Everything and the Moon (9 page)

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.

R
obert 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.

He moved like a cat, though, and before she knew it, he'd slammed the door closed and was leaning insolently against it. “You're a very beautiful woman,” he said.

“I think you have the wrong idea, my lord,” she said quickly.

He moved forward, stalking her. “I pride myself on always having the right idea.”

“No, what I mean is…Lord Macclesfield…He and I…We…”

He touched her cheek. “Does Macclesfield find such protestations of innocence endearing? I assure you there is no need to playact on my behalf. I am quite pleased with you the way you are. Spoiled goods can be so very tasty.”

Victoria shuddered with revulsion. “My lord,” she said, attempting to reason with him. “I beg of you—”

He chuckled. “I do like to hear a woman beg. I believe I'm going to enjoy you, Miss Lyndon.” He reached out and pulled her harshly against him. “Just a taste of what you've already given so freely. I promise you won't regret it. I'm a most generous man.”

“I don't want your money,” she ground out, twisting her head to the side. “I just want you to leave.”

“We can do this two ways,” he said, his eyes growing menacingly dark. “You can stop your pretending and have a bit of fun, or you can fight me all the way. I don't particularly care which you choose. Either way, I am assured a good time.”

She slapped him across the face.

“That,” he bit out, “was a mistake.” He threw her onto the bed and then pinned her there with the weight of his body.

Victoria began to fight. And then she began to scream.

 

Robert tried Eversleigh's room first, but he wasn't terribly surprised when he didn't find him. He then searched the guest wing, thinking that Eversleigh might be entertaining himself with a female guest. No luck, although he did discover that Lord Winwood's wife happened to be having an affair with the husband of Lord Winwood's mistress.

Robert didn't even bat an eyelash. Such behavior was common enough among his set, much as it was beginning to sicken him.

He then tried the card room, knowing that Eversleigh had a fondness for gambling.

“Eversleigh?” one of the players said. “He was here earlier.”

“Was he?” Robert asked, trying to ignore the speculative glances from his friends. It was common knowledge that the two men were not friendly. “Do you know where he went?”

“I saw him heading upstairs,” someone said.

Robert stifled a groan. He would have to search the entire guest wing again.

“Most odd,” someone else added. “He used the servants' stairs.”

The sick feeling that had been rolling around in Robert's stomach all evening exploded with blinding terror. He ran from the room, taking the steps on the servants' stairs three at a time.

And then he heard the screams.

Victoria. If he failed her now…

Robert couldn't even complete the thought.

 

Victoria refused to resign herself to her fate. She fought like a madwoman, clawed like a cat. She knew that her actions only made Eversleigh angrier, but she could not allow herself to be raped with nary a protest.

But he was strong. Much stronger than she was, and it wasn't difficult for him to hold her down while he tore at her clothing. He lifted his hand from her mouth to yank at the neckline of her gown, and she seized the opportunity to scream. Loud.

“Shut up, you bitch,” he hissed, twisting her head sideways and forcing her cheek into the pillow. Victoria bit his hand.

“Goddamn, you little whore!” he yelled. He grabbed another pillow and jammed it over her face.

Suddenly Victoria couldn't breathe. Good Lord, did he mean to kill her? Her terror increased until she thought she might go mad. She kicked and scraped, but she couldn't see a thing, and she was growing weaker.

And then, just when the world began to turn black around the edges, she heard a splintering crash, followed by a cry of rage unlike anything in her comprehension.

Eversleigh was abruptly lifted from her, and Victoria immediately threw the pillow aside and scrambled off the bed. She ran to a corner, her lungs burning with every breath and movement, but she had to get off that bed. She had to.

The room filled with noise. Something crashed, someone yelled. There was a sickening sound that could only be flesh against bone. But Victoria didn't look up. She couldn't even open her eyes. All she wanted to do was block out the terror.

Finally, however, she forced herself to face her demons, and when she did she saw Robert. He had knocked Eversleigh to the ground and was straddling him, beating his fist mercilessly into Eversleigh's face.

“Robert,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank God.”

Robert made no indication he'd heard her. He just kept pummeling Eversleigh.

