried out, pushing at his shoulders. In her mind's eye she could see them from above. Her legs were open, and Robert was settled between them. “No, Robert,” she said again, wriggling out from beneath him. “I can't.”
“Don't do this,” he warned, passion still glazing his eyes. “Don't tease me and—”
“This is all you ever wanted, isn't it?” she demanded, darting off the bed. “All you ever wanted from me.”
“It was certainly one thing,” he muttered, looking as if he were in pain.
“God, I'm so stupid.” She crossed her arms across her chest in a defensive maneuver. “One would think I'd have learned my lesson by now.”
“As one would think I'd have learned mine,” he said bitterly.
“Please go.”
He stopped on his way to the door, just to be contrary. “Please? Such nice manners.”
“Robert, I'm asking you as politely as I know how.”
“But why ask me to leave?” He stepped toward her. “Why fight it, Torie? You know you want
me.”
“That's not the point!” Horrified, Victoria realized what she'd just revealed. She wasn't sure how she managed to get the words out, but she forced herself to lower her voice and said, “For the love of God, Robert, do you understand what you're doing? I am within an inch of being dismissed from this post. I cannot afford to lose it. If you were to be found in my room, I would be tossed out on my ear.”
“Really?” He looked intrigued by the prospect.
She spoke slowly, carefully measuring her words. “I realize that you do not harbor any wealth of good feelings toward me. But for the sake of common decency, please leave!” She hated that she sounded as if she was begging, but she had no choice. At the end of the house party, Robert would leave and resume his life. This was her life.
He leaned forward, his blue eyes sharp and intent. “Why do you care? You can't possibly love this position so much.”
Victoria snapped. She just snapped. “Of course I don't love this position. Do you think I enjoy attending to the needs of the world's most monstrous five-year-old? Do you think I enjoy being spoken to as if I were a dog by his mother? Use your brain, Robert. What there is of it, at least.”
Robert ignored her insult. “Then why stay?”“Because I don't have any choice!” she burst out. “Do you have any idea what it is like not to have any choices? Do you? No, of course you don't.” She turned her back to him, unable to face him while she was shaking with emotion.
“Why don't you marry?”
“Because I—” She swallowed. How could she say that she had never married because she knew no man could ever live up to him? Even if his entire courtship of her had been false, it had been perfect, and she knew that she would never find anyone who could make her as happy as she'd been those two short months.
“Just go,” she said, her words barely audible. “Go.”
“This isn't over, Torie.”
She ignored his pointed use of her nickname. “It has to be over. It should never have begun.”
Robert stared at her a full minute. “You're different,” he finally said.