Everything and the Moon (8 page)

“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.

V
ictoria 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.”

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 about 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.