Everything and the Moon (2 page)

Her fingers traced circles and hearts on the wooden tabletop as her mind dreamily recounted the afternoon. Robert. Robert. She mouthed his name, then wrote it on the table with her finger. Robert Phillip Arthur Kemble. She traced all his names out.

He was terribly handsome. His dark hair had been wavy and just a touch too long for fashion. And his eyes—one would have expected such a dark-haired man to have dark eyes, but his had been clear and blue. Pale blue, they should have looked icy, but his personality had kept them warm.

“What are you doing, Victoria?”

Victoria looked up to see her sister in the doorway. “Oh, hello, Ellie.”

Eleanor, younger than Victoria by exactly three years, crossed the room and picked Victoria's hand up off the table. “You're going to give yourself splinters.” She dropped Victoria's hand and sat down across from her.

Victoria looked at her sister's face but saw only Robert. Finely molded lips, always ready with a smile, the vague hint of whiskers on his chin. She wondered if he had to be shaved twice a day.

“Victoria!”

Victoria looked up blankly. “Did you say something?”

“I was asking you—for the second time—if you wanted to come with me tomorrow to bring food to Mrs. Gordon. Papa is sharing our tithe with her family while she is ill.”

Victoria nodded. As vicar, her father received a tithe of one-tenth of the area's farm produce. Much of this was sold to care for the village church, but there was always more than enough food for the Lyndon family. “Yes, yes,” she said absently. “Of course I'll go.”

Robert. She sighed. He had such a lovely laugh.

“…more in?”

Victoria looked up. “I'm sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

“I was saying,” Ellie said with a decided lack of patience, “that I tasted the stew earlier today. It needs salt. Would you like me to put more in?”

“No, no. I added a bit a few minutes ago.”

“Whatever is wrong with you, Victoria?”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie exhaled in an exasperated gesture. “You haven't heard two words of what I've said. I keep trying to talk to you, and all you do is gaze out the window and sigh.”

Victoria leaned forward. “Can you keep a secret?”

Ellie leaned forward. “You know I can.”

“I think I'm in love.”

“I don't believe that for one second.”

Victoria's mouth fell open in consternation. “I just told you that I have undergone the most life altering transformation in a woman's life, and you don't believe me?”

Ellie scoffed. “
Who
in Bellfield could you possibly fall in love with?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“I already said I could.”

“Lord Macclesfield.”

“The marquess's son?” Ellie fairly yelled. “Victoria, he's an earl.”

“Keep your voice down!” Victoria looked over her shoulder to see if they had caught their father's attention. “And I am well aware that he is an earl.”

“You don't even know him. He was in London when the marquess had us up to Castleford.”

“I met him today.”

“And you think you're in love? Victoria, only fools and poets fall in love at first sight.”

“Then I suppose I'm a fool,” Victoria said loftily, “because Lord knows I am no poet.”

“You are mad, sister. Utterly mad.”

Victoria lifted her chin and looked down her nose at her sister. “Actually, Eleanor, I don't think I've ever been saner than I am at this very moment.”

 

It took Victoria hours to fall asleep that night, and when she did she dreamed of Robert.

He was kissing her. Gently on the lips and then traveling along the planes of her cheek. He was whispering her name.

“Victoria…”

“Victoria…”

She came suddenly awake.

“Victoria…”

Was she still dreaming?

“Victoria…”

She scrambled out from under her covers and peered out the window that hung over her bed.
He
was there.

“Robert?”

He grinned and kissed her nose. “The very one. I cannot tell you how glad I am that your cottage is only one story tall.”

“Robert, what are you doing here?”

“Falling madly in love?”

“Robert!” She tried to keep herself from laughing, but his good spirits were infectious. “Really, my lord. What are you doing here?”

He swept his body into a gallant bow. “I've come to court you, Miss Lyndon.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I cannot think of a better time.”

“Robert, what if you had gone to the wrong room? My reputation would be in tatters.”

He leaned against the windowsill. “You mentioned honeysuckle. I sniffed about until I found your room.” He sniffed in demonstration. “My olfactory senses are quite refined.”

“You're incorrigible.”

He nodded. “That, or perhaps merely in love.”

“Robert, you cannot love me.” But even as she said the words, Victoria heard her heart begging him to contradict her.

