Everything and the Moon

by Julia Quinn

  Robert nodded as he held up two glasses. “Lady Hollingwood, I took the liberty of obtaining lemonade for both of you.”

  Lady Hollingwood simpered her thanks. Victoria said nothing, well aware that if she opened her mouth, she'd say something unfit for polite company. Just then, Lord Hollingwood came by, asking his wife if it was time to go in to dinner. “Ah, yes,” Lady Hollingwood said. “I merely need to introduce Miss Lyndon to Mr. Hornsby.”

  “Perhaps I might escort Miss Lyndon to dinner,” Robert said.

  Victoria's mouth fell open. Surely he realized what a dreadful insult that was to Lady Hollingwood. As the highest ranking gentleman in the party, it was his duty to escort the hostess.

  Victoria snapped her mouth closed just as Lady Hollingwood opened hers in consternation. “But…but…”

  Robert offered her a warm smile. “It has been so long, and I'm certain Miss Lyndon and I have much catching up to do. Why, I haven't even the slightest knowledge of how her sister fares.” He turned to Victoria with an expression that was so concerned. “And how is dear Eleanor?”

  “Ellie is fine,” Victoria ground out.

  “Is she still as impertinent as ever?”

  “Not as impertinent as you,” Victoria retorted. Then she bit her tongue.

  “Miss Lyndon!” cried Lady Hollingwood. “How dare you speak to Lord Macclesfield in such a tone. Remember your place.”

  But Robert was only chuckling. “Miss Lyndon and I have always spoken frankly to each other. It is one of the reasons we so enjoy each other's company.”

  Victoria was still kicking herself for letting him goad her into her previous retort, so she held her tongue, even though she really wanted to declare that she did not enjoy his company in the least.

  Obviously at a loss, Lady Hollingwood looked as if she didn't know how to handle this irregular situation. She certainly did not appear to be even remotely pleased at the thought of her governess claiming the highest ranking guest as her dinner partner.

  Victoria, who had quickly realized that this slight might escalate into a dismissable offense, interceded. “I am certain it is not necessary that the earl and I sit with each other. We may—”

  “Oh, but it is necessary,” Robert interrupted, flashing the ladies a debonair smile. “It has been an age.”

  “But Lady Hollingwood's seating arrangements—”

  “We are not such an inflexible group. Mr. Hornsby will be happy to take my place near the head of the table, I am sure.”

  Lady Hollingwood turned quite green. Mr. Hornsby was not and never would be a person of importance. But before she could object Robert had called over the gentleman in question.

  “Percy,” he said in his most amiable tone, “you wouldn't mind leading Lady Hollingwood in to dinner? I would be much indebted to you if you would agree to take my place at the table.”

  Percy blinked. “B-b-but I am m-merely—”

  Robert gave him a hearty whack on the back as an interruption, sparing him future stutters. “You'll have a smashing time. Lady Hollingwood is an astonishing conversationalist.”

  Percy shrugged and offered Lady Hollingwood his arm. She accepted it—indeed, there was nothing else she could do without insulting an earl—but not before she threw a furious glance over her shoulder at Victoria.

  Victoria closed her eyes in agony. There was no way Lady Hollingwood was going to believe that this disaster was not her doing. It didn't matter that Robert had done all of the talking, that he was the one who'd been so insistent. Lady H. would find a way to pin this on the governess.

  Robert leaned down and smiled. “That wasn't so difficult, now was it?”

  She glowered at him. “If I had a pitchfork, I swear unto God I would run you through.”

  He only chuckled. “A pitchfork? It must be your country upbringing. Most women of my acquaintance would have chosen a dagger. Or perhaps a letter opener.”

  “She is going to have my head,” Victoria hissed, watching as the other couples promenaded into the dining room in order of rank. Since Robert had swapped places with Mr. Hornsby, he would be the last to enter the dining room and would sit at the lower end of the table.

  “A disrupted seating arrangement is not the end of the world,” Robert said.

