Everything and the Moon (17 page)

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 groan, firmly resolving to take a swim in the icy ocean as soon as possible.

V
ictoria 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.

Victoria dashed back downstairs and out the front door. To her left she could see a path leading down the steep hill to the rocky beach. The path was very narrow, so she took careful steps as she began her descent, using one hand to hold the blanket around her shoulders and the other for balance. After several minutes of careful footwork, she reached the bottom and scanned the horizon for Robert.

Where was he?

She cupped her hands to her lips and bellowed his name. She heard no response save the swishing sound of the surf. She hadn't really expected him to yell back, but a wave or a motion to show that he was still alive would have been nice.

She clutched the blanket closer to her body, then arranged it so it would protect her clothing as she sat down.

The wind grew more fierce, and the salt air stung her cheeks. Her hair was beginning to grow stiff, her toes were freezing, and damn it, where was Robert? It couldn't be safe to be out swimming in this weather. She stood again, scanned the horizon, and yelled his name. Then, just when she decided that her situation could not get any worse, a sharp raindrop stabbed her cheek.

Victoria looked down, saw that her arms were shaking, and then realized that it wasn't because of the cold. She was terrified. If Robert drowned…

She couldn't even complete the thought. She was still angry with him for his high-handed behavior this past week, and she wasn't at all certain that she wanted to marry him, but the thought of him forever gone from this world was beyond comprehension.

The rain grew thicker. Victoria continued to yell Robert's name, but the wind refused to carry her words to sea. She felt helpless and impotent. There was absolutely no point in venturing into the water to save him—he was a much stronger swimmer than she was, and besides, she hadn't a clue where he was. So she just bellowed his name yet again. Not that he could hear her, but it was the only thing she could do.

And doing nothing was pure agony.

She watched as the sky darkened ominously, listened as the wind's shrieks grew more ferocious—and told herself to breathe evenly as her heart raced with panic. And then, just when she was sure she would explode with frustration, she saw a flash of pink on the horizon.

She ran to the water's edge. “Robert!” she screamed. A minute passed, and then she could finally make out that the object in the water was indeed a man.

“Oh, thank God, Robert,” she breathed, running into the calf-deep water. He was still much too far away for her to be of any use, but she couldn't stop herself from moving toward him. Besides, it seemed silly to worry about her wet ankles when the rain had already soaked through her clothing.

She waded out farther until the waves smacked her knees. The current was strong, pulling her out toward the horizon, and she shook with fear. Robert was fighting that same current. She could see him more closely now; his strokes were still strong, but they were growing uneven. He was getting tired.

She yelled his name yet again, and this time he stopped and looked up while treading water. His mouth moved, and in her heart Victoria knew that he had said her name.

He put his head back down and swam forward. It might have been Victoria's imagination, but it looked as if he was moving a little faster now. She reached her arms out and took another step forward. Only ten yards or so separated them now. “You're almost there!” she shouted. “You can do it, Robert!”

The water was at her waist and then suddenly it was over her head, a giant wave crashing above her. She tumbled into a somersault, and for a moment she had no idea which way was up. And then, miraculously, her feet touched the ground, and her face found the air. She blinked, realized that she was now facing the shore, and turned around just in time to see Robert staggering into her. His chest was bare, and his breeches were plastered to his thighs.

He practically fell against her. “My God, Victoria,” he gasped. “When I saw you go down…” Clearly unable to finish his sentence, he bent at the waist, gasping for air.

Victoria grabbed his arm and began to pull. “We've got to get to the shore,” she pleaded.

“Are you—are you all right?”

She gaped at him through the driving rain. “You're asking that of
me
? Robert, you were miles from shore! I couldn't see you. I was terrified. I—” She stopped. “Why am I discussing this now?”

They stumbled to shore. Victoria was cold and weak, but she knew that he was weaker, so she forced her legs to pull them along. He clung to her, and she could feel his legs wobbling beneath him.

“Victoria,” he gasped.

“Don't say anything.” She concentrated on the shore, and when she reached it she concentrated on the path.

He ground to a halt, though, forcing her to stop. He took her face into his hands, ignoring the rain and the wind, and looked into her eyes. “Are you all right?” he repeated.

Victoria stared at him, unable to believe that he would pause in the middle of the storm to ask her that. She covered one of his hands with her own and said, “Robert, I'm fine. I'm cold, but I'm fine. We have to get you inside.”

How they made it up the steep path, Victoria would never know. The wind and rain had loosened the earth, and more than once one of them stumbled and slipped, only to be pulled back upright by the other. Finally, her hands raw and scraped, Victoria pulled herself over the edge of the hill and landed on the green grass of the cottage's lawn. A second later Robert joined her.

The rain was torrential now, and the wind howled like a hundred furies. Together they staggered to the cottage's front door. Robert grabbed the knob and ripped the door open, shoving Victoria into the warmth of the interior. Once they were both inside, they stood stock still, momentarily paralyzed with relief.

