by Julia Quinn
He moved like a cat, though, and before she knew it, he'd slammed the door closed and was leaning insolently against it. “You're a very beautiful woman,” he said.
“I think you have the wrong idea, my lord,” she said quickly.
He moved forward, stalking her. “I pride myself on always having the right idea.”
“No, what I mean is…Lord Macclesfield…He and I…We…”
He touched her cheek. “Does Macclesfield find such protestations of innocence endearing? I assure you there is no need to playact on my behalf. I am quite pleased with you the way you are. Spoiled goods can be so very tasty.”
Victoria shuddered with revulsion. “My lord,” she said, attempting to reason with him. “I beg of you—”
He chuckled. “I do like to hear a woman beg. I believe I'm going to enjoy you, Miss Lyndon.” He reached out and pulled her harshly against him. “Just a taste of what you've already given so freely. I promise you won't regret it. I'm a most generous man.”
“I don't want your money,” she ground out, twisting her head to the side. “I just want you to leave.”
“We can do this two ways,” he said, his eyes growing menacingly dark. “You can stop your pretending and have a bit of fun, or you can fight me all the way. I don't particularly care which you choose. Either way, I am assured a good time.”
She slapped him across the face.
“That,” he bit out, “was a mistake.” He threw her onto the bed and then pinned her there with the weight of his body.
Victoria began to fight. And then she began to scream.
Robert tried Eversleigh's room first, but he wasn't terribly surprised when he didn't find him. He then searched the guest wing, thinking that Eversleigh might be entertaining himself with a female guest. No luck, although he did discover that Lord Winwood's wife happened to be having an affair with the husband of Lord Winwood's mistress.
Robert didn't even bat an eyelash. Such behavior was common enough among his set, much as it was beginning to sicken him.
He then tried the card room, knowing that Eversleigh had a fondness for gambling.
“Eversleigh?” one of the players said. “He was here earlier.”
“Was he?” Robert asked, trying to ignore the speculative glances from his friends. It was common knowledge that the two men were not friendly. “Do you know where he went?”
“I saw him heading upstairs,” someone said.
Robert stifled a groan. He would have to search the entire guest wing again.
“Most odd,” someone else added. “He used the servants' stairs.”
The sick feeling that had been rolling around in Robert's stomach all evening exploded with blinding terror. He ran from the room, taking the steps on the servants' stairs three at a time.
And then he heard the screams.
Victoria. If he failed her now…
Robert couldn't even complete the thought.
Victoria refused to resign herself to her fate. She fought like a madwoman, clawed like a cat. She knew that her actions only made Eversleigh angrier, but she could not allow herself to be raped with nary a protest.
But he was strong. Much stronger than she was, and it wasn't difficult for him to hold her down while he tore at her clothing. He lifted his hand from her mouth to yank at the neckline of her gown, and she seized the opportunity to scream. Loud.
“Shut up, you bitch,” he hissed, twisting her head sideways and forcing her cheek into the pillow. Victoria bit his hand.
“Goddamn, you little whore!” he yelled. He grabbed another pillow and jammed it over her face.
Suddenly Victoria couldn't breathe. Good Lord, did he mean to kill her? Her terror increased until she thought she might go mad. She kicked and scraped, but she couldn't see a thing, and she was growing weaker.
And then, just when the world began to turn black around the edges, she heard a splintering crash, followed by a cry of rage unlike anything in her comprehension.
Eversleigh was abruptly lifted from her, and Victoria immediately threw the pillow aside and scrambled off the bed. She ran to a corner, her lungs burning with every breath and movement, but she had to get off that bed. She had to.
The room filled with noise. Something crashed, someone yelled. There was a sickening sound that could only be flesh against bone. But Victoria didn't look up. She couldn't even open her eyes. All she wanted to do was block out the terror.
Finally, however, she forced herself to face her demons, and when she did she saw Robert. He had knocked Eversleigh to the ground and was straddling him, beating his fist mercilessly into Eversleigh's face.
“Robert,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank God.”
Robert made no indication he'd heard her. He just kept pummeling Eversleigh.
“Robert,” she said, louder this time. She was still in a daze, and she couldn't stop shaking, and she needed him.
But Robert was beyond communication. He said nothing, just grunted and yelled, and when he finally looked up at Victoria, there was something wild and primitive in his eyes. Finally, still straddling the now unconscious Eversleigh, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and said, “Did he hurt you?”
Her mouth opened a fraction of an inch, but she couldn't say anything.
“Did he hurt you?” Robert's eyes burned with rage, and Victoria realized in that instant that if she said yes, he would kill Eversleigh. She shook her head frantically. It wasn't a lie. Not really. Eversleigh hadn't hurt her. Not in the way Robert meant.
Robert dropped the unconscious man and rushed to her side. He crouched down beside her and touched her cheek. His hand was shaking. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head again.