  “To Lady Hollingwood it is,” Victoria retorted. “I may know you for the cretin you are, but all she sees is a lofty earl.”

  “It does come in handy on occasion,” he murmured.

  That earned him yet another furious glare. “She has been boasting about your presence at the house party for the past two days,” Victoria added. “She will not be happy that you will be sitting with the governess.”

  Robert shrugged. “I sat with her last night. What more could she want?”

  “I didn't even want to sit with you in the first place! I would have been perfectly happy with Mr. Hornsby. I would have been even happier with a tray in my room. I find the lot of you despicable.”

  “Yes, you have said as much.”

  “I will be lucky if she only dismisses me. I am sure she is fantasizing about some other more painful form of torture even as we speak.”

  “Chin up, Torie. It's our turn.” Robert took her arm and led her into the dining room, where they took their places. The other guests looked startled to see Robert at the end of the table. He smiled blandly and said, “Lady Hollingwood granted me a boon. Miss Lyndon is an old childhood friend, and I wanted to sit with her.”

  The other guests nodded furiously, clearly relieved to be provided with an explanation for this egregious breach of etiquette.

  “Miss Lyndon,” barked a portly middle-aged man. “I do not believe we have met. Who are your people?”

  “My father is the vicar in Bellfield, in Kent.”

  “Very close to Castleford,” Robert added. “We were children together.”

  Victoria barely suppressed a snort. Children, indeed. They had done things no child should do.

  While she was sitting there fuming, Robert introduced her to the people at their end of the table. The man on Victoria's left was Captain Charles Pays, of His Majesty's navy. Victoria thought he was rather handsome in a non-Robert sort of way. The portly man was Mr. Thomas Whistledown, and the lady to his right was Miss Lucinda Mayford, who, Victoria was quickly informed by Captain Pays, was a great heiress looking to snag a title. And finally, across from Robert was Mrs. William Happerton, a widow who had wasted no time in instructing Robert to call her Celia.

  Victoria rather thought that Mrs. Happerton was looking at Robert just a trifle too intently, which seemed reason enough for Victoria to turn her attention to Captain Pays. Not, she reasoned, that she was the least bit jealous. Still, there seemed some justice in it, and it required that she turn her back on Robert, which was appealing in and of itself.

  “Tell me, Captain Pays,” she said with a smile, “have you been in the navy very long?”

  “Four years, Miss Lyndon. It is a dangerous life, but I enjoy it.”

  “If you enjoy it so much,” Robert cut in, “why the devil aren't you on the continent doing your job?”

  Seething, Victoria turned to Robert and said, “Captain Pays is in the navy, which implies that he serves on a boat. It would be quite difficult to steer a boat on the continent, my lord. Boats tend to require water.” And then, while everyone was gaping at her for speaking to an earl as if he were a lackwit, she added, “Besides, I wasn't aware that you were included in our conversation.”

  Miss Mayford choked so hard on her soup that Mr. Whistledown was moved to whack her on the back. He looked as if he enjoyed the endeavor.

  Victoria turned back to Captain Pays. “You were saying…”

  He blinked, clearly uncomfortable with the way Robert was glowering at him over Victoria's head. “I was?”

  “Yes,” she said, trying to sound like a sweet, gentle lady. She soon discovered, however, that it was difficult to sound sweet and gentle through clenched teeth. “I would love to hear more a
bout what you do.”

  Robert was having similar problems with his temper. He was not finding Victoria's flirtations with the handsome captain amusing. It didn't matter that he knew she was doing it to rile him—her plan was working like a dream. It left him unpleasantly jealous, and what he really wanted to do was fling a forkful of peas at Captain Pays.

  He probably would have done it, too, if they weren't still on the soup course. Instead he stabbed at the soup with his spoon, but it didn't offer much resistance and thus did nothing to reduce his tension.

  He looked over at Victoria again. Her back was resolutely turned to him. He cleared his throat.

  She didn't move.

  He cleared his throat again.

  If anything, she leaned even closer to Pays.

