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.”
“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.”