“Victoria, I—”
He was interrupted by a groan coming from the middle of the room. Robert cursed under his breath and then muttered a quick “Excuse me.” He stalked back to Eversleigh, picked him up by his collar and the seat of his pants, and tossed him into the hall, where he landed in a crumpled heap. Robert closed the door gently and made his way back to Victoria's side.
She was shaking violently, the tremors rocking her entire body. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound. Robert felt panic rise up within him anew. What had that bastard done to her?
“Shhhh,” he crooned, having no idea what he would say that could make her feel better. “Shhhh.”
“Robert,” she gasped. “Robert.”
“I'm here, my love.” He reached down and picked her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck with surprising swiftness. She was grasping him frantically, as if letting go would mean the very difference between life and death.
He moved to the bed, intending to sit down and hold her until her shaking subsided, but she suddenly bucked in his arms. “Not the bed!” she said desperately. “Not there.”
Robert looked down at the tangled sheets and was sickened. When he'd burst into the room, Eversleigh had had a pillow over Victoria's face. She could have been killed.
The thought was like a punch in the gut.
Robert looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished, so he sat down on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. He held Victoria silently for several minutes.
Finally she looked up, her eyes entreating. “I tried to fight him,” she said. “I did.”
“I know you did, Torie.”
“He was too strong.” She looked as if she was trying to convince him of something that was very important to her. “He was stronger than me.”
“You were wonderful,” he said, trying to ignore the tears that were pricking at his eyes.
“But he put a pillow over me. And then I couldn't breathe. And I couldn't fight.” She began to shake anew. “I didn't want to let him…I didn't want it. I swear I didn't want it.”
He gripped her shoulders and turned her until they were nose to nose. “This was not your fault, Torie,” he said fiercely. “Do not blame yourself.”
“If you hadn't come—”
“But I did.” Robert settled her back into his arms and held her tightly. It would be a long time before she stopped shaking, a long time until Eversleigh's face was no longer imprinted on her brain.
It would be a long time for him, too, he realized. He was not unaware that this incident was at least partly his fault. If he hadn't been so damned angry at her this afternoon and so damned eager to get her alone, he wouldn't have hauled her from the hall into the nearest room. A room that happened to belong to Eversleigh. And that evening—flaunting convention by insisting that he lead Victoria into dinner. Most of the guests would believe his story that they were childhood friends, but Eversleigh knew there was more.
Of course the bastard would think that Victoria was a loose woman. Eversleigh had always been the sort to believe that any female without the protection of a powerful family was his for the plucking. Robert should have realized that from the first, and taken measures to protect her.
He didn't know how long he sat there on the ground, cradling Victoria in his arms. It could have been an hour; it could have been just ten minutes. But eventually her breathing evened out, and he knew she had fallen asleep. He didn't want to speculate on what her dreams might be that night; he prayed she didn't dream at all.
Gently he set her down on her bed. He knew she had an aversion to the spot after Eversleigh's attempted rape, but he didn't know where else to put her. He couldn't bring her to his room. Such an action could only bring about her ruin, and Robert had realized that, regardless of her actions seven years earlier, he couldn't bring himself to destroy her life so completely. The irony of it nearly unmanned him. All these years he'd dreamed about her, fantasized about the revenge he might enact if he saw her again.
But now, with vengeance within his sights, he just couldn't do it. Something within her still spoke to his heart, and he knew he could never live with himself if he purposefully caused her pain.
Robert leaned down and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Until tomorrow, Torie,” he whispered. “We'll talk tomorrow. I'm not going to let you leave me again.”
When he left the room he noticed that Eversleigh was gone. With grim determination, he set out to find him. He had to make certain that the bastard understood one simple fact: if Eversleigh even so much as breathed a syllable of Victoria's name ever again, the next beating Robert gave him wouldn't stop within an inch of his life.
Victoria woke up the next morning and tried to go about her daily routine as if nothing had happened. She washed her face, pulled on her dress, ate breakfast with Neville.
But every now and then she'd notice little tremors in her hands. And she found herself trying not to blink, for every time she closed her eyes she saw Eversleigh's face as he descended upon her.
She conducted her morning lesson with Neville, then accompanied the boy down to the stables for his riding lesson. Normally she welcomed these brief respites from the demands of her job, but today she was loath to part with the little boy's company.
The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts.
Robert saw her from across the lawn, and he dashed out to intercept her before she reentered the house. “Victoria!” he called out, his voice a touch breathless from running.
She looked at him, her eyes flashing with a moment of terror before filling with relief.
“I'm sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
“You didn't. Well, actually you did, but I'm rather glad it's only you.”
Robert forced down the fresh wave of fury rising within him. He hated to see her so fearful. “Don't worry about Eversleigh. He left for London early this morning. I saw to it.”
Her entire body sagged, as if all the tension she was carrying drained right out of her. “Thank God,” she breathed. “Thank you.”
“Victoria, we must talk.”
She swallowed. “Yes, of course. I must thank you properly. If you hadn't—”
“stop thanking me!” he exploded.
She blinked, confused.
“What happened last night was as much my fault as anyone else's,” he said bitterly.
