Everything and the Moon (16 page)

It was dark blue—a shade hovering somewhere between royal and midnight. Victoria didn't think it was an accident that the silk was the exact color of her eyes.

She sat down on the bed with a sigh. Her mind held a picture of Robert, examining a hundred nightgowns until he found one he deemed perfect. He did everything with such care and precision.

She wondered if he made love with the same quiet intensity.

“Stop!” she said aloud, as if that would rein in her wayward thoughts. She rose to her feet and crossed the room to the window. The moon was high, and the stars were twinkling in a manner that could only be called friendly. Suddenly, more than anything, Victoria wanted another woman to talk to. She wanted her friends at the dress shop, she wanted her sister, she even wanted Robert's aunt Brightbill and cousin Harriet.

Most of all, she wanted her mother, who had died so many years earlier. She stared up into the heavens and whispered, “Mama, are you listening?” then scolded herself for foolishly hoping that a star would shoot through the night. Still, there was something soothing about talking to the darkened sky.

“What should I do?” she said aloud. “I think I might love him. I think I might have always loved him. But I hate him, too.”

A star glinted sympathetically.

“Sometimes I think it would be so lovely to have someone to take care of me. To feel protected and loved. I went for so long without feeling that way. Without even a friend. But I also want to be able to make my own decisions, and Robert is taking that away from me. I don't think he means to. He just can't help it. And then I feel so weak and powerless. All the time I was a governess I was at the mercy of others. God, how I hated that.”

She paused to brush a tear from her cheek. “And then I wonder—do all these questions mean anything, or am I just afraid? Maybe I am nothing but a coward, too scared to take a chance.”

The wind whispered across her face, and Victoria took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air. “If I let him love me, will he break my heart again?”

The night sky made no response.

“If I let myself love him, can I still be my own person?”

This time a star twinkled, but Victoria wasn't sure how to interpret that gesture. She stood at the window for several minutes more, content to let the breeze caress her skin. Finally exhaustion claimed her and, fully clothed, she climbed into bed, not even realizing that she was still clutching the blue nightgown Robert had given her.

 

Ten feet away Robert stood at his own window, silently contemplating what he had overheard. The wind had carried Victoria's words to him, and, much as it went against his scientific nature, he couldn't help but believe that some benevolent spirit had pushed that wind along.

His mother. Or maybe Victoria's. Or perhaps both, working together from the heavens to give their children another chance at happiness.

He had been so close to giving up hope, but then he'd been given a gift more precious than gold—a brief glimpse into Victoria's heart.

Robert raised his eyes to the sky and thanked the moon.

T
he next morning was almost surreal.

Victoria didn't wake up feeling particularly refreshed. She still felt drained, both emotionally and physically, and she was just as confused as ever about her feelings for Robert.

After she had washed her face and smoothed out her clothing, she knocked softly on his door. There was no answer. She decided to enter anyway, but she did so with a certain degree of apprehension. She well remembered his fit of temper the night before. Nibbling on her lower lip, she pushed open the door.

Only to be frightened out of her wits by MacDougal, who was dozing comfortably on Robert's bed.

“Good Lord!” she managed to say after she let out a shriek of surprise. “What are you doing here? And where is Lord Macclesfield?”

MacDougal smiled at her in a friendly manner as he rose to his feet. “He's seeing to the horses.”

“Isn't that your job?”

The Scotsman nodded. “His lordship is rather particular about his horseflesh.”

“I know,” Victoria said, her mind traveling back seven years to when Robert had—unsuccessfully—tried to teach her to ride.

“Sometimes he likes to inspect the animals himself. Usually when he's thinking about something.”

Probably how to most effectively flog me
, Victoria thought. There was a beat of silence, and then she said, “Is there any particular reason why you came up to his room?”

“He wanted me to escort you to breakfast.”

“Ah, yes,” she said with a slight tinge of bitterness. “Keep the prisoner guarded at all times.”

“Actually he mentioned something about your being accosted last night. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable—a woman alone and all that.”

Victoria smiled tightly, duly chastened. “Shall we be off, then? I am famished.”

“Do you have anything you would like me to take down for you, my lady?”

Victoria was of half a mind to correct him and tell him that she wasn't anybody's lady, but she just didn't have the energy. Robert had probably already told his servant that they were as good as married anyway. “No,” she replied. “His lordship didn't give me very much time to pack, if you recall.”

MacDougal nodded. “Verra well, then.”

Victoria took a couple of steps toward the door, and then she remembered the blue night-gown lying on the bed in the next room. She ought to leave it behind, she thought spitefully. She ought to have torn it into shreds the night before. But that artfully cut piece of silk gave her an odd sort of solace, and she didn't want to abandon it.

And, she rationalized, if she did, Robert would probably come up to retrieve it before they departed.

“Just one moment, MacDougal,” she said, dashing back to the adjoining room. She bundled up the nightgown and tucked it under her arm.

She and MacDougal made their way downstairs. The Scotsman steered her toward a private dining room, where he said Robert would meet her for breakfast. Victoria was surprisingly hungry, and she put her hand against her stomach in a vain attempt to stop it from grumbling. Good manners dictated that she wait for Robert, but she doubted that any etiquette book had ever addressed the particularities of her uncommon situation.

Victoria waited for a minute or so, and then, when her stomach let out its third grumble, she decided not to bother with good manners, and reached for the plate of toast.

After a few minutes, two eggs, and a tasty slice of kidney pie, she heard the door open and Robert's voice. “Enjoying your meal?”

She looked up. He looked friendly, polite, and impossibly cheerful. Victoria was instantly suspicious. Wasn't this the same man who had forcibly ejected her from his room the night before?

“I'm famished,” Robert declared. “How is the food? Is it to your liking?”

Victoria washed down a bite of toast with some tea. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I like you.”

“Last night you didn't,” she muttered.

“Last night I was, shall we say, misinformed.”

“Misinformed? I suppose you stumbled on a wealth of information in the last ten hours?”

He grinned wickedly. “I did, indeed.”

Victoria set her teacup on its saucer with slow, precise movements. “And would you care to share this with me? Your new fount of knowledge?”

He looked at her intently for a split second and then said, “Would you be so kind as to pass me a slice of that kidney pie?”

Victoria's fingers curled around the edge of the pie pan and she pulled the dish out of his reach. “Not just yet.”

He chuckled. “You play dirty, my lady.”

“I am not your lady, and I want to know why you're acting so bloody cheerful this morning. By all rights you should be frothing at the mouth.”

“By all rights? Then you think my anger last night was justified?”

“No!” The word came out a touch more forcefully than Victoria would have liked.

He shrugged. “It's no matter, as I'm no longer angry.”

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 mirth 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.”