Everything and the Moon (The Lyndon Sisters #1)(25)

Victoria coughed and managed to get out, “Neville, I'm sure that is none of our business.”

“No, Neville, I'm not,” Robert replied.

The boy cocked his head. “Maybe you should ask Miss Lyndon. Then you could come live here with us.”

Robert looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. “I asked her once.”

“Oh, God.” Victoria groaned. Life didn't get very much worse than this.

“You did?” Neville said.

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “She wouldn't have me.”

Neville whipped his head around to face Victoria. “You said no?” His voice rose to a horrified shriek on the last word.

“I-I-I—” Victoria was spluttering, quite unable to get a word out.

“Miss Lyndon?” Robert prodded, looking as if he hadn't enjoyed himself quite so heartily in many years.

“I didn't say—Oh, for God's sake.” Victoria looked at Robert with a ferocious expression. “You should be ashamed of yourself, my lord.”

“Ashamed?” He feigned innocence.

“Using a young boy like this to satisfy your…your…”

“My what?”

“Your need to hurt me. It is unconscionable.”

“Why, Miss Lyndon, I'm insulted that you would think I would stoop to such levels.”

“There is no need to stoop,” she said icily. “You have always been lodged somewhere between the gutter and hell.”

“Did you say hell?” Neville screeched.

Robert began to shake with silent laughter.

“Neville, we are going back to the house this instant,” Victoria said firmly.

“But my colors! I want to finish with green.”

She snatched his hand and started hauling him toward the house. “We shall have our tea in the green salon.” Victoria didn't bother to look back. The last thing she wanted to see was Robert hunched over with laughter.





If Robert's intention was to torture her into insanity, Victoria thought wryly later that day, he was doing a rather good job of it. She never dreamed that he would dare seek her out in her room again; she had made it abundantly clear that such behavior was unacceptable. But obviously he didn't care, because at one o'clock, while Neville was taking his riding lesson, he slipped into her room with nary a guilty look.

“