“No!” she cried out. “No, don't say that. You saved me.”
Part of Robert wanted nothing more than to let her go on thinking him a hero. She had always made him feel big and strong and noble, and he had missed that after their separation. But his conscience wouldn't allow him to accept gratitude where none was due.
He let out a shaky breath. “We will discuss that later. Right now there are more pressing matters.”
She nodded and let him lead her away from the house. She looked up with questioning eyes when she realized they were heading for the hedgerow maze.
“We'll need privacy,” he explained.
She allowed herself a small smile, the first she'd felt all day. “Just so long as I know the way out.”
He chuckled and wended his way through the maze until they reached a stone bench. “Two lefts, a right, and two more lefts,” he whispered.
She smiled again as she smoothed her skirts down and sat. “It is engraved on my brain.”
Robert sat beside her, his expression suddenly growing a touch hesitant. “Victoria— Torie.”
Victoria's heart fluttered at the way he switched to the use of her nickname.
Robert's face moved expressively, as if he was seeking out the best words. Finally he said, “You cannot stay here.”
She blinked. “But I thought you said that Eversleigh has left for London.”
“He has. But that doesn't matter.”
“It matters a great deal to me,” she said.
“Torie, I can't leave you here.”
“What are you saying?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I cannot leave knowing that you are unprotected. What happened last night could easily happen again.”
Victoria looked at him steadily. “Robert, last night was not the first time I have been subjected to unwanted attentions from a gentleman.”
His entire body tensed. “Was that supposed to set my mind at ease?”
“I have never before been attacked with such force,” she continued. “I am merely trying to say that I have become quite adept at fending off advances.”
He gripped her shoulders. “If I hadn't intervened last night, he would have raped you. Possibly even killed you.”
She shuddered and looked away. “I can't imagine that anything like…like…that will ever come to pass again. And I can protect myself against the odd pinch and lewd word.”
“That is unacceptable!” he exploded. “How can you let yourself be demeaned that way?”
“No one can demean me but myself,” she said in a very low voice. “Don't forget that.”
He let his hands drop away from her shoulders and stood. “I know that, Torie. But you shouldn't have to remain in this intolerable situation.”
“Oh, really?” She let out a hollow laugh. “And how am I supposed to extricate myself from this situation, as you so delicately put it? I have to eat, my lord.”
“Torie, don't be sarcastic.”
“I'm not being sarcastic! I have never been more thoroughly serious in my life. If I do not work as a governess, I will starve. I don't have any other choice.”
“Yes, you do,” he whispered urgently, dropping to his knees before her. “You can come with me.”
She stared at him in shock. “With you?”
He nodded. “To London. We can leave today.”
Victoria swallowed nervously, trying to suppress the urge to throw herself into his arms. Something burst to life within her, and she suddenly remembered exactly how she'd felt so many years ago when he had first said he wanted to marry her. But heartbreak had made her wary, and she measured her words carefully before asking, “What exactly are you proposing, my lord?”
“I'll buy you a house. And hire a staff.”
Victoria felt every last hope for the future drain
away. Robert wasn't proposing marriage. And he never would. Not if he made her his mistress first. Men didn't marry their mistresses.
“You'll never want for anything,” he added.
Except love, Victoria thought miserably. And respectability. “What would I have to do in return?” she asked, not because she had any intention of accepting his insulting offer. She just wanted to hear him say it.
But he looked dumbfounded, startled that she'd voiced the question. “You…Ah…”
“What, Robert?” she asked sharply.
“I just want to be with you,” he said, clasping her hands. His eyes slid away from hers, as if he realized just how lame his words were.
“But you won't marry me,” she said, her voice dull. How silly of her to have thought, even for a moment, that they could be happy again.
He stood. “Surely you didn't think…”
“Obviously not. How could I possibly think that you, the Earl of Macclesfield, would deign to marry a vicar's daughter?” Her voice grew shrill. “Goodness, I've probably been plotting to fleece you out of your fortune for seven years.”
Robert winced at her unexpected attack. Her words poked at something unpleasant in his heart—something that felt a bit like guilt. The image of Victoria as a greedy adventuress had never rung completely true, but what else was there for him to think? He'd seen her himself, lying in bed, sleeping soundly on the night they were supposed to elope. He felt the protective armor around his heart lock back into place and said, “Sarcasm doesn't become you, Victoria.”
“Fine.” She waved her arm at him. “Then our discussion is concluded.”
His hand shot out like a bullet and wrapped around her wrist. “Not quite.”
“Release me,” she said in a low voice.
Robert took a deep breath, trying to use the time to get over the incredibly strong urge to shake her. He couldn't believe the little nitwit would rather stay here at a job she detested than come with him to London. “I am going to say this one more time,” he said, his hard stare drumming into her. “I am not going to leave you here to be pawed at by every unscrupulous male who happens along.”
She laughed, which really infuriated him. “Are you saying,” She asked, “that the only unscrupulous male with whom I may consort is you?”