by Julia Quinn
Robert watched her retreating form and sighed, wondering why he was so surprised that she hadn't fallen into his arms and passionately declared her undying love for him. Of course she was going to be angry with him. Furious. He had been so insane with worry and so racked with guilt that he hadn't for a moment stopped to think how she might react to his sudden reappearance in her life.
He didn't have time to ponder this any further, however, because his aunt came storming out of the dress shop.
“What,” she screeched, “did you say to that poor girl? Don't you think you've done enough to her for one day?”
Robert impaled his aunt with a glare. Really, all of this interference was getting to be most annoying. “I told her that I love her.”
That seemed to take some of the air out of her sails. “You did?”
Robert didn't even bother to nod.
“Well, whatever you said, don't say it again.”
“You want me to tell her that I don't love her?”
His aunt planted her hands on her ample hips. “She is very upset.”
Robert had had just about enough of female meddling. “Damn it, so am I.”
Mrs. Brightbill drew back and placed an affronted hand on her chest. “Robert Kemble, did you just curse in my presence?”
“I have spent the last seven years utterly miserable because of a stupid misunderstanding propagated by a pair of goddamn interfering fathers. Frankly, Aunt Brightbill, your offended sensibilities are not high on my list of priorities just now.”
“Robert Kemble, I have never been more insulted—”
“—in your entire life.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.
“—in my entire life. And I don't care if you are an earl. I'm going to advise that poor, poor, dear of a girl not to marry you.” With a loud harrumph, Mrs. Brightbill turned on her heel and stomped back into the dress shop.
“Hens!” Robert yelled at the door. “All of you! You're nothing but a bunch of hens!”
“Begging your pardon, milord,” said the groom who'd been leaning against the side of the carriage, “but I don't think it's such a bonny time to be a rooster.”
Robert turned a withering glare on the man. “MacDougal, if you weren't so bloody good with the horses—”
“I know, I know, you'd have thrown me out years ago.”
“There is always today,” Robert growled.
MacDougal smiled with the confidence of a man who has become more friend than servant. “Did you notice how quickly she said she didna love you?”
“I noticed,” Robert growled.
“Just wanted to let you know. In case you didna notice.”
Robert whipped his head around. “You do realize that you're rather impertinent for a servant.”
“It's why you keep me on, my lord.”
Robert knew it was true, but he didn't much feel like admitting it just then, so he turned his attention back to the storefront. “You can barricade yourselves all you want,” he yelled, waving his fist in the air. “I'm not leaving!”
“What did he say?” Mrs. Brightbill asked, nursing her bruised feelings with her seventh cup of tea.
“He said he's not leaving,” Harriet replied.
“I could have told you that,” Victoria muttered.
“More tea, please!” Mrs. Brightbill said, waving her now empty cup in the air. Katie hurried over with more of the steaming beverage. The older lady drained the cup and then stood, smoothing her skirts with her hands. “If you'll all excuse me,” she announced to the room at large. Then she toddled off to the retiring room.
“Madame's going to have to buy another chamber pot,” Katie muttered.
Victoria shot her a disapproving look. She'd been trying to educate the girl in manners and deportment for several weeks now. Still, it was a sign of her jangled nerves that she replied, “No more tea. Not another drop for any of you.”
Harriet looked up with an owlish expression and set her cup firmly down.
“This is insanity!” Victoria announced. “He has us trapped.”
“Actually,” Harriet said, “he only has you trapped. I could leave at any time, and he probably wouldn't notice.”
“Oh, he'd notice,” Victoria muttered. “He notices everything. I've never met a more stubborn, disgustingly organized—”
“I'm sure that's quite enough, dear,” Madame Lambert cut in, aware that her shopgirl might be insulting her clientele. “After all, his lordship is Miss Brightbill's cousin.”
“Oh, don't stop on my account,” Harriet said enthusiastically. “I am enjoying myself immensely.”
“Harriet!” Victoria suddenly exclaimed.
“Yes?”
“Harriet.”
“I believe you said that already.”
Victoria stared at the girl, her brain whirring at triple-speed. “Harriet, you might just be the answer to my prayers.”
“I rather doubt I'm the answer to anyone's prayers,” Harriet replied. “I'm forever getting into scrapes and speaking without thinking first.”
Victoria smiled and patted her hand. “I find it most endearing.”
“Do you really? How perfectly lovely. I shall adore having you as my cousin.”
Victoria forced herself not to clench her teeth. “I shan't be your cousin, Harriet.”
“I really wish you would. Cousin Robert isn't so bad once you get to know him.”
Victoria forbore to point out that she already did know the man in question. “Harriet, if you could do me a favor?”
“I should be delighted.”
“I need you to be a distraction.”
“Oh, that will be easy. Mama is forever calling me a distraction.”
“Would you mind terribly running out of the front of the store and distracting his lordship? So that I might slip out the back way?”
Harriet furrowed her brow. “If I do that he won't have a chance to court you.”
