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Everything and the Moon (The Lyndon Sisters #1)(25)

Author:Julia Quinn

“I am NOT—” She broke off, realizing that she was working herself into a snit. She cleared her throat and then forced her voice into carefully modulated tones. “I am not working myself into a snit.”

He smiled at her in an annoyingly condescending manner.

“Robert—”

“I do like the sound of my given name on your lips.” He sighed. “Always have.”

“My lord—” she ground out.

“That's even better. It implies a certain subservience that is most appealing.”

She gave up trying to communicate and turned her entire body away from him.

“What are you writing?” he asked, directly over her shoulder.

Victoria stiffened at the feel of his breath on her neck. “Nothing of interest to you.”

“Is it a diary?”

“No. Go away.”

He gave up on charm in favor of persistence and craned his head to get a better view. “Are you writing about me?”

“I said it's not a diary.”

“I don't believe you.”

She whirled around. “Would you cease pestering—” Her words stopped short when she found herself nose to nose with him. She pulled back.

He smiled.

She pulled back farther.

He smiled wider.

She pulled back even farther. She fell over.

Robert immediately jumped to his feet and offered her his hand. “Would you like some assistance?”

“NO!” Victoria pulled herself upright, grabbed her blanket, and stalked over to another tree. She settled back down, hoping he would take the hint, but doubting he actually would.

He didn't, of course. “You never did tell me what you were writing,” he said as he sat down beside her.

“Oh, for goodness' sake!” She thrust the notebook into his hands. “Read it if you must.”

He scanned the lines and cocked a brow. “Lesson plans.”

“I am a governess.” It was perhaps the most sarcastic tone she'd ever used.

“You're quite good,” he mused.

She rolled her eyes.

“How does one know how to be a governess?” he asked. “It isn't as if one can attend governess school.”

Victoria closed her eyes for a moment, trying to fight back a wave of nostalgia. That was exactly the sort of question Robert would have asked when they were younger. “I don't know how others do it,” she finally replied. “But I try to emulate my mother. She taught Ellie and me before she died. And then I took over and taught Ellie until I had nothing left to teach.”

“I can't imagine your running out of things to teach.”

Victoria smiled. “By the time Ellie was ten, she was teaching me mathematics. She has always been—” She broke off, horrified by how comfortable she'd grown with him in these past few minutes. She stiffened and said, “It's no matter.”

One corner of Robert's mouth lifted into a knowing smile, as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking. He looked back down at her notebook and turned a page. “You obviously take great pride in what you do,” he said. “I thought you hated this position.”

“I do. But that doesn't mean that I will do less than my best. That would be unfair to Neville.”

“Neville is a brat.”

“Yes, but he deserves a good education.”

He stared at her, surprised by her convictions. She was a beautiful schemer whose only criterion for a husband was a fortune. And yet she worked herself to the bone to ensure that a detestable little boy received a good education.

He handed the notebook back to her. “I wish I'd had a governess like you.”

“You were probably worse than Neville,” she retorted. But she smiled as she said it.

His heart leapt, and he had to remind himself that he didn't like her, that he was out to seduce and ruin her. “I can't imagine that there is anything wrong with the boy that a bit of discipline can't mend.”

“If it were only that easy. Lady Hollingwood has forbidden me to discipline him.”

“Lady H. is a corkbrain, as my young cousin Harriet would say.”

“Why did you come to her house party, then? She was quite beside herself that an earl would be in attendance.”

“I don't know.” He paused, then leaned forward. “But I'm glad I did.”

She didn't move for a few seconds, couldn't have moved if her life depended on it. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and it was so achingly familiar. “Don't do this,” she whispered.

“This?” He swayed forward, and his lips brushed her cheek in the most feather-light of caresses.

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