“Yes, but you're family.” This was said with an expansive wave of Harriet's arm.
“I am not family,” Victoria ground out.
“You will be,” Harriet replied, “if Cousin Robert has anything to do with it. And he usually gets what he wants.”
Victoria planted her hands on her hips and glared out the window at his carriage. “Not this time.”
“Er, Victoria,” Harriet said, looking a touch anxious, “I haven't known you for very long, so it would be quite beyond me to know the intricacies of your facial expressions, but I must say I don't like the look in your eye.”
Victoria turned slowly around, baffled. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, I must caution you against it.”
“I'm going to talk with him,” Victoria said resolutely, and then, before anyone could stop her, she marched out of the dress shop.
Robert jumped down from his carriage in an instant. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Victoria cut him off. “You wanted to speak with me?” she said, her voice sharp.
“Yes, I—”
“Good. I want to talk with you, too.”
“Torie, I—”
“Don't think, even for a second, that you may manage my life. I don't know what has prompted your remarkable change of heart, but I am not a puppet who may be maneuvered at your will.”
“Of course not, but—”
“You cannot insult me the way you did and expect me to forget about it.”
“I realize that, but—”
“Furthermore, I am quite content without you. You are high-handed, arrogant, insufferable—”
“—and you love me,” Robert interrupted, looking quite pleased to have finally gotten a word in edgewise.
“I most certainly do not!”
“Victoria,” he said in an irritatingly pacifying tone, “you will always love me.”
Her mouth fell open. “You are mad.”
He swept into a courtly bow and raised her limp hand to his lips. “I have never been saner than I am at this very moment.”
Victoria's breath caught in her throat. Fragments of memory flashed through her mind, and she was seventeen again. Seventeen, utterly in love, and desperate to be kissed. “No,” she said, choking on her words. “No. You are not going to do this to me again.”
His eyes burned into hers. “Victoria, I love you.”
She wrenched her hand away. “I can't listen to this.” And then she ran back into the shop.
Robert watched her retreating form and sighed, wondering why he was so surprised that she hadn't fallen into his arms and passionately declared her undying love for him. Of course she was going to be angry with him. Furious. He had been so insane with worry and so racked with guilt that he hadn't for a moment stopped to think how she might react to his sudden reappearance in her life.
He didn't have time to ponder this any further, however, because his aunt came storming out of the dress shop.
“What,” she screeched, “did you say to that poor girl? Don't you think you've done enough to her for one day?”
Robert impaled his aunt with a glare. Really, all of this interference was getting to be most annoying. “I told her that I love her.”
That seemed to take some of the air out of her sails. “You did?”
Robert didn't even bother to nod.
“Well, whatever you said, don't say it again.”
“You want me to tell her that I don't love her?”
His aunt planted her hands on her ample hips. “She is very upset.”
Robert had had just about enough of female meddling. “Damn it, so am I.”
Mrs. Brightbill drew back and placed an affronted hand on her chest. “Robert Kemble, did you just curse in my presence?”
“I have spent the last seven years utterly miserable because of a stupid misunderstanding propagated by a pair of goddamn interfering fathers. Frankly, Aunt Brightbill, your offended sensibilities are not high on my list of priorities just now.”
“Robert Kemble, I have never been more insulted—”
“—in your entire life.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.
“—in my entire life. And I don't care if you are an earl. I'm going to advise that poor, poor, dear of a girl not to marry you.” With a loud harrumph, Mrs. Brightbill turned on her heel and stomped back into the dress shop.
“Hens!” Robert yelled at the door. “All of you! You're nothing but a bunch of hens!”