by Julia Quinn
Victoria stared at him, dumbfounded.
He motioned to the pie pan. “Would you mind?”
She blinked a few times and then snapped her mouth closed when she realized it was hanging open. With an irritated little exhalation she pushed the pie pan in his direction and spent the next ten minutes watching him eat his breakfast.
The ride from Faversham to Ramsgate should have taken about four hours, but they had barely begun when Robert's face suddenly took on a what-a-marvelous-idea expression and he banged on the front of the carriage to signal MacDougal to stop.
The carriage rolled to a halt, and Robert hopped down with what Victoria deemed rather irritating energy and good cheer. He exchanged a few words with MacDougal and then reentered the carriage.
“What was that all about?” Victoria asked.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“I rather think I've had a few too many surprises this past week,” she muttered.
“Oh, come now, you must admit that I have made your life more exciting.”
She snorted. “If one calls being abducted exciting, I suppose you have a point, my lord.”
“I prefer it when you call me Robert.”
“Pity for you, then, that I was not put on this earth to cater to your preferences.”
He only smiled. “I do love sparring with you.”
Victoria's hands clenched at her sides. Trust him to find joy in her insults. She peered out the window and realized that MacDougal had pulled off the Canterbury Road. She turned back to Robert. “Where are we going? I thought you said we were going to Ramsgate.”
“We are going to Ramsgate. We are just making a slight detour to Whitsable.”
“Whitsable? Whyever?”
He leaned forward and grinned rakishly. “Oysters.”
“Oysters?”
“The best in the world.”
“Robert, I do not want oysters. Please take me directly to Ramsgate.”
He raised his brows. “I did not realize you were so eager for a few days alone with me. I shall have to instruct MacDougal to proceed to Ramsgate posthaste.”
Victoria nearly jumped out of her seat in frustration. “That isn't what I meant, and you well know it!”
“So then we may continue on to Whitsable?”
Victoria felt rather like a cat who has found itself hopelessly entangled in a ball of string. “You won't listen to me no matter what I say.”
Robert's face turned instantly grave. “That is not true. I always listen to you.”
“Perhaps, and if you do, then you toss my opinions and requests over your shoulder and do what you please anyway.”
“Victoria, the only time I have done that was in regard to your foolish desire to live in London's worst slum.”
“It isn't the worst slum,” she ground out, more out of habit than anything else.
“I refuse to discuss this further.”
“Because you won't listen to what I have to say!”
“No,” he said, leaning forward, “it is because we have discussed that topic to death. I will not allow you to put yourself in constant danger.”
“It isn't your place to ‘allow’ me anything.”
“You are not usually so addlebrained as to endanger yourself out of spite.” He crossed his arms, his mouth settling into a grim line. “I did what I thought was best.”
“And so you kidnapped me,” she said bitterly.
“If you recall I offered you the option of residing with my relatives. You refused.”
“I want to be independent.”
“One doesn't have to be alone to be independent.”
Victoria couldn't think of a suitable rebuttal to that statement, so she remained silent.
“When I marry you,” Robert said softly, “I want it to be a partnership in every sense of the word. I want to consult you on matters of land management and tenant care. I want us to decide together how to raise our children. I don't know why you are so certain that loving me means losing yourself.”
She turned away, not wanting him to see the emotion welling up in her eyes.
“Someday you will realize what it means to be loved.” He let out a weary sigh. “I just wish it would be soon.”
Victoria pondered that statement the rest of the way to Whitsable.
They stopped to eat at a cheerful inn with outdoor dining. Robert scanned the sky and said, “It looks as if it might rain, but not, I think, in the next hour. Would you like to eat outside?”
She offered him a tentative smile. “The sun feels lovely.”
Robert took her arm and escorted her to a little table with a view of the water. He was feeling very optimistic. He sensed that he had somehow gotten through to her in their conversation in the carriage. She wasn't ready yet to admit that she loved him, but he thought she might be a bit closer to it than she'd been the day before.
“The village of Whitsable has been famous for its oysters since the time of the Romans,” he said as they sat down.
She plucked at her napkin with nervous fingers. “Really?”
“Yes. I don't know why we never came here when we were courting.”
She smiled ruefully. “My father wouldn't have allowed it. And it would have been a long drive to the north Kent coast.”
“Do you ever wonder what our lives might be like if we'd married seven years ago?”
Her eyes slid to her lap. “All the time,” she whispered.
“We certainly would have dined here already,” he said. “I wouldn't have let seven years go by without a meal of fresh oysters.”
She didn't say anything.
“I would imagine we would have already had a child. Perhaps two or three.” Robert knew he was being a touch cruel. Despite Victoria's distaste for the life of a governess, she had a maternal streak a mile wide. He was purposefully tugging on her heartstrings by mentioning the children they might have had together.
“Yes,” she said, “you're probably correct.”
She looked so forlorn that Robert didn't have the heart to continue. He planted a bright smile on his face and said, “Oysters, I understand, are supposed to have certain amorous properties.”