Victoria thought herself the holiest kind of saint for not yelling out “Exactly!” Instead she said in gentle tones, “Harriet, I am not going to marry your cousin under any circumstances. But if I do not escape this store soon, we may very well be trapped here all through the night. Robert shows no sign of leaving.”
Harriet appeared undecided.
Victoria decided to play a trump card and whispered, “Your mother might grow testy.”
Harriet turned green. “Very well.”
“Just give me a moment to get ready.” Victoria hastily began to gather her things.
“What shall I say to him?”
“Whatever you like.”
Harriet pursed her lips. “I am not certain that this is a sensible plan.”
Victoria halted in her tracks. “Harriet, I am begging you.”
With a loud sigh and a dramatic shrug of her shoulders, the younger girl pushed open the door to the dress shop and stepped outside.
“Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant,” Victoria whispered, dashing through the back room. She pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders and slipped through the back door.
Freedom! Victoria felt almost giddy.
She was aware that she was enjoying herself perhaps a touch too much; there was something incredibly satisfying about outwitting Robert. Eventually she would have to face her emotions and deal with the fact that the man who had broken her heart twice was back, but for now beating him at his own game would be enough.
“Ha!” she said, grinning like an idiot at the brick wall of a neighboring building. All she had to do was make her way down the rest of the alleyway, take a left, and she'd be out of his clutches. At least for today.
Victoria scurried down the back steps to the shop. But when her foot touched the cobblestones of the alley, she sensed a presence.
Robert! It had to be.
But as she turned she saw not Robert but a huge black-haired man with a frightening scar running down his cheek.
Then he reached for her.
Victoria dropped her satchel an
d screamed.
“Hush up, lassie,” the villain said. “I'm not going to hurt you.”
Victoria saw no reason to believe him, and she delivered a swift kick to his shin before taking off and trying to reach the end of the alleyway, where she prayed she could disappear into the London crowds.
But he was fast, or maybe she just didn't know how to kick hard enough, because he caught her around her waist and hauled her up until her feet no longer touched the ground. She thrashed, screamed, grunted; she wasn't about to let this thug carry her off without inflicting a bit of pain in the process.
She managed to land a sound whack on the side of his head, and he dropped her, letting out a loud expletive in the process. Victoria scrambled to her feet, but she'd only gained a few yards when she felt her assailant's hand close around some of the loose fabric of her cloak.
And then she heard the words she dreaded most.
“Your lordship!” the villain bellowed.
Lordship? Victoria's heart sank. She should have known.
The large man yelled out again. “If you dinna get yourself around the corner, I'll quit before you can dismiss me again!”
Victoria slumped, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see Robert's satisfied smile as he rounded the corner.
Chapter 12
By the time Victoria opened her eyes, Robert was standing in front of her. “Are they coming after you?” he demanded.
“Who?”
“Them. The women,” he said, sounding very much as if he were referring to a new breed of insect.
Victoria tried to yank her arm from his grasp. “They're still drinking tea.”
“Thank the Lord.”
“Your aunt invited me to come live with her, by the way.”
Robert muttered something under his breath.
Silence reigned for a moment, and then Victoria said, “I really must be getting home, so if you would please release my arm…” She smiled tightly, determined to be polite if it killed her.
He crossed his arms, spread his feet until they were shoulder distance apart, and said, “I'm not going anywhere without you.”
“Well, I'm not going anywhere with you, so I really don't see—”
“Victoria, do not strain my temper.”
Her eyes bugged out. “What did you just say?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said!” She smacked his shoulder with the heel of her hand. “How dare you even presume to tell me not to strain your temper. You sent a thug after me! A villain. I could have been injured.”
The burly man who had grabbed her bristled. “Milord,” he said, “I really must interrupt.”
Robert's lips twitched. “Victoria, MacDougal objects to being called a villain. I believe you have hurt his feelings.”
Victoria just stared at him, quite unable to believe the direction the conversation had taken.
“I was most gentle with her,” MacDougal said.
“Victoria,” Robert said. “Perhaps an apology is in order.”
“An apology!” she screeched, having just been pushed a mile past her boiling point. “An apology! I think not.”
Robert turned to his servant with a long-suffering expression. “I don't think she's going to apologize.”
MacDougal sighed magnanimously. “The lassie has had a distressing day.”
Victoria tried to figure out which one of them she wanted to punch first.
Robert said something to MacDougal, and the Scotsman quit the scene, presumably to ready the carriage waiting around the corner.
“Robert,” Victoria said firmly. “I am going home.”
“A fine idea. I'll escort you.”
“Alone.”
“Much too dangerous for a woman by herself,” he said briskly, obviously trying to keep his temper in check under a facade of efficiency.
“I have managed admirably for the last few weeks, thank you very much.”
“Ah yes, the last few weeks,” he said, a muscle starting to twitch in his check. “Shall I tell you how I have spent the last few weeks?”
“I'm sure I can't prevent you from doing so.”
