Everything and the Moon

by Julia Quinn

  “Are you mad?” she screeched. She looked wildly about her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was.

  “Do try to calm down,” he said, standing in front of the door, looking very much like an implacable god. “This is my room. No one will walk in on us.”

  Victoria snorted. “This isn't the guest wing.”

  “Lady H. ran out of room,” he said with a shrug. “She put me near the family quarters. Because I'm an earl, she said.”

  “I am well aware of your rank and all it entails,” she said, her voice pure ice.

  Robert let that barb pass. “As I said, we are now alone, and we can finish this conversation without your incessant worrying that we will be discovered.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I just don't like you? That perhaps you are the reason I do not want to be alone with you?”

  “No.”

  “Robert, I have chores I must attend to. I can't be here.”

  “I don't see how you're going to leave,” he said, leaning against the door.

  “Stop jeopardizing my position. You may be able to return to your privileged life in London,” she said in a furious, low voice, “but I do not have that option.”

  He stroked her cheek insolently. “It could be an option, if you should so choose.”

  “Don't!” She wrenched away from him, hating herself for loving his touch, hating him for touching her. She turned her back on him. “You insult me.”

  His hands came down lightly on her shoulders. “It was meant as the highest of compliments.”

  “A compliment!” she burst out, pulling away from him yet again. “You have a warped set of morals.”

  “That is certainly a bizarre statement, coming from you.”

  “I am not the one who spends all of my free time seducing innocents.”

  He countered with, “I am not the one who tried to sell my life and body for a fortune and a title.”

  “You're a fine one to talk. You, who have already sold your soul.”

  “Explain yourself,” he bit out.

  And then, just because his tone annoyed her so much, she said, “No.”

  “Do not defy me, Victoria.”

  “‘Do not defy me,’” she mocked. “You are not in any position to give me orders. You might have been—” Her voice broke, and it took her a moment to regain her composure. “You might have been, but you gave up that right.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “It's no use talking with you. I don't know why I even try.”

  “Don't you?”

  “Don't touch me,” Victoria bit out. She could feel him drawing near. He radiated heat and a certain maleness that was his alone. Her skin began to tingle.

  “You keep trying,” he said softly, “because you know that matters between us have never been resolved.”

  Victoria knew it was true. Their relationship ended so abruptly. This was probably why seeing him after all these years was so difficult. But she didn't want to face him now. She wanted to sweep him under the rug and forget about him.

  Most of all, she didn't want her heart broken anew, which she was fairly certain would happen if she let herself spend any time with him.

  “Deny it,” he whispered. “I dare you to.” She said nothing.

  “You can't, can you?” He crossed the room and put his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. It was an embrace they'd shared a hundred times before, but never had it felt so bittersweet. Robert had no idea why he was holding her. He only knew that he couldn't not do it.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Why?”

  “I don't know.” And God help him, it was the truth. He'd told himself he wanted to ruin her. Part of him still wanted revenge. She'd cut his heart to ribbons. He'd hated her for years for that.

  But holding her felt so right. There really wasn't another word for it. No other woman had ever fit quite so perfectly in his arms, and he'd spent the past seven years filling them with other women, trying desperately to blot this one from his memory.

  Was it truly possible to love and hate at the same time? Robert had always scoffed at the notion, but he was no longer so certain. He let his lips trail along the warm skin of her temple. “Have you let other men hold you this way?” he whispered, dreading the answer. She had wanted only his fortune, but his heart still raced with jealousy at the thought of her with another man.

  She made no reply for a moment, and Robert's entire body tensed. Then she shook her head.

  “Why?” he asked, with just a touch of desperation. “Why?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Was it the money?”

  She stiffened. “What?”

  He moved his lips to her neck, kissing her with a feral grace. “No one rich enough to keep you satisfied?”

  “No!” she burst out. “I'm not like that. You know I'm not like that.”

  His only reply was a chuckle, and Victoria felt his laugh directly on her skin.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed, wrenching herself out of his grasp. “You thought…You thought…”

  He crossed his arms and looked down at her, the very picture of urbane elegance. “What did I think, Victoria? You tell me.”

  “You thought I wanted your money. That I was an adventuress.”

  He made no movement except for an arching of his right brow.

  “You…You…” Seven years of anger exploded within Victoria, and she launched herself at him, pummeling his chest with her fists. “How dare you think that? You monster! I hate you. I hate you.”

  Robert raised his arms to fend off her unexpected attack, then neatly caught both her wrists in one hand. “It's a bit late to feign outrage, don't you think?”

  “I never wanted your money,” she said hotly. “It never mattered to me.”

  “Oh, come now, Victoria. Do you think I don't remember how you begged me to settle my differences with my father? You even said you wouldn't marry me unless I tried to mend the rift.”

  “That was because—Oh, why am I even trying to explain myself to you?”

  He moved his face very close to hers. “You are trying to explain yourself because you want to snare what you missed seven years ago. Me.”

  “I am beginning to realize that you were never such a spectacular catch to begin with,” she ground out.