“Can't I?” He reached through the window and took her hand. “Come with me, Torie.”

“N-no one calls me Torie,” she said, trying to change the subject.

“I'd like to,” he whispered. He moved his hand to her chin and drew her toward him. “I'm going to kiss you now.”

Victoria nodded tremulously, unable to deny herself the pleasure she'd been dreaming about all evening.

His lips brushed hers in a feather-light caress. Victoria shivered against the tingles that shot down her spine.

“Are you cold?” he whispered, his words a kiss against her lips.

Silently, she shook her head.

He drew back and cradled her face in his hands. “You're so beautiful.” He pinched a lock of her hair between his fingers and examined its silkiness. Then he moved his lips back to hers, brushing against them back and forth, allowing her to accustom herself to his nearness before he moved in closer. He could feel her trembling, but she made no move to pull away, and he knew that she was as excited by the encounter as he was.

Robert moved his hand to the back of her head, sinking his fingers into her thick hair as he darted out his tongue to trace the outline of her lips. She tasted like mint and lemons, and it was all he could do not to pull her through the window and make love to her right there on the soft grass. Never in his twenty-four years had he felt this particular brand of need. It was desire, yes, but with a stunningly powerful rush of tenderness.

Reluctantly he drew away, aware that he wanted far more than he could ask her for that evening. “Come with me,” he whispered.

Her hand flew to her lips.

He took her hand again and pulled her toward the open window.

“Robert, it's the middle of the night.”

“The best time to be alone.”

“But I'm—I'm in my nightdress!” She looked down at herself as if only then realizing how indecently attired she was. She grabbed her blankets and tried to wrap them around her body.

Robert did his best not to laugh. “Put on your cloak,” he gently ordered. “And hurry. We've much to see this evening.”

Victoria wavered for but a second. Going with him was the height of nonsense, but she knew that if she closed her window now she would wonder for the rest of her life what might have happened this full-mooned night.

She rushed off her bed and pulled a long dark cloak from her closet. It was far too heavy for the warm weather, but she couldn't very well traipse around the countryside in her nightdress. She buttoned the cloak, climbed back onto her bed, and with Robert's help crawled through the window.

The night air was crisp and laden with the scent of honeysuckle, but Victoria only had time to take in one deep breath before Robert yanked on her hand and took off at a run. Victoria laughed silently as they raced across the lawn and into the forest. Never had she felt so alive and free. She wanted to shout her glee to the treetops, but was mindful of her father's open bedroom window.

In a few minutes they emerged into a small clearing. Robert stopped short, causing Victoria to stumble into him. He held her firmly, the length of his body indecently pressed against hers.

“Torie,” he murmured. “Oh, Torie.”

And he kissed her again, kissed her as if she were the last woman left on the earth, the only woman ever born.

Eventually she pulled away, her dark blue eyes flustered. “This is all so very fast. I'm not sure I understand it.”

“I don't understand it, either,” Robert said with a happy sigh. “But I don't want to question it.” He sat down on the ground, pulling her along with him. Then he lay down on his back.

Victoria was still crouching, looking at him with a trace of hesitancy.

He patted the ground next to him. “Lie down and look at the sky. It's spectacular.”

Victoria looked at his face, alight with happiness, and lowered herself onto the ground. The sky seemed enormous from her vantage point.

“Are the stars not the most amazing thing you've ever seen?” Robert asked.

Victoria nodded and moved closer to him, finding the heat of his body oddly compelling.

“They're there for you, you know. I'm convinced that God put them in the sky just so you could watch them this very evening.”

“Robert, you're so fanciful.”

He rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, using his free hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. “I was never fanciful before this day,” he said, his voice serious. “I never wanted to be. But now…” He paused, as if searching for that impossible mix of words that would precisely convey what was in his heart. “I can't explain it. It's as if I can tell you anything.”

She smiled. “Of course you can.”

“No, it's more than that. Nothing I say sounds odd. Even with my closest friends I cannot be completely forthcoming. For example—” He suddenly jumped to his feet. “Don't you find it astounding that humans can balance on their feet?”

Victoria tried to sit up, but her laughter forced her back down.

“Think about it,” he said, rocking from heel to toe. “Look at your feet. They're very small compared with the rest of you. One would think we would topple over every time we tried to stand.”

