by Julia Quinn
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and intense. “I have never broken a direct promise to you or anyone. I might not have always treated you with the”—he swallowed convulsively—“respect you deserve, but I have never broken a vow.”
Victoria exhaled, knowing that he spoke the truth. “You will deliver me home?”
He nodded curtly. “Where do you live?”
She gave him her address, which he repeated to MacDougal.
He reached for her, but Victoria pulled her arm away and instead circled around him and hoisted herself into the conveyance.
Robert exhaled raggedly, resisting the urge to plant his hands on her bottom and forcibly shove her into the carriage. Damn, but she knew how to try his patience. He took another deep breath—he rather thought he would need several of them before today's journey was through—and climbed into the carriage beside her.
He took great pains to avoid touching her as he entered, but her scent was everywhere. She always managed to smell like springtime, and Robert was struck by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and desire. He took yet another deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Somehow he had been granted another chance at love, and he was determined not to muck things up this time.
“You wished to say?” she asked primly.
He closed his eyes for a moment. She certainly had no plans to make this easy on him. “All I wished to say is that I'm sorry.”
Her eyes flew to his face in surprise. “You're sorry?” she echoed.
“For believing the worst of you. I let my father talk me into things I knew were not true.”
She remained silent, forcing him to continue with his painful speech. “I knew you so well, Torie,” he whispered. “I knew you like I knew myself. But when you didn't arrive at our assignation…”
“You thought I was an adventuress,” she said, her voice flat.
He glanced out the window for a moment before returning his eyes to her pale, drawn face. “I didn't know what else to think,” he said lamely.
“You might have remained in the district long enough to ask me what had happened,” she said. “There was no need to jump to such unpleasant conclusions.”
“I went to your window.”
She gasped. “You did? I-I never saw you.”
When Robert spoke, his voice was shaky. “Your back was to the window. You were lying in bed. You looked quite peaceful, as if you hadn't a care in the world.”
“I was crying,” she said in a hollow voice.
“I couldn't have known that.”
A hundred emotions played across her face, and for a moment Robert was sure that she was going to lean forward and place her hand on his, but in the end she merely crossed her arms and said, “You behaved badly.”
Robert forgot all his vows to control his temper. “And you didn't?” he returned.
She stiffened. “I beg your pardon.”
“We are both guilty of mistrust, Victoria. You cannot lay all the blame at my door.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your sister told me what you thought of me. That I'd never intended anything more than seduction. That I had never been serious in my courtship of you.” He leaned forward and stopped himself a split second before grabbing her hands with his. “Look into your heart, Victoria. You know I loved you. You know I love you still.”
Victoria took a deep breath and exhaled. “I suppose I owe you an apology as well.”
Robert let out a ragged sigh, exquisite relief surging through him. This time he let himself take her hands into his. “Then we can begin anew,” he said fervently.
Victoria tried to tell herself to pull her hands away, but the feeling was too achingly tender. His skin was warm, and she was so tempted just to lean into his waiting embrace. It wouldn't be so dreadful to feel loved once again—to feel treasured.
She looked up at him. His blue eyes were staring at her with an intensity that both frightened and thrilled her. She felt something touch her cheek, then realized it was a tear. “Robert, I—” She stopped, realizing that she didn't know what to say.
He leaned forward, and Victoria saw that he meant to kiss her. And then, to her horror, she realized that she wanted his lips on hers. “No!” she burst out, as much for her own benefit as for his. She pulled her gaze away from him and then pulled her hands away, too.
“Victoria—”
“Stop.” She sniffled and fixed her gaze on the window. “You don't understand me anymore.”
“Then tell me what I need to know. Tell me what I need to do to make you happy.”
“Don't you understand? You can't make me happy!”
Robert flinched, unable to believe how wounded he was by that one statement. “Would you care to explain yourself?” he said stiffly.
She let out a hollow laugh. “You gave me the moon, Robert. No, you did more than that. You picked me up and put me right on it.” There was a long, painful pause, and then she said, “And then I fell. And it hurt so much when I landed. I don't want that again.”
“It won't happen again. I am older and wiser now. We are both older and wiser.”
“Don't you see? It has already happened twice.”
“Twice?” he echoed, thinking that he very much didn't want to hear what she had to say.
“At the Hollingwoods,” she said, her voice oddly flat. “When you asked me to be your—”
“Don't say it.” His voice was curt.
“Don't say what? ‘Mistress’? It's a fine time for you to suddenly develop scruples.”
He paled. “I never knew you could be so vindictive.”
“I'm not being vindictive. I'm being honest. And I didn't just fall off the moon that time. You pushed me.”
Robert took a deep and ragged breath. It was not in his nature to beg, and part of him wanted desperately to defend himself. But he wanted Victoria more, and so he said, “Then let me make amends, Torie. Let me marry you and give you children. Let me spend every day of my life worshipping the ground you walk upon.”
“Robert, don't.” Her voice was shaky, and he knew he'd seen something flare in her eyes when he mentioned children.