  He laughed harshly. “Perhaps not. Which would explain your failure to show up for our elopement. But my money and title never lacked appeal.”

  Victoria yanked her wrists from his grasp, surprised when he yielded so easily. She sat down on the bed, burying her face in her hands. The fragments of her life were beginning to fall into place. When she hadn't kept their assignation, he had assumed she had backed out of the marriage because his father had disinherited him. He had thought—Oh, God, how could he have thought that of her?

  “You never knew me,” she whispered, as if only just realizing it. “You never really knew me.”

  “I wanted to,” he said harshly. “Lord, how I wanted to. And God help me, I still do.”

  There was no point in trying to explain the truth to him, she realized. The truth no longer mattered. He hadn't had any faith in her, and nothing could mend that breach. She wondered if he had ever trusted any woman.

  “Contemplating your sins?” he drawled from across the room.

  She lifted her head to face him, her eyes glinting oddly. “You're a cold man, Robert. And a lonely one, too, I'd wager.”

  He stiffened. Her words cut to the quick, and they were startling in their accuracy. With blinding speed he moved to her side, his hands grasping at her shoulders. “I am what I am because of you.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “You did this to yourself. If you had trusted me—”

  “You never gave me a damn reason to,” he exploded.

  She was trembling. “I gave you every reason,” she replied. “You just chose to ignore them.”

  Disgusted, Robert pushed hims
elf away from her. She was comporting herself like some kind of noble victim, and he didn't have patience with such hypocrisy. Especially when every fiber of his being was screaming with desire for her.

  That was what appalled him the most. He was every bit as big a hypocrite. Wanting her so badly. Wanting Victoria, of all people, the one woman he should have had enough sense to avoid like the plague.

  But he was learning that this need was something he just couldn't control. And hell, why should he have to? She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. It was right there in her eyes every time she looked at him. He said her name, his voice husky with promise and desire.

  Victoria stood up and walked to the window. She leaned her face against the glass, not trusting herself to look at him. Somehow, the knowledge that he had never trusted her hurt more than when she thought he was only out to seduce her.

  He said her name again, and this time she could tell he was very close. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck.

  He turned her around so she was facing him. His eyes burned blue flame to the very depths of her soul, and Victoria was mesmerized.

  “I'm going to kiss you now,” he said slowly, his words punctuated by ragged breathing. “I'm going to kiss you, and I'm not going to stop. Do you understand?”

  She didn't move.

  “Once my lips touch yours…”

  His words sounded vaguely like a warning, but Victoria could not make herself heed it. She felt warm—hot, really, and yet she shivered. Her thoughts were racing at lightning speed, but her mind was somehow a total blank. Everything about her was in contradiction, and that was probably why she suddenly thought that kissing him might actually not be such a terrible idea.

  A taste of yesterday—that was all she wanted. Just a taste of what might have been. What could have been. What should have been.

  She swayed forward, and that was all the invitation he needed. He crushed her to him in a stunning embrace, his lips devouring hers. She could feel his arousal pressing against her, and it was utterly thrilling. He might be a rake and a philanderer, but she couldn't believe he had ever wanted a woman the way he wanted her this very minute.

  Victoria felt like the most powerful woman on earth. It was a heady sensation, and she arched herself against him, shuddering as her breasts flattened against his chest.

  “I need more.” He moaned, his hands grasping frantically at her backside. “I need it all.”

  Victoria couldn't have said no if God himself had come down and told her to. And she had no doubt that she would have surrendered herself completely to Robert if a voice hadn't suddenly sounded in the room.

  “Excuse me.”

  Robert and Victoria flew apart, both whirling to face the door. An extremely well-dressed gentleman stood there. Victoria had never seen him before, although she had no doubt that he was a member of the house party. She looked away, utterly mortified at having been caught in such a compromising position.

  “Eversleigh,” Robert said, his voice cold.

  “I beg your pardon, Macclesfield,” the gentleman said. “But I thought this was my room.”

  Victoria's eyes flew to Robert's face. The lying bastard! He'd probably had no idea whose room they were in all along. He'd only wanted to get her alone. He hadn't given a thought to her reputation. Or the threat to her position as governess.

  Robert grabbed Victoria's hand and pulled her toward the door. “We'll be on our way, Eversleigh.”

  Victoria could tell that Robert didn't like this Lord Eversleigh, but she was too furious with him at that moment to ponder the ramifications.

  “The governess, eh?” Eversleigh said, assessing Victoria rudely. “It would be very difficult for you should the Hollingwoods learn of this little indiscretion.”

  Robert halted in his tracks and turned on Eversleigh with a thunderous expression. “If you mention this to anyone, even your damned dog, I will rip your throat out.”

  Eversleigh clucked. “You really ought to conduct your affairs in your own room.”

  Robert hauled Victoria back into the hall and slammed the door shut. She immediately wrenched her arm free and turned on him. “Your room?” she practically yelled. “Your room? You bloody liar.”

  “You were the one who was so anxious about being in the hall. And you'd do well to keep your voice down now if you truly do not wish to attract attention.”