This time she was able to sit up, and she looked down at her feet. “I suppose you're right. It is rather amazing.”

“I've never said that to anyone else,” he said. “I've thought it all my life, but I never told anyone until now. I suppose I worried people would think it was stupid.”

“I don't think it's stupid.”

“No.” He crouched next to her and touched her cheek. “No, I knew you wouldn't.”

“I think you're brilliant for having even considered the idea,” she said loyally.

“Torie. Torie. I don't know how to say this, and I certainly don't understand it, but I think I love you.”

Her head whipped around to face him.

“I
know
I love you,” he said with greater force. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me, and I'll be damned if I let myself be ruled by caution.”

“Robert,” she whispered. “I think I love you, too.”

He felt the breath leave his body, felt himself overtaken by such powerful happiness that he couldn't keep still. He pulled her to her feet. “Tell me again,” he said.

“I love you.” She was grinning now, caught up in the magic of the moment.

“Again.”

“I love you!” The words were mixed with laughter.

“Oh, Torie, Torie. I'll make you so happy. I promise. I want to give you everything.”

“I want the moon!” she shouted, suddenly believing that such fancies were actually possible.

“I'll give you everything
and
the moon,” he said fiercely.

And then he kissed her.

T
wo months passed. Robert and Victoria met on every occasion, exploring the countryside, and whenever possible, exploring each other.

Robert told her of his fascination with science, his passion for racehorses, and his fears that he would never be the man his father wanted him to be.

Victoria told him of her weakness for romantic novels, her ability to stitch a seam straighter than a yardstick, and her fears that she would never live up to her father's strict moral standards.

She loved pastries.

He hated peas.

He had the appalling habit of putting his feet up when he sat down—on a table, a bed, whatever.

She always planted her hands on her hips when she was flustered, and never quite managed to look as stern as she hoped.

He loved the way her lips pursed when she was annoyed, the way she always considered the needs of others, and the mischievous way she teased him when he acted too self-important.

She loved the way he ran his hand through his hair when he was exasperated, the way he liked to stop and examine the shape of a wildflower, and the way he sometimes acted domineering just to see if he could rile her.

They had everything—and absolutely nothing—in common.

In each other they found their own souls, and they shared secrets and thoughts that had heretofore been impossible to express.

“I still look for my mother,” Victoria once said.

Robert looked at her oddly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was fourteen when she died. How old were you?”

“I was seven. My mother died in childbirth.” Victoria's already gentle face softened even more. “I'm so sorry. You barely had a chance to know her, and you lost a sibling as well. Was the baby a brother or a sister?”

“A sister. My mother lived just long enough to name her Anne.”

“I'm sorry.”

He smiled wistfully. “I remember what it felt like to be held by her. My father used to tell her that she was coddling me, but she didn't listen.”

“The doctor said my mother had a cancer.” Victoria swallowed painfully. “Her death wasn't peaceful. I like to think that she's somewhere up there”—she waved her head toward the sky—“where she isn't in any pain.”

Robert touched her hand, deeply moved.

“But sometimes I still need her. I wonder if we ever stop needing our parents. And I talk to her. And I look for her.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You'll think I'm silly.”

“You know I would never think that.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Victoria said, “Oh, I say things like, ‘If my mother is listening, then let the wind rustle the leaves of that branch.' Or, ‘Mama, if you're watching, make the sun go behind that cloud. Just so I know you're with me.'”

“She's with you,” Robert whispered. “I can feel it.”

Victoria settled into the cradle of his arms. “I've never told anyone about that. Not even Ellie, and I know she misses Mama just as much as I do.”

“You'll always be able to tell me everything.”

“Yes,” she said happily, “I know.”

 

It was impossible to keep their courtship a secret from Victoria's father. Robert called at the vicar's cottage nearly every day. He told the vicar that he was teaching Victoria to ride, which was technically the truth, as anyone who watched her limp about the house after a lesson could attest.

Still, it was obvious that the young couple shared deeper feelings. The Reverend Mr. Lyndon vehemently disapproved of the match, and told Victoria as much on every possible occasion.

“He will never marry you!” the vicar boomed, using his best sermon voice. Such a tone never failed to intimidate his daughters.

“Papa, he loves me,” Victoria protested.

“It doesn't matter if he does or doesn't. He won't marry you. He's an earl and will someday be a marquess. He won't marry a vicar's daughter.”