“Don't what?” he tried to joke. “Worship the ground you walk upon? It's too late. I already do that.”
“Don't make this so hard,” she said, her voice only slightly more than a whisper.
His lips parted in amazement. “And why the hell should I not? You tell me why I should make it easy for you to walk out of my life again.”
“I never walked out on you,” she shot back. “You left. You.”
“Neither of us is blameless. You were quick to believe the worst of me as well.”
Victoria didn't say anything.
He leaned forward, his eyes intense. “I will not give up on you, Victoria. I'll haunt you day and night. I'll make you admit that you love me.”
“I don't,” she whispered.
The carriage came to a halt, and Robert said, “We seem to have arrived at your home.”
Victoria immediately gathered up her belongings and reached for the door. But before she touched the polished wood, Robert's hand descended onto hers.
“Just one moment,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“What do you want, Robert?”
“A kiss.”
“No.”
“Just one kiss. To get me through the night.” Victoria stared into his eyes. They were hot ice, burning straight into her soul. She licked her lips; she couldn't help it.
Robert's hand moved to the back of her head. His touch was achingly soft. If he had applied pressure or tried to force her, she knew she could have resisted. But his gentleness was disarming, and she couldn't pull away.
His lips touched hers, brushing back and forth until he felt her soften beneath him. His tongue moistened one corner of her mouth, then the other, then outlined the edge of her full lips.
Victoria thought she might melt.
But then he pulled away. His hands were
shaking. Victoria looked down and realized that hers were, too.
“I know my limits,” he said in a low voice.
Victoria blinked, realizing with despair that she didn't know her own. Another second of his sensual torture and she would have been on the floor of the carriage, begging him to love her. Shame colored her face and she left the carriage, letting MacDougal take her trembling hand in his to help her down. Robert followed immediately after her, and then swore viciously when he realized where he was.
Victoria didn't quite live in the worst part of town, but it came damn close. It took Robert a good ten seconds before he was calm enough to say, “Please tell me you don't live here.”
She gave him an odd look and pointed to a fourth-story window. “Right there.”
Robert's throat worked violently. “You…are not…going to remain here,” he said, barely able to get the words out.
Victoria ignored him and began to walk toward her building. Robert had his arm around her waist within seconds. “I don't want to hear another word out of you,” he barked. “You are coming home with me this instant.”
“Let go of me!” Victoria struggled under his grasp, but Robert held firm.
“I will not permit you to remain in such a dangerous neighborhood.”
“I can't imagine I'd be any safer with you,” she retorted.
Robert softened his grip, but refused to relinquish his hold on her arm. Then he felt something on his foot and looked down.
“Bloody frigging hell!” He kicked his foot out wildly, sending a good-sized rat out into the street.
Victoria took advantage of his predicament by wrenching her arm from his grasp, and she ran to the relative safety of her building.
“Victoria!” Robert bellowed, following her. But when he yanked the door open, all he saw was a fat old lady with blackened teeth.
“And 'oo might you be?” she demanded.
“I am the earl of Macclesfield,” he roared, “and get the hell out of my way.”
The woman planted her hand against his chest. “Not so fast, yer lordship.”
“Remove your hand from my person, if you please.”
“Remove yer sorry ass from my house, if you please,” she cackled. “We don't allow men in 'ere. This be a respectable house.”
“Miss Lyndon,” Robert bit out, “is my affianced bride.”
“Didn't look that way to me. In fact, it looked like she didn't want anything to do with you.”
Robert looked up and saw Victoria peering at him through a window. Rage poured through him. “I will not stand for this, Victoria!” he bellowed.
She merely shut the window.
For the first time in his life Robert truly learned the meaning of seeing red. When he'd thought Victoria had betrayed him seven years earlier, he'd been too pathetically heartbroken for this brand of fury. But now—Goddamn it, he'd been bloody frantic for more than two weeks, not knowing what the devil had happened to her. And now that he'd finally found her, not only had she thrown his proposal of marriage back in his face, but she insisted on living in a neighborhood peopled with drunks, thieves, and whores.
And rats.
Robert watched as a street urchin picked the pocket of an unsuspecting man across the street. He exhaled raggedly. He was going to have to get Victoria out of this neighborhood, if not for her safekeeping then for the sake of his sanity.
It was a miracle she hadn't been raped or murdered already.
He turned back to the landlady just in time to see the door slam in his face and hear a key turn in the lock. He crossed the short distance to the spot just below Victoria's window and started to eye the side of the building, looking for possible footholds for his ascent to her room.
“Milord.” MacDougal's voice was soft but insistent.
“If I can get my foot up to that still, I should be able to make it all the way up,” Robert growled.
“Milord, she's safe enough for the night.”
Robert whirled around. “Do you have any idea what kind of neighborhood this is?”
MacDougal stiffened at his tone. “Begging your pardon, milord, but I grew up in a neighborhood like this.”
