“No,” he said, leaning forward, “it is because we have discussed that topic to death. I will not allow you to put yourself in constant danger.”
“It isn't your place to ‘allow’ me anything.”
“You are not usually so addlebrained as to endanger yourself out of spite.” He crossed his arms, his mouth settling into a grim line. “I did what I thought was best.”
“And so you kidnapped me,” she said bitterly.
“If you recall I offered you the option of residing with my relatives. You refused.”
“I want to be independent.”
“One doesn't have to be alone to be independent.”
Victoria couldn't think of a suitable rebuttal to that statement, so she remained silent.
“When I marry you,” Robert said softly, “I want it to be a partnership in every sense of the word. I want to consult you on matters of land management and tenant care. I want us to decide together how to raise our children. I don't know why you are so certain that loving me means losing yourself.”
She turned away, not wanting him to see the emotion welling up in her eyes.
“Someday you will realize what it means to be loved.” He let out a weary sigh. “I just wish it would be soon.”
Victoria pondered that statement the rest of the way to Whitsable.
They stopped to eat at a cheerful inn with outdoor dining. Robert scanned the sky and said, “It looks as if it might rain, but not, I think, in the next hour. Would you like to eat outside?” She offered him a tentative smile. “The sun feels lovely.”
Robert took her arm and escorted her to a little table with a view of the water. He was feeling very optimistic. He sensed that he had somehow gotten through to her in their conversation in the carriage. She wasn't ready yet to admit that she loved him, but he thought she might be a bit closer to it than she'd been the day before.
“The village of Whitsable has been famous for its oysters since the time of the Romans,” he said as they sat down.
She plucked at her napkin with nervous fingers. “Really?”
“Yes. I don't know why we never came here when we were courting.”
She smiled ruefully. “My father wouldn't have allowed it. And it would have been a long drive to the north Kent coast.”
“Do you ever wonder what our lives might be like if we'd married seven years ago?”
Her eyes slid to her lap. “All the time,” she whispered.
“We certainly would have dined here already,” he said. “I wouldn't have let seven years go by without a meal of fresh oysters.”
She didn't say anything.
“I would imagine we would have already had a child. Perhaps two or three.” Robert knew he was being a touch cruel. Despite Victoria's distaste for the life of a governess, she had a maternal streak a mile wide. He was purposefully tugging on her heartstrings by mentioning the children they might have had together.
“Yes,” she said, “you're probably correct.”
She looked so forlorn that Robert didn't have the heart to continue. He planted a bright smile on his face and said, “Oysters, I understand, are supposed to have certain amorous properties.”
“I'm sure you would like to believe that.” Victoria looked visibly relieved that he'd changed the subject, even though the new topic was beyond racy.
“No, no, it's considered common knowledge.”
“Much of what is considered common knowledge has no basis in fact,” she countered.
“A good point. Being of a scientific bent myself, I don't like to accept anything as true unless it has been subjected to rigorous experimentation.”
Victoria chuckled.
“In fact,” Robert said, tapping his fork against the tablecloth, “I think that an experiment might be just the thing.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you proposing?”
“Simply that you eat some oysters this afternoon. Then I shall monitor you most closely”—he wiggled his eyebrows in a comical manner—” to see if you appear to like me any better.”
Victoria laughed. She couldn't help herself. “Robert,” she said, aware that she was beginning to enjoy herself despite her best intentions to remain a grouch, “that is the most harebrained scheme I have ever heard.”
“Perhaps, but even if it doesn't work, I shall certainly enjoy the monitoring.”
She laughed again. “Just as long as you don't partake of the oysters yourself. If you ‘like’ me any better, I may find myself being carted off to France.”