Victoria couldn't have said no if God himself had come down and told her to. And she had no doubt that she would have surrendered herself completely to Robert if a voice hadn't suddenly sounded in the room.
“Excuse me.”
Robert and Victoria flew apart, both whirling to face the door. An extremely well-dressed gentleman stood there. Victoria had never seen him before, although she had no doubt that he was a member of the house party. She looked away, utterly mortified at having been caught in such a compromising position.
“Eversleigh,” Robert said, his voice cold.
“I beg your pardon, Macclesfield,” the gentleman said. “But I thought this was my room.”
Victoria's eyes flew to Robert's face. The lying bastard! He'd probably had no idea whose room they were in all along. He'd only wanted to get her alone. He hadn't given a thought to her reputation. Or the threat to her position as governess.
Robert grabbed Victoria's hand and pulled her toward the door. “We'll be on our way, Eversleigh.”
Victoria could tell that Robert didn't like this Lord Eversleigh, but she was too furious with him at that moment to ponder the ramifications.
“The governess, eh?” Eversleigh said, assessing Victoria rudely. “It would be very difficult for you should the Hollingwoods learn of this little indiscretion.”
Robert halted in his tracks and turned on Eversleigh with a thunderous expression. “If you mention this to anyone, even your damned dog, I will rip your throat out.”
Eversleigh clucked. “You really ought to conduct your affairs in your own room.”
Robert hauled Victoria back into the hall and slammed the door shut. She immediately wrenched her arm free and turned on him. “Your room?” she practically yelled. “Your room? You bloody liar.”
“You were the one who was so anxious about being in the hall. And you'd do well to keep your voice down now if you truly do not wish to attract attention.”
“Don't you dare try to lecture me.” Victoria took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking body. “I don't even know who you are anymore. You are certainly not the boy I met seven years ago. You are ruthless, and worthless, and amoral, and—”
“I believe I understand your general idea.”
Robert's civilized blandness only served to make her angrier. “Don't you ever approach me again,” she said in a shaking, low voice. “Ever.”
She stalked off, wishing she had a door to slam in his face.
Chapter 8
Victoria had no idea how she was going to make it through that evening. Spending several hours in Robert's company was bad enough, but now she would also have to face Lord Eversleigh, who surely thought her a fallen woman.
She briefly considered inventing a case of the putrid stomach herself. She would say that she had crossed paths with Miss Hypatia Vinton the day before; it was not impossible for her to have contracted the same affliction. Surely Lady Hollingwood would not force her to attend a dinner party while ill. But then again Lady H. was the sort to assume that Victoria had developed nausea just to spite her. It would be grounds for dismissal. With Lady Hollingwood, anything was grounds for dismissal.
With a sigh Victoria regarded the dress laying on her bed. It wasn't quite as ugly as she'd feared, but it was too large and would hang on her body like a sack. Furthermore it was yellow, a color that had always made her look sallow. Feminine vanity aside, however, she decided not to let it upset her—she didn't want to attract attention, anyway. Victoria was more than happy to play the wallflower at this particular soiree. That such meek behavior would probably impress her employer was an added boon.
Victoria checked the clock in her room. It was a quarter of an hour before eight—time to start getting ready if she was to arrive downstairs at twenty-five minutes past the hour. Precisely twenty-five minutes past the hour, she thought with a grimace. Not a second sooner and not a second later. Victoria didn't doubt that her job depended on it.
She dressed her hair as best as she could. It wouldn't be as elegant as the other ladies', but she had no maid to fashion fancy ringlets or curl a fringe. A simple yet elegant chignon was the best she could do.
A look at the clock told her that it was time to head downstairs, and so she slipped out of her room, shutting and locking the door behind her. When she arrived in the drawing room, the Hollingwoods' guests were all present, sipping their drinks and chatting amiably. Lord Eversleigh was in a corner with his back mercifully toward her as he flirted with a young blond woman. Victoria breathed a sigh of relief; she was still mortified about that afternoon's incident.
Robert was leaning against a wall, his expression foreboding enough to scare off all but the most foolish socialites. His eyes were intent and they had been focused on the door when she entered. He had obviously been watching for her.
Victoria looked around. No one seemed inclined to approach him. Tonight's batch of socialites must have been considerably less foolish than average.
Robert took a step in her direction, but was cut off by Lady Hollingwood, who made her way immediately to Victoria's side. “Thank you for being prompt,” she said. “Mr. Percival Hornsby will be escorting you in to dinner. I will introduce you to him presently.”
Victoria followed her employer, barely able to believe the woman had actually uttered the words “thank” and “you” in the same sentence. Then, just when she and Lady Hollingwood had nearly crossed the room, she heard Robert's voice.
“Miss Lyndon? Victoria?”
Victoria turned around, dread filling her stomach.
“My word, it is you!” Robert's face was a picture of incredulity as he closed the distance between them in easy strides.