  Robert looked down and watched his knuckles grow white from gripping his spoon too hard. He didn't want Victoria, but he damn well didn't want anyone else to have her.

  Well, that was not entirely true. He wanted her. Badly. He just didn't want to want her. He forced himself to remember every humiliating and pathetic moment of her betrayal. She was the worst sort of adventuress.

  And still he wanted her.

  He groaned.

  “Is aught amiss?” inquired the merry widow from across the table.

  Robert swung his head around to face Mrs. Happerton. She had been making eyes at him all night, and he had half a mind to take her up on her unspoken offer. She was certainly attractive enough, although she'd probably be more appealing if her hair were darker. Black, to be precise. Like Victoria's.

  It wasn't until he looked down that he realized he'd torn his napkin in two. His cloth napkin.

  “My lord?”

  He looked back up. “Mrs. Happerton. I must apologize. I have not been appropriately sociable.” He smiled devilishly. “You should give me a scolding.”

  He heard Victoria mutter something under her breath. He stole a glance in her direction. Her attention was not as single-mindedly focused on Captain Pays as she would like him to believe.

  A footman appeared on Robert's right, holding out a plate of—could it be?—peas. Victoria helped herself to a spoonful, exclaiming, “I adore peas.” She turned to Robert. “If I recall, you detest them. Pity we weren't served pea soup.”

  Miss Mayford coughed again, then lurched to her left to avoid Mr. Whistledown's blows to her back.

  “Actually,” Robert said, beaming, “I have developed a sudden fondness for peas. Just this evening, as a matter of fact.”

  Victoria harrumphed and returned her attention to Captain Pays. Robert slid some peas onto his fork, made certain that no one was looking, took aim, and let fly.

  And missed. The peas went flying in every direction, but none of them managed to connect with either Victoria or Pays. Robert grunted in disappointment. That was the sort of evening he was having. And it had started so nicely, too. Torturing Victoria and Lady H. in the drawing room had been such great fun.

  The meal wore on. No one enjoyed themselves, with the possible exception of Mr. Whistledown, who seemed oblivious to the barbs being hurled back and forth. Indeed, once the food was served, he seemed oblivious to everything.

  By the time dessert was cleared away, five of the six guests seated at the end of the table looked exhausted. The sixth, Mr. Whistledown, just looked full.

  Victoria had never been so thankful for anything when Lady Hollingwood suggested that the ladies retire to the drawing room. She had no desire for close contact with her employer, who was surely already deciding the best way to dismiss her. But even Lady H. was preferable to Robert, whose last contribution to the general conversation was, “It is indeed difficult to find good help. Governesses especially.”

  In the drawing room the ladies gossiped about this and that. Victoria, as a governess, had not been privy to “this” or “that,” so she remained silent. The frequent glares sent her way by Lady Hollingwood further convinced her to hold her tongue.

  After about half an hour, the gentlemen rejoined them for more conversation. Victoria noticed that Robert was not present and breathed a sigh of relief. She simply did not feel up to sparring with him any longer. As soon as she could politely excuse herself and retire to her room, she would.

  An opportunity presented itself a few minutes later. Everyone except Victoria had settled into little conversational groups. She edged toward the door, but when she was but three steps away, a male voice brought her to a halt.

  “It is my pleasure to meet you again, Miss Lyndon.”

  Victoria turned around, her face burning a dull red. “Lord Eversleigh.”

  “I did not know you would be gracing us with your presence this evening.”

  “I was a last minute replacement.”

  “Ah, yes, Miss Vinton's putrid stomach.”

  Victoria smiled tightly and said, “If you will excuse me, I must be getting back to my chamber.” With the briefest of nods she slipped out of the drawing room.

  From across the room, Robert narrowed his eyes as he watched Lord Eversleigh sweep his body into a vaguely mocking bow. Robert had been late returning to the drawing room, having stopped in a bath chamber to relieve himself along the way. When he arrived he had found Eversleigh cornering Victoria.

  And the way he was looking at her made Robert's blood boil. Captain Pays, for all his dashing good looks, was relatively harmless. Eversleigh was completely without morals or scruples.