“Robert,” she said, louder this time. She was still in a daze, and she couldn't stop shaking, and she needed him.

But Robert was beyond communication. He said nothing, just grunted and yelled, and when he finally looked up at Victoria, there was something wild and primitive in his eyes. Finally, still straddling the now unconscious Eversleigh, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and said, “Did he hurt you?”

Her mouth opened a fraction of an inch, but she couldn't say anything.

“Did he
hurt
you?” Robert's eyes burned with rage, and Victoria realized in that instant that if she said yes, he would kill Eversleigh. She shook her head frantically. It wasn't a lie. Not really. Eversleigh hadn't hurt her. Not in the way Robert meant.

Robert dropped the unconscious man and rushed to her side. He crouched down beside her and touched her cheek. His hand was shaking. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head again.

“Victoria, I—”

He was interrupted by a groan coming from the middle of the room. Robert cursed under his breath and then muttered a quick “Excuse me.” He stalked back to Eversleigh, picked him up by his collar and the seat of his pants, and tossed him into the hall, where he landed in a crumpled heap. Robert closed the door gently and made his way back to Victoria's side.

She was shaking violently, the tremors rocking her entire body. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound. Robert felt panic rise up within him anew. What had that bastard done to her?

“Shhhh,” he crooned, having no idea what he would say that could make her feel better. “Shhhh.”

“Robert,” she gasped. “Robert.”

“I'm here, my love.” He reached down and picked her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck with surprising swiftness. She was grasping him frantically, as if letting go would mean the very difference between life and death.

He moved to the bed, intending to sit down and hold her until her shaking subsided, but she suddenly bucked in his arms. “Not the bed!” she said desperately. “Not there.”

Robert looked down at the tangled sheets and was sickened. When he'd burst into the room, Eversleigh had had a pillow over Victoria's face. She could have been killed.

The thought was like a punch in the gut.

Robert looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished, so he sat down on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. He held Victoria silently for several minutes.

Finally she looked up, her eyes entreating. “I tried to fight him,” she said. “I did.”

“I know you did, Torie.”

“He was too strong.” She looked as if she was trying to convince him of something that was very important to her. “He was stronger than me.”

“You were wonderful,” he said, trying to ignore the tears that were pricking at his eyes.

“But he put a pillow over me. And then I couldn't breathe. And I couldn't fight.” She began to shake anew. “I didn't want to let him…I didn't want it. I swear I didn't want it.”

He gripped her shoulders and turned her until they were nose to nose. “This was
not
your fault, Torie,” he said fiercely. “Do not blame yourself.”

“If you hadn't come—”

“But I did.” Robert settled her back into his arms and held her tightly. It would be a long time before she stopped shaking, a long time until Eversleigh's face was no longer imprinted on her brain.

It would be a long time for him, too, he realized. He was not unaware that this incident was at least partly his fault. If he hadn't been so damned angry at her this afternoon and so damned eager to get her alone, he wouldn't have hauled her from the hall into the nearest room. A room that happened to belong to Eversleigh. And that evening—flaunting convention by insisting that he lead Victoria into dinner. Most of the guests would believe his story that they were childhood friends, but Eversleigh knew there was more.

Of course the bastard would think that Victoria was a loose woman. Eversleigh had always been the sort to believe that any female without the protection of a powerful family was his for the plucking. Robert should have realized that from the first, and taken measures to protect her.

He didn't know how long he sat there on the ground, cradling Victoria in his arms. It could have been an hour; it could have been just ten minutes. But eventually her breathing evened out, and he knew she had fallen asleep. He didn't want to speculate on what her dreams might be that night; he prayed she didn't dream at all.

Gently he set her down on her bed. He knew she had an aversion to the spot after Eversleigh's attempted rape, but he didn't know where else to put her. He couldn't bring her to his room. Such an action could only bring about her ruin, and Robert had realized that, regardless of her actions seven years earlier, he couldn't bring himself to destroy her life so completely. The irony of it nearly unmanned him. All these years he'd dreamed about her, fantasized about the revenge he might enact if he saw her again.

But now, with vengeance within his sights, he just couldn't do it. Something within her still spoke to his heart, and he knew he could never live with himself if he purposefully caused her pain.