“I'm sure you would like to believe that.” Victoria looked visibly relieved that he'd changed the subject, even though the new topic was beyond racy.
“No, no, it's considered common knowledge.”
“Much of what is considered common knowledge has no basis in fact,” she countered.
“A good point. Being of a scientific bent myself, I don't like to accept anything as true unless it has been subjected to rigorous experimentation.”
Victoria chuckled.
“In fact,” Robert said, tapping his fork against the tablecloth, “I think that an experiment might be just the thing.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you proposing?”
“Simply that you eat some oysters this afternoon. Then I shall monitor you most closely”—he wiggled his eyebrows in a comical manner—” to see if you appear to like me any better.”
Victoria laughed. She couldn't help herself. “Robert,” she said, aware that she was beginning to enjoy herself despite her best intentions to remain a grouch, “that is the most harebrained scheme I have ever heard.”
“Perhaps, but even if it doesn't work, I shall certainly enjoy the monitoring.”
She laughed again. “Just as long as you don't partake of the oysters yourself. If you ‘like’ me any better, I may find myself being carted off to France.”
“Now there is a thought.” He pretended to give the matter serious consideration. “Ramsgate is a continental port, after all. I wonder if one can be married faster in France.”
“Don't even think about it,” she warned.
“My father would probably have a fit of apoplexy were I to be married in a Catholic ceremony,” he mused. “We Kembles have always been rather militantly Protestant.”
“Oh, goodness,” Victoria said, tears of mir
th forming in her eyes. “Can you imagine what my father would do? The good vicar of Bellfield? He would expire on the spot. I'm sure of it.”
“He'd insist on remarrying us himself,” Robert said. “And Eleanor would probably charge admission.”
Victoria's face softened. “Oh, Ellie. I do miss her.”
“Haven't you had a chance to visit with her?” Robert sat back to allow the innkeeper to place a platter of oysters on the table.
Victoria shook her head. “Not since—well, you know. But we write to each other regularly. She is the same as ever. She said she spoke to you.”
“Yes, it was a rather serious conversation, but I could see that she was still completely irrepressible.”
“Oh, indeed. Do you know what she did with the money she fleeced out of you when we were courting?”
“No, what?”
“First she invested it in an interest-bearing account. Then, when she decided that she ought to be getting a better rate of return on her money, she studied the financial papers of the Times and began investing in stocks.”
Robert laughed out loud as he put some oysters on a plate for Victoria. “Your sister never ceases to amaze me. I thought women weren't usually allowed to trade on the 'change.”
Victoria shrugged. “She tells her man of business that she is acting on my father's behalf. I believe she said that Papa is something of a recluse and won't leave the house.”
Robert was laughing so hard he had to set down the oyster he was about to eat. “Your father would have her head if he knew she was spreading such tales.”
“No one is better at keeping a secret than Ellie.”
A nostalgic smile crossed Robert's face. “I know. I should probably consult her on some financial matters.”
Victoria looked up sharply. “You would do that?”
“Do what?”
“Ask her advice.”
“Why not? I have never met anyone with a better knack for handling money than your sister. If she were a man she'd probably be running the Bank of England.” Robert picked up the oyster he'd set down. “After we're married— No, no, no, don't even bother to remind me that you haven't accepted my suit, because I am well aware of it. I was merely going to say that you should invite her to stay with us.”
“You would let me do that?”
“I am not an ogre, Victoria. I don't know why you seem to think that I will rule you with an iron fist once we are married. Believe me, I am more than happy to share with you some of the responsibilities of an earldom. It can be quite a chore.”
Victoria regarded him thoughtfully. She had never realized that Robert's privilege could also be a burden. Although his title would be only an honorary one until his father died, he still had many responsibilities to his land and his tenants.
Robert motioned to her plate. “Do you not enjoy oysters?” He smiled wickedly. “Or perhaps you fear that my scientific experiment might prove successful?”
Victoria blinked herself out of her reverie. “I've never before tried an oyster. I haven't the faintest idea how to eat one.”
“I had no idea you had such a gap in your culinary education. Here, let me prepare one for you.” Robert picked up an oyster from the center platter, added a squirt of lemon juice and a dab of horseradish, and handed it to her.
Victoria eyed the mollusk dubiously. “Now what do I do?”
“You lift it to your lips and drink it down.”
“Drink it? Without chewing?”
He smiled. “No, you chew a bit, too. But first we must make an oyster toast.”
Victoria looked around. “I don't think they brought us any toast.”
“No, no, a toast. Cheers. To happiness. That sort of toast.”
“With an oyster?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I am certain that this cannot be a custom.”
“Then we'll make it our custom.” Robert lifted his oyster in the air. “You, too.”
Victoria held her oyster up. “I feel very foolish.”
“Don't. We all deserve a bit of fun every now and then.”
She smiled wryly. Fun. What a novel concept. “Very well. To what shall we toast?”
“Us, of course.”