Robert was the first to recover, and he reached out and grabbed Victoria, crushing her to him. His arms were shaking uncontrollably, but they held her firm. “I thought I'd lost you,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. “I thought I'd lost you.”

“Don't be silly, I—”

“I thought I'd lost you,” he repeated, his grip on her remaining strong. “First I thought I was going to—that I wouldn't make it back, and I didn't want to—God, I didn't want to die, not when we were so close to—” His hands moved to her face, holding her still while he memorized every feature, every freckle, and every eyelash. “Then when you went under—”

“Robert, it was only for a moment.”

“I didn't know if you could swim. You never told me if you could swim.”

“I can swim. Not as well as you, but I can—It doesn't matter. I'm fine.” She pried his hands from her face and tried to pull him toward the staircase. “We must get you into bed. You'll catch the death of you if we don't get you dry.”

“You, too,” he mumbled, letting her lead the way.

“I wasn't submerged in the Strait of Dover for God only knows how long. Once we take care of you, I promise I will change into dry garments.” She practically pushed him up the stairs. He stumbled repeatedly, never seeming to lift his leg high enough to reach the next step. Once they reached the second story, she nudged him forward.

“I assume this is your room,” she said, leading him inside.

He nodded briefly.

“Take off your clothes,” she ordered.

Robert had just enough strength to laugh. “If you knew how many times I have dreamed of you saying that…” He looked down at his hands, which were shaking violently from the cold. His fingernails were purplish blue.

“Don't be silly,” Victoria said sternly, running around the room to light the candles. It was only early evening, but the storm had taken away much of the sunlight. She turned around and saw that he hadn't made much headway on his clothing. “What is wrong with you?” she scolded. “I told you to undress.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I can't. My fingers…”

Victoria's eyes fell to his hands, which were fumbling over the fastenings to his breeches. His fingers were shaking violently, and he couldn't seem to make them close around his buttons. With brisk determination reminiscent of her not so distant days as a governess, she closed the space between them and unfastened his breeches, trying not to look when she pulled them down.

“I'm usually a bit more impressive,” Robert joked.

Victoria couldn't keep her eyes to herself after
that
comment. “Oh!” she said, startled. “That's not what I expected at all.”

“It certainly isn't what I like to see, myself,” he muttered.

She blushed and turned away. “Into the bed with you,” she said, trying for a normal voice but not quite succeeding.

He tried to explain as she herded him into the bed. “When a man gets cold, he—”

“That's quite enough, thank you. More than I need to know, I'm sure.”

He smiled, but the chattering of his teeth marred the effect. “You're embarrassed.”

“You noticed,” she said, crossing to the wardrobe. “Have you any extra blankets?”

“There is one in your room.”

“I took that down with me to the beach. I must have lost it in the water.” She shut the wardrobe door and turned around. “What are you doing?” she nearly shrieked. He was sitting up in bed, having made no attempt to pull the quilts over him. He'd crossed his arms and was clutching himself.

He just stared at her, unblinking. “I don't think I've ever been this cold.”

She yanked the covers up to his chin. “Well, you're not going to get any warmer if you don't use these blankets.”

He nodded, still shivering uncontrollably. “Your hands are freezing.”

“They're not nearly as bad as yours.”

“Go change,” he ordered.

“I want to make sure you—”

“Go.” His voice was quiet, but it did not lack authority.

She paused, and then gave a brief nod. “Don't move.”

“Wild horses couldn't—”

“I mean it!” she warned.

“Victoria,” he said, sounding infinitely weary. “I couldn't move even if I wanted to, which, incidentally, I don't.”

“Good.”

“Go!”

She threw up her arms. “I'm going, I'm going.”

Robert allowed himself to sink farther under the bed sheets once she left. Good Lord, he was cold. When he'd left for a swim, he'd never dreamed that the sky would whip up into such a ferocious storm. He clamped his teeth together, but they clattered anyway. He hated being so dependent on Victoria, especially when she had to be freezing cold herself. He'd always loved being her knight in shining armor—strong, brave, and true. Now he was wet, cold, and pathetic. And to add insult to injury, she'd finally seen him naked, and he did
not
have much to show for himself.

“Are you still under the covers?” Victoria yelled from the next room. “If you get out of bed, I'll—”

“I haven't moved!”

He heard a grunt that sounded something like “Good.” He smiled. He might not like being dependent on Victoria, but there was something to be said for being fussed over.

He pulled the covers tighter around him and rubbed his feet against the sheets in a vain attempt to warm them up. He could barely feel his hands, so he shoved them under his buttocks, but as his rear was equally cold, this didn't do much to help. He pulled the blankets up over his head and breathed heavily on his hands. This brought some momentary relief.

Footsteps pattered in the hall for a moment before he heard Victoria say, “What are you doing under there?”

He poked his head out just far enough to see her. “It's warmer under her.” Then he looked a little more closely. “
What
are you wearing?”