And rats.
Robert watched as a street urchin picked the pocket of an unsuspecting man across the street. He exhaled raggedly. He was going to have to get Victoria out of this neighborhood, if not for her safekeeping then for the sake of his sanity.
It was a miracle she hadn't been raped or murdered already.
He turned back to the landlady just in time to see the door slam in his face and hear a key turn in the lock. He crossed the short distance to the spot just below Victoria's window and started to eye the side of the building, looking for possible footholds for his ascent to her room.
“Milord.” MacDougal's voice was soft but insistent.
“If I can get my foot up to that still, I should be able to make it all the way up,” Robert growled.
“Milord, she's safe enough for the night.”
Robert whirled around. “Do you have any idea what kind of neighborhood this is?”
MacDougal stiffened at his tone. “Begging your pardon, milord, but I grew up in a neighborhood like this.”
Robert's face immediately softened. “Damn. I'm sorry, MacDougal, I didn't mean—”
“I know you didna.” MacDougal grasped Robert's upper arm and gently began to lead him away. “Your lady needs to stew on this for an evening, milord. Leave her be for a touch. You can talk to her on the morrow.”
Robert gave the building one last scowl. “Do you really think she'll be all right for the night?”
“You heard the lock on that door. She's as safe as if she were tucked away in Mayfair with you. Probably safer.”
Robert gave his next scowl to MacDougal. “I'm coming after her tomorrow.”
“Of course you are, milord.”
Robert put his hand on the carriage and exhaled. “Am I mad, MacDougal? Am I completely, utterly, incurably mad?”
“Well, now, milord, that's not my place to say.”
“How delightfully ironic that now would be the time you finally decide to exercise a bit of verbal circumspection.”
MacDougal only laughed.
Victoria sat on her narrow bed and hugged her arms to her body, as if curling herself into the tiniest ball possible would make all this confusion go away. She had finally begun to carve out a life with which she could be content. Finally! Was it so much to want a bit of stability? Of permanence? She'd had seven years of rude employers threatening her with dismissal at every turn. She'd found security at Madame Lambert's dress shop. And friendship. Madame clucked about like a mother hen, always concerned about the welfare of her employees, and Victoria adored the camaraderie among the shopgirls.
Victoria swallowed as she realized she was crying. She hadn't had a friend in years. She couldn't count the number of times she'd fallen asleep clutching Ellie's letters to her chest. But letters couldn't give a gentle pat on the arm, and letters never smiled.
And Victoria had been so very lonely.
Seven years ago Robert had been more than the love of her life. He'd been her very best friend. Now he was back, and he said he loved her. Victoria choked on a sob. Why did he have to do this now? Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?
And why did she still have to care so much? She didn't want to have anything to do with him, much less marry him, and still her heart raced with every touch. She could feel his presence across a room, and one heavy-lidded gaze had the power to make her mouth go completely dry.
And when he kissed her…
Deep in her heart, Victoria knew that Robert had the power to make her happy beyond her wildest dreams. But he also had the power to crush her heart, and he'd already done so once—no, twice.
And Victoria was so tired of the pain.
Chapter 13
R obert was waiting on her doorstep when she left for work the next morning. Victoria wasn't particularly surprised; he was nothing if not stubborn. He'd probably been planning his return all night.
She let out a deep breath. “Good morning, Robert.” It seemed infantile to pretend to ignore him. “I've come to escort you to Madame Lambert's,” he said.
“That is very kind of you, but wholly unnecessary.”
He stepped directly in her path, forcing her to look up at him. “I beg to differ with you. It is never safe for a young woman to walk in London unescorted, but it is especially dangerous in this area.”
“I have managed to get myself to the dress shop every day for the past month,” she said.
His mouth settled into a grim line. “I can assure you that does not set my mind at ease.”
“Setting your mind at ease has never been at the top of my list of priorities.”