Robert's face immediately softened. “Damn. I'm sorry, MacDougal, I didn't mean—”
“I know you didna.” MacDougal grasped Robert's upper arm and gently began to lead him away. “Your lady needs to stew on this for an evening, milord. Leave her be for a touch. You can talk to her on the morrow.”
Robert gave the building one last scowl. “Do you really think she'll be all right for the night?”
“You heard the lock on that door. She's as safe as if she were tucked away in Mayfair with you. Probably safer.”
Robert gave his next scowl to MacDougal. “I'm coming after her tomorrow.”
“Of course you are, milord.”
Robert put his hand on the carriage and exhaled. “Am I mad, MacDougal? Am I completely, utterly, incurably mad?”
“Well, now, milord, that's not my place to say.”
“How delightfully ironic that now would be the time you finally decide to exercise a bit of verbal circumspection.”
MacDougal only laughed.
Victoria sat on her narrow bed and hugged her arms to her body, as if curling herself into the tiniest ball possible would make all this confusion go away.
She had finally begun to carve out a life with which she could be content. Finally! Was it so much to want a bit of stability? Of permanence? She'd had seven years of rude employers threatening her with dismissal at every turn. She'd found security at Madame Lambert's dress shop. And friendship. Madame clucked about like a mother hen, always concerned about the welfare of her employees, and Victoria adored the camaraderie among the shopgirls.
Victoria swallowed as she realized she was crying. She hadn't had a friend in years. She couldn't count the number of times she'd fallen asleep clutching Ellie's letters to her chest. But letters couldn't give a gentle pat on the arm, and letters never smiled.
And Victoria had been so very lonely.
Seven years ago Robert had been more than the love of her life. He'd been her very best friend. Now he was back, and he said he loved her. Victoria choked on a sob. Why did he have to do this now? Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?
And why did she still have to care so much? She didn't want to have anything to do with him, much less marry him, and still her heart raced with every touch. She could feel his presence across a room, and one heavy-lidded gaze had the power to make her mouth go completely dry.
And when he kissed her…
Deep in her heart, Victoria knew that Robert had the power to make her happy beyond her wildest dreams. But he also had the power to crush her heart, and he'd already done so once—no, twice.
And Victoria was so tired of the pain.
Chapter 13
Robert was waiting on her doorstep when she left for work the next morning. Victoria wasn't particularly surprised; he was nothing if not stubborn. He'd probably been planning his return all night.
She let out a deep breath. “Good morning, Robert.” It seemed infantile to pretend to ignore him.
“I've come to escort you to Madame Lambert's,” he said.
“That is very kind of you, but wholly unnecessary.”
He stepped directly in her path, forcing her to look up at him. “I beg to differ with you. It is never safe for a young woman to walk in London unescorted, but it is especially dangerous in this area.”
“I have managed to get myself to the dress shop every day for the past month,” she said.
His mouth settled into a grim line. “I can assure you that does not set my mind at ease.”
“Setting your mind at ease has never been at the top of my list of priorities.”
He clucked at her. “My, my, we have a pointy tongue this morning.”
His condescending tone ate at her. “Have I ever told you how much I detest the use of the royal ‘we’? It reminds me of all those odi
ous employers I had over the years. Nothing like a good ‘we’ to put the governess in her place.”
“Victoria, we are not discussing being a governess, nor are we discussing pronouns, either singular or plural.”
She tried to push past him, but he stood firmly in her way.
“I am only going to repeat this one more time,” he said. “I will not permit you to remain in this hellhole for another day.”
She counted to three before she said, “Robert, you are not responsible for my welfare.”
“Somebody damn well has to be. You obviously don't know how to take proper care of yourself.”
She counted to five before she said, “I am going to ignore that comment.”
“I cannot believe you took lodgings here. Here!” Robert gave his head a disgusted shake.
She counted to ten before she said, “This is all I can afford, Robert, and I am perfectly happy with it.”
He learned forward in an intimidating manner. “Well, I am not. Let me tell you how I spent last night, Victoria.”
“Please do,” she muttered. “As if I could stop you.”
“I spent last night wondering how many men have tried to attack you in the last month.”
“None since Eversleigh.”
He either didn't hear her or didn't want to hear her. “Then I wondered how often you have to cross the street to avoid the prostitutes loitering on the street corners.”
She smiled archly. “Most of the prostitutes are very nice. I had tea with one just the other day.” That was a lie, but she knew it would needle him.
He shuddered. “Then I wondered how many damn rats share your room with you.”
Victoria tried to force herself to count to twenty before responding, but her temper wouldn't allow it. She could take his insults and his overbearing attitude, but an attack on her housekeeping skills—well, that was really too much. “You could eat off the floor of my room,” she hissed.
“I'm sure the rats do,” he replied with an acerbic twist of his lips. “Really, Victoria, you cannot stay in this vermin-infested area. It isn't safe, and it isn't healthy.”
She stood ramrod straight, holding her hands stiffly at her sides to keep herself from smacking him. “Robert, have you noticed that I am beginning to get just a trifle irritated with you?”