“Robert…”
“Such a spoilsport. Very well, to happiness!”
Victoria clinked her oyster shell against his. “To happiness.” She watched as Robert ate his oyster, and then, after muttering “One only lives once, I suppose,” she followed suit and sucked it down.
Robert watched her with an amused expression. “How did you enjoy it?”
Victoria came up spluttering. “My goodness, but that was the oddest culinary experience I have ever encountered.”
“I'm finding it difficult to discern whether that is a positive or negative statement,” Robert said.
“I'm finding it difficult as well,” she replied, looking a touch startled. “I cannot decide if that was the best food I have ever tasted or the absolute worst.”
He laughed out loud. “Perhaps you should try another?”
“I don't suppose they serve beef stew?”
Robert shook his head.
“Well, then, I suppose I'll need another oyster if I do not want to perish of starvation later in the day.”
He prepared another for her. “Your wish is my command.”
She shot him a disbelieving glance. “I'm going to pay you a small kindness and not make a suitable retort to that comment.”
“I believe you just did.”
Victoria ate another oyster, dabbed her lips with her napkin, and smiled archly. “Yes, I did, didn't I?”
Robert was silent for a moment, then he said, “I think it's working.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The oysters. I think you like me better already.”
“I do not,” she said, trying very hard not to smile.
He clutched at his chest. “I am heartbroken. Utterly bereaved.”
“Stop being so silly.”
“Or perhaps…” He scratched his head in an attempt to look serious and thoughtful. “Perhaps the reason you don't like me any better is because you liked me quite well to begin with.”
“Robert!”
“I know, I know. I am having fun at your expense. But you are having fun, too.”
She didn't say anything.
“Are you still angry we detoured to Whitsable?”
There was a long silence, and then Victoria shook her head.
Robert didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until it came out in a long whoosh. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “It can always be like this,” he whispered. “You can always be this happy.”
She opened her mouth, but he didn't let her speak. “I saw it in your eyes,” he said. “You enjoyed yourself more this afternoon than you have in the last seven years.”
Victoria's head forced her reluctant heart to pull her hand away. “You weren't with me during the last seven years. You can't know what I did or did not feel.”
“I know.” He paused. “And it breaks my heart.”
They didn't speak for the rest of the meal.
The ride to Ramsgate took just over three hours. Robert was surprised that Victoria fell asleep in the carriage. He'd thought her much too tense to drift into slumber, but then again maybe she was simply exhausted. He didn't much mind her inattention; he liked to watch her while she slept.
It also gave him the opportunity to carry her into the cottage when they arrived. She was warm and soft and everything he could ever want. He gently set her down on the bed in the cottage's second bedroom and pulled a quilt up over her. She might be uncomfortable sleeping in her clothing, but he rather thought she'd prefer that to being undressed by him.
He, of course, would have preferred…He shuddered and shook his head. Never mind what he would have preferred. He was getting hot just thinking about it, and his cravat suddenly felt uncommonly tight.
Robert left the room with a g
roan, firmly resolving to take a swim in the icy ocean as soon as possible.
Chapter 17
Victoria woke up to the smell of salt air. She yawned and blinked, momentarily confused by her surroundings. This must be Robert's cottage, she realized. She wondered when he had purchased it. He hadn't owned it when they had courted so many years before.
She sat up in bed and took stock of the room. It was quite lovely, actually, done in shades of blue and peach. It wasn't a particularly feminine room, but it wasn't masculine either, and she had no doubt that it was not Robert's chamber. She let out a sigh of relief. She hadn't really thought that he would be so bold as to put her in his bedroom, but it had been a niggling fear.
Victoria rose to her feet and decided to explore the cottage. The house was quiet—Robert was either asleep or out. Either way it afforded her a perfect opportunity to snoop. She padded out into the hall, not bothering to put on her shoes. It was a sturdy little house, with thick stone walls and a timbered roof. Its snug second floor housed only two rooms, but each had a fire-place. Victoria peeked into the other room and ascertained that it was Robert's. The four-poster bed was solid and masculine and faced a large window, open to a glorious view of the Strait of Dover. A telescope stood by the window. Robert had always loved to look at the stars.
She walked back into the hall and made her way downstairs. The house was nothing if not cozy. There was no formal dining room, and the sitting room looked comfortable and well loved. Victoria was making her way back through the dining area, intending to inspect the kitchen, when she spied a note on the table. She picked it up and instantly recognized Robert's handwriting.
V—
Have gone for a swim.
—R
A swim? Was the man batty? Granted, it was summer, but it was not a particularly sunny day, and the water had to be freezing. Victoria went to a window to see if she could see Robert in the surf, but the water was too far below her to make anything out.
She ran upstairs and put on her shoes. Because she didn't have a shawl—indeed, she didn't even have a change of clothing save the seductively cut blue silk nightgown that he had picked out for her—she took a thin blanket to wrap around her shoulders. The wind appeared to be picking up, and the sky was growing darker. She doubted her dress would be warm enough to brave the elements.