“I spent the last few weeks in a state of sheer terror. I had no clue as to your whereabouts—”
“I can assure you,” she said acerbically, “that I had no idea you were looking for me.”
“Why,” he bit out, “didn't you inform anyone of your plans?”
“And just whom was I supposed to tell? Lady Hollingwood? Oh, yes, we were the best of friends. You? You, who have shown such regard for my well-being?”
“What about your sister?”
“I did tell my sister. I penned her a note just last week.”
Robert thought back over the past month. He had gone to see Eleanor two weeks ago. She couldn't have heard from Victoria by then. He recognized that much of his temper was due to the fact that he'd been scared out of his mind for the past few weeks, and he tried to gentle his tone. “Victoria, would you please come with me? I'll take you to my home, where we might talk in private.”
She stamped on his foot. “Is this another one of your horrid, insulting offers? Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer to call them proposals? Disgusting, degrading—”
“Victoria,” he drawled, “you're going to run out of adjectives very soon.”
“Oh!” she burst out, quite unable to think of anything better, then threw up her arms in exasperation. “I'm leaving.”
His hand closed around the collar of her cloak, and he reeled her back in. “I believe I told you,” he said coolly, “that you are not going anywhere without me.” He began to drag her around the corner to his carriage.
“Robert,” she hissed. “You are causing a scene.”
He cocked a brow. “Do I look as if I care?”
She tried a different tactic. “Robert, just what is it you want of me?”
“Why, to marry you. I thought I'd made that clear.”
“What you made clear,” she said furiously, “is that you want me to be your mistress.”
“That,” he said firmly, “was a mistake. Now I'm asking you to be my wife.”
“Very well. I refuse.”
“Refusal is not an option.”
She looked as if she might go for his throat at any moment. “Last time I checked, the Church of England did not perform marriages without the consent of both parties.”
“Torie,” he said harshly, “do you have any idea how worried I have been about you?”
“Not a bit,” she said with false brightness. “But I'm tired and really would like to be getting home.”
“You fell off the bloody face of the earth. My God, when Lady Hollingwood told me she'd dismissed you…”
“Yes, well, we all know whose fault that was,” she snapped. “But as it happens, I am now exceedingly happy with my new life, so I suppose I should thank you.”
He ignored her. “Victoria, I found out…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I spoke to your sister.”
She went white.
“I didn't know your father had tied you up. I swear I didn't.”
Victoria swallowed and looked away, painfully aware of the tears pricking her eyes. “Don't make me think about that,” she said, hating the choked sound of her voice. “I don't want to think about it. I'm happy now. Please, let me have a bit of stability.”
“Victoria.” His voice was achingly soft. “I love you. I have always loved you.”
She shook her head furiously, still not trusting herself to look at his face.
“I love you,” he repeated. “I want to spend my life with you.”
“It's too late,” she whispered.
He whirled her around. “Don't say that! We are no better than animals if we cannot learn from our mistakes and move forward.”
She lifted her chin. “It isn't that. I don't want to marry you anymore.” And she didn't, she realized. Part of her would always love him, but she'd found an intoxicating independence since she'
d moved to London. She was finally her own woman, and she was discovering that having control over her life was a heady feeling, indeed.
He paled and whispered, “You're just saying that.”
“I mean what I say, Robert. I don't want to marry you.”
“You're angry,” he reasoned. “You're angry, and you want to hurt me, and you have every right to feel that way.”
“I'm not angry.” She paused. “Well, yes, I am, but that's not why I'm refusing you.”
He crossed his arms. “Why, then? Why won't you even listen to me?”
“Because I'm happy now! Is that so difficult for you to understand? I like my position and I love my independence. For the first time in seven years I am perfectly content, and I don't want to upset the balance.”
“You're happy here?” He waved his hand at the storefront. “Here, as a shopgirl?”
“Yes,” she said icily, “I am. I realize that this might be a bit much for your refined tastes to understand—”
“Don't be sarcastic, Torie.”
“Then I suppose I cannot say anything.” She clamped her mouth shut.
Robert began to pull her gently toward his waiting carriage. “I'm sure you'll be more comfortable if we can discuss this privately.”
“No, you mean you'll be more comfortable.”
“I mean we both will,” he bit out, his temper showing signs of fraying.
She started to struggle against him, dimly aware that she was causing a scene but beyond caring about it. “If you think I'm going to get into a carriage with you…”
“Victoria, I give you my word that you will not come to harm.”
“That depends on one's definition of ‘harm,’ don't you think?”
He abruptly let go of her and made a great show of holding his hands in the air in an unthreatening manner. “I give you my vow that I will not lay a hand upon your person.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And why should I believe you?”
“Because,” he growled, clearly losing patience with her, “I have never broken a promise to you.”
She let out a snort, and not a particularly ladylike one at that. “Oh, please.”
A muscle began to work in his throat. Honor had always been of paramount importance to Robert, and Victoria knew that she had just jabbed him right where it hurt.