Robert stared at her a full minute. “You're different,” he finally said.
“I am not the same girl you tried to take advantage of, if that is what you mean.” She stood straight and tall. “It has been seven years, Robert. I am a different person now. As, apparently, are you.”
Robert left the room without another word, swiftly making his way from the servants' quarters to the guest wing where he'd been given a room.
What the hell had he been thinking?
He hadn't been. That could be the only explanation. Why else would he arrange for Victoria's charge to be entertained all morning and then steal into her room?
“Because she makes me feel alive,” he whispered to himself.
He couldn't remember the last time his senses were so finely tuned, the last time he'd felt such an exquisitely heady rush.
No, that wasn't entirely true. He remembered all too well. It had been the last time he'd held her in his arms. Seven years ago.
It was some consolation to learn that those years had not brought her happiness, either. She had been a scheming adventuress, intent upon marrying into a fortune, but all she had found was a miserable position as a governess.
Circumstances had certainly brought her low. He might be dead inside, but at least he had the freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. Victoria was desperately trying to hold on to a livelihood she hated, always fearing that she'd be tossed out without a reference.
That was when it occurred to him. He could have her and his revenge, too.
His body sang at the thought of holding her in his arms, of kissing every inch of that delectable body.
His mind raced at the idea that they might be discovered by Victoria's employers, who would then never allow her to watch over their precious Neville.
Victoria would be cut adrift. He doubted she would return to her father. She had too much pride for that. No, she would be all alone, with no one to turn to.
Except him.
He would need a very good plan this time. Robert had spent two hours lying motionless on his bed, ignoring knocks on the door, ignoring the clock that told him that breakfast was no longer being served. He'd simply put his hands behind his head, looked up at the ceiling, and started to scheme.
If he was going to woo Victoria into his bed, he would have to charm her there. This was not a problem. Robert had spent the last seven years in London, and he certainly knew how to be charming.
He was, in fact, widely reputed to be one of the most charming men in all Britain, which was why he'd never lacked for female companionship.
But Victoria presented a new challenge. She was vastly distrustful of him and seemed to think that all he wanted was to seduce her. Which wasn't far from the truth, of course, but it would not aid his cause to let her continue to believe that his motives were so impure.
He would have to win back her friendship first. The concept was oddly appealing, even as his body hardened at the mere thought of her.
She would try to push him away. He was certain of that. Hmmm. He would have to be charming and persistent. In fact, he would probably have to be more persistent than charming.
Robert bounded out of bed, splashed some very cold water on his face, and left the room with only one aim.
Finding Victoria.
She was sitting under a shady tree, looking heartbreakingly lovely and innocent, but Robert tried to ignore the latter. Neville was some twenty yards away, screaming about Napoléon and slashing a toy saber wildly through the air. Victoria had one eye on the boy and one eye on a small notebook in which she was slowly writing. “This doesn't seem like such a dreadful job,” Robert said, lowering himself to the ground next to her. “Sitting under a shady tree, enjoying the afternoon sunshine…”
She sighed. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
“Not precisely. I believe you told me to leave your room. Which I did.”
She stared at him as if he were the world's biggest fool. “Robert,” she said, not needing to finish the sentence. Her beleaguered tone said it all.
He shrugged. “I missed you.”
At that, her mouth fell open. “Do try to come up with something even slightly believable.”
“Enjoying the country air?” He leaned back and supported himself with his elbows.
“How can you come here and make polite conversation?”
“I thought that was what friends did.”
“We are not friends.”
He grinned rakishly. “We could be.”
“No,” she said firmly. “We couldn't.”
“Now, now, Torie, don't work yourself into a snit.”