Victoria took a deep breath, trying not to lose her temper. “He is not like that, Father.”

“He is like any man. He will use you and discard you.”

Victoria blushed at her father's frank language. “Papa, I—”

The vicar jumped on top of her words, saying, “You are not living in one of your silly novels. Open your eyes, girl.”

“I am not as naive as you think.”

“You are seventeen years old!” he yelled. “You couldn't be anything
but
naive.”

Victoria snorted and rolled her eyes, aware that her father hated such unladylike mannerisms. “I don't know why I bother to discuss this with you.”

“It is because I am your father! And by God, you will obey me.” The vicar leaned forward. “I have seen the world, Victoria. I know what's what. The earl's intentions cannot be honorable, and if you allow him to court you further, you will find yourself a fallen woman. Do you understand me?”

“Mama would have understood,” Victoria muttered.

Her father's face turned red. “What did you say?”

Victoria swallowed before repeating her words. “I said that Mama would have understood.”

“Your mother was a God-fearing woman who knew her place. She would not have crossed me on this measure.”

Victoria thought about how her mother used to tell silly jokes to her and Ellie when the vicar wasn't paying attention. Mrs. Lyndon hadn't been as serious and grave as her husband had thought. No, Victoria decided, her mother would have understood.

She stared at her father's chin for a long moment before finally lifting her eyes to his and asking, “Are you forbidding me to see him?”

Victoria thought her father's jaw might snap in two, so tense was his facial expression. “You know I cannot forbid it,” he replied. “One word of displeasure to his father, and I will be tossed out without a reference.
You
must break it off.”

“I won't,” Victoria said defiantly.

“You must break it off.” The vicar showed no sign of having heard. her. “And you must do it with supreme tact and grace.”

Victoria glared at him mutinously. “Robert is calling on me in two hours. I shall go walking with him.”

“Tell him you cannot see him again. Do it this afternoon, or by God I'll make you sorry.”

Victoria felt herself grow weak. Her father had not struck her for years—not since she was a child—but he looked furious enough to lose his temper completely. She said nothing.

“Good,” her father said in a satisfied manner, mistaking her silence for acquiescence. “And be sure to take Eleanor with you. You are not to leave this house in his company without the accompaniment of your sister.”

“Yes, Papa.” On that measure, at least, Victoria would obey. But only that.

 

Two hours later Robert arrived at the cottage. Ellie swung open the door so quickly he didn't even manage to bring the knocker down for a second rap.

“Hello, my lord,” she said, her grin just a bit cheeky. And no wonder—Robert had been paying her a full pound for every outing on which she managed to make herself disappear. Ellie had always believed wholeheartedly in bribery, a fact for which Robert was undyingly grateful.

“Good afternoon, Ellie,” he replied. “I trust your day has been pleasant.”

“Oh, very much, my lord. I expect it to grow even more pleasant very shortly.”

“Impertinent baggage,” Robert muttered. But he didn't really mean it. He rather liked Victoria's younger sister. They shared a certain pragmatism and a penchant for planning for the future. If he'd been in her position, he'd have been demanding
two
pounds per outing.

“Oh, you're here, Robert.” Victoria came bustling into the hall. “I didn't realize you had arrived.”

He smiled. “Eleanor opened the door with remarkable alacrity.”

“Yes, I suppose she did.” Victoria shot her sister a slightly waspish look. “She is always very prompt when you are calling.”

Ellie lifted her chin and allowed herself a half smile. “I like to look after my investments.”

Robert burst out laughing. He extended his arm to Victoria. “Shall we be off?”

“I just need to get a book,” Ellie said. “I have a feeling that I will have a great deal of time to read this afternoon.” She darted down the hallway and disappeared into her chamber.

Robert gazed at Victoria as she fastened her bonnet. “I love you,” he mouthed.

Her fingers fumbled over the bonnet's strings.

“Should I say it louder?” he whispered, a wicked grin crossing his face.

Victoria shook her head vehemently, her eyes darting over to the closed door of her father's study. He had said that Robert didn't love her, said that he
couldn't
love her. But her father was wrong. Of that Victoria was certain. One had only to look at Robert's twinkling blue eyes to know the truth.

“Romeo and Juliet!”

Victoria blinked and looked up at the sound of her sister's voice, thinking for a moment that Ellie had been referring to her and Robert as those ill-fated lovers. Then she saw the slim volume of Shakespeare in her sister's hand. “Rather depressing reading for such a sunny afternoon,” Victoria said.

“Oh, I disagree,” Ellie replied. “I find it most romantic. Except for the bit about everyone dying at the end, of course.”

“Yes,” Robert murmured. “I can see where one wouldn't find that bit romantic.”

Victoria grinned and nudged him in the side.

The threesome made their way outside, crossing the open field and heading into the forest. After about ten minutes Ellie sighed and said, “I suppose this is where I leave off.” She spread a blanket on the ground and looked up at Robert with a knowing smile.

He tossed her a coin and said, “Eleanor, you have the soul of a banker.”

“Yes, I do, don't I?” she murmured. Then she sat down and pretended not to notice when Robert grabbed Victoria's hand and dashed out of sight.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the grassy shore of the pond where they'd first met. Victoria barely had time to spread out a blanket before Robert had pulled her down to the ground.

“I love you,” he said, kissing the corner of her lips.

“I love you,” he said, kissing the other corner.

“I love you,” he said, yanking off her bonnet.

“I love—”

“I know, I know!” Victoria finally laughed, trying to stop him from pulling out all of her hairpins.

He shrugged. “Well, I do.”

But her father's words still echoed in her head. He
will use you
. “Do you truly?” she asked, staring intently into his eyes. “Do you truly love me?”

He grasped her chin with uncharacteristic force. “How can you even ask that?”

“I don't know,” Victoria whispered, reaching up to touch his hand, which immediately gentled its hold. “I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I know you love me. And I love you.”

“Show me,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Victoria licked her lips nervously, then moved her face across the inch that separated them.

The moment her lips touched his, Robert was on fire. He sank his hands in her hair, locking her against him. “God, Torie,” he rasped. “I love the feel of you, the smell of you…”

She responded by kissing him with renewed fervor, tracing his full lips with her tongue as he had taught her to do.

Robert shuddered, feeling white-hot need rock through him. He wanted to sink himself into her, wrap her legs around his waist, and never let go. His fingers found the buttons on her dress, and he began to undo them.

“Robert?” Victoria pulled away, startled by this new intimacy.

“Shhh, darling,” he said, passion making his voice rough. “I just want to touch you. I have been dreaming of nothing else for weeks.” He cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her summer dress and squeezed.

Victoria moaned with pleasure and relaxed, allowing him to complete his task.

Robert's fingers were shaking with anticipation, but somehow he managed to open enough buttons to let her bodice fall open. Victoria's hands immediately flew up to cover her nakedness, but he gently pushed them away. “No,” he whispered. “They're perfect.
You're
perfect.”

And then, as if to illustrate his point, he brought his hand forward and grazed the tip of her breast with his palm. Round and round he went, moving his hand in tiny circles, sucking in his breath as her nipple tightened into a hard bud. “Are you cold?” he whispered.

She nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again, saying, “I don't know.”

“I'll warm you.” He cupped his hand and wrapped it around her breast, branding her with the heat of his skin. “I want to kiss you,” he said hoarsely. “Will you let me kiss you?”

Victoria tried to moisten her throat, which had gone quite dry. He had kissed her a hundred times before. A thousand, possibly. Why was he suddenly asking her permission?

When his tongue drew a lazy circle around her nipple, she found out. “Oh, my God!” she burst out, barely able to believe what he was doing. “Oh, Robert!”

“I need you, Torie.” He buried his face between her breasts. “You don't understand how I need you.”

“I-I think we must stop,” she said. “I can't do this…My reputation…” She had no idea how to put her thoughts into words. Her father's warning rang ceaselessly in her ears.
He will use you and discard you
.

She saw Robert's head at her breast. “Robert, no!”

Robert inhaled raggedly and pulled her gaping bodice together. He tried to redo the buttons, but his hands were trembling.

“I'll do it,” Victoria said quickly, turning so that he would not see the red shame on her face. Her fingers were shaking, too, but they proved more nimble than his, and eventually she managed to right her appearance.

But he saw her pink cheeks, and it nearly killed him to think that she was ashamed of her behavior. “Torie,” he said softly. When she didn't turn around he used two fingers to gently prod her chin until she faced him.