  “Don't you dare try to lecture me.” Victoria took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking body. “I don't even know who you are anymore. You are certainly not the boy I met seven years ago. You are ruthless, and worthless, and amoral, and—”

  “I believe I understand your general idea.”

  Robert's civilized blandness only served to make her angrier. “Don't you ever approach me again,” she said in a shaking, low voice. “Ever.”

  She stalked off, wishing she had a door to slam in his face.

  Chapter 8

  Victoria had no idea how she was going to make it through that evening. Spending several hours in Robert's company was bad enough, but now she would also have to face Lord Eversleigh, who surely thought her a fallen woman.

  She briefly considered inventing a case of the putrid stomach herself. She would say that she had crossed paths with Miss Hypatia Vinton the day before; it was not impossible for her to have contracted the same affliction. Surely Lady Hollingwood would not force her to attend a dinner party while ill. But then again Lady H. was the sort to assume that Victoria had developed nausea just to spite her. It would be grounds for dismissal. With Lady Hollingwood, anything was grounds for dismissal.

  With a sigh Victoria regarded the dress laying on her bed. It wasn't quite as ugly as she'd feared, but it was too large and would hang on her body like a sack. Furthermore it was yellow, a color that had always made her look sallow. Feminine vanity aside, however, she decided not to let it upset her—she didn't want to attract attention, anyway. Victoria was more than happy to play the wallflower at this particular soiree. That such meek behavior would probably impress her employer was an added boon.

  Victoria checked the clock in her room. It was a quarter of an hour before eight—time to start getting ready if she was to arrive downstairs at twenty-five minutes past the hour. Precisely twenty-five minutes past the hour, she thought with a grimace. Not a second sooner and not a second later. Victoria didn't doubt that her job depended on it.

  She dressed her hair as best as she could. It wouldn't be as elegant as the other ladies', but she had no maid to fashion fancy ringlets or curl a fringe. A simple yet elegant chignon was the best she could do.

  A look at the clock told her that it was time to head downstairs, and so she slipped out of her room, shutting and locking the door behind her. When she arrived in the drawing room, the Hollingwoods' guests were all present, sipping their drinks and chatting amiably. Lord Eversleigh was in a corner with his back mercifully toward her as he flirted with a young blond woman. Victoria breathed a sigh of relief; she was still mortified about that afternoon's incident.

  Robert was leaning against a wall, his expression foreboding enough to scare off all but the most foolish socialites. His eyes were intent and they had been focused on the door when she entered. He had obviously been watching for her.

  Victoria looked around. No one seemed inclined to approach him. Tonight's batch of socialites must have been considerably less foolish than average.

  Robert took a step in her direction, but was cut off by Lady Hollingwood, who made her way immediately to Victoria's side. “Thank you for being prompt,” she said. “Mr. Percival Hornsby will be escorting you in to dinner. I will introduce you to him presently.”

  Victoria followed her employer, barely able to believe the woman had actually uttered the words “thank” and “you” in the same sentence. Then, just when she and Lady Hollingwood had nearly crossed the room, she heard Robert's voice.

  “Miss Lyndon? Victoria?”

  Victoria turned around, dread
filling her stomach.

  “My word, it is you!” Robert's face was a picture of incredulity as he closed the distance between them in easy strides.

  Victoria narrowed her eyes. What the devil was he up to?

  “Lord Macclesfield!” Lady Hollingwood said, just a touch breathlessly. “Do not tell me that you are acquainted with Miss Lyndon.”

  “I am well acquainted with Miss Lyndon.”

  Victoria wondered if anyone else could hear the double meaning in his voice. She itched to let her temper loose and tell him exactly what she thought of his games.

  Lady Hollingwood turned to Victoria with an accusing expression. “Miss Lyndon, you did not tell me you were acquainted with Lord Macclesfield.”

  “I did not know he was a guest, my lady.” If he could lie, confound him, so could she.

  “We grew up together,” Robert added. “In Kent.”

  Well, Victoria conceded to herself, that much was not entirely untrue. She may have moved to Kent at the age of seventeen, but she had certainly done some growing up while there. Deception and betrayal had a way of doing that to a person.

  “Is that so?” Lady Hollingwood asked, looking terribly interested and just a little bit baffled that her governess might have once moved in the same circles as an earl.

  “Yes, our families are great friends.”

  Victoria coughed so hard that she had to excuse herself to get something to drink.

  “Oh, no, allow me,” Robert said grandly. “I can think of nothing I'd rather do.”

  “I can think of many things I'd rather do,” Victoria muttered under her breath. Stomping on his foot would be nice, as would dumping a glass of wine over his head. She'd already done that once with a basin of water, and it had proved most enjoyable. Wine had the added bonus of being red.

  While Robert was off procuring Victoria a glass of lemonade, Lady Hollingwood turned on her. “You know Macclesfield?” she hissed. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I told you, I didn't know he was a guest.”

  “Whether or not he is a guest is irrelevant. He is beyond influential. When I hired you, you should have informed me you were—Oh, hello, Lord Macclesfield.”