  Robert started to cross the room, wanting to rip Eversleigh's head from his shoulders, but deciding to try a word or two of warning instead. But before he could reach him, Lady Hollingwood stood and announced the evening's entertainment. Singing and playing in the music room and cards for the gentlemen should they desire to gamble.

  Robert tried to pin down Eversleigh as the crowd dispersed, but Lady Hollingwood descended on him with an expression that could only be called purposeful, and he found himself trapped in conversation for the better part of an hour.

  Chapter 9

  Robert stood on the fringes of the music room, trying not to listen to the way Miss Mayford was mauling Scarlatti at the harpsichord. But her musical endeavors were not responsible for the sick feeling in his stomach.

  Funny how one's conscience surfaced at the damnedest of times.

  He'd spent the last few days dreaming about ruining Victoria. He hadn't been sure which he would enjoy more—the actual ruination, which promised to be a most heady affair indeed, or the simple knowledge that he had brought her low.

  But that evening something had shifted in Robert's heart. He didn't want anyone ever looking at Victoria with the kind of lecherous derision he'd seen in Eversleigh's eyes. And he wasn't particularly enamored with the polite interest he'd noticed in the good captain's expression, either.

  And he knew that he wanted her with him. If the last seven years were any indication, he didn't do very well without her. He might not trust her entirely, but he still wanted her in his life.

  But first there were other matters to attend to. Eversleigh. The fact that the other man had sought her out in the drawing room was a bad sign, indeed. Robert had to make certain that Eversleigh understood he was very serious about protecting Victoria from vicious rumors. The two men had known each other for years, ever since they'd attended Eton together as young boys. Eversleigh had been a bully then, and he was a bully now.

  Robert glanced around the room. Lady Hollingwood's incessant chatter had made him late to the impromptu recital, and now Eversleigh was nowhere to be seen. Robert pushed himself away from the wall and headed into the great hall. He'd find the bastard himself and make sure he kept quiet.

  Victoria tried to work on her lesson plans, but she couldn't concentrate. Damn him. She now believed that Robert had been serious in his courtship of her seven years ago, but his actions of late were deplorable at best.

  He'd tried to seduce her. Worse, he'd done it in a stranger's room, aware that they could be discovered at any moment. Then he'd had the audacity to
bait her in front of her employer and her employer's guests. And then finally he had put her in an impossible position, forcing her to accept him as a dinner partner. Lady Hollingwood would never forgive her for that. Victoria might as well begin packing her bags that night.

  But the worst part of all was that he'd made her desire him again. With an intensity that startled her.

  Victoria shook her head, trying to change the direction of her thoughts. She turned back to her lesson plans, determined to get at least a bit of work done that evening. Neville had enjoyed their color exercise the previous afternoon. Perhaps she would continue with blue for tomorrow. They could have tea in the blue salon. They could discuss azure and cobalt and midnight and sky. Perhaps she would bring a mirror so they could compare the colors of their eyes. Victoria's were dark blue, while Neville's were light, rather like Robert's.

  She sighed, wondering if the man would ever be far from her thoughts.

  She lifted her notebook again, preparing to read over the previous days' entries. She spent ten minutes looking at the words without actually reading a thing, and then a knock sounded at the door.

  Robert. It had to be.

  She had half a mind to ignore the summons, but she knew that he wouldn't go away. Wrenching open the door, she said, “I'm all aquiver to hear your excuse for your behavior, my lord.”

  Lord Eversleigh stood on the threshold, his eyes mocking but his mouth amused. “I see you were expecting someone else. Lord Macclesfield, perhaps?”

  Victoria flushed red, mortified. “No, I am not expecting him. But I—”

  He pushed his way past her, leaving her standing by the door.

  “Close it,” he ordered in a low voice.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord.”

  “The door.”

  She did nothing but blink, slowly becoming aware that she was in a very bad position. She took a tentative step toward the hall, not certain where she could run to escape him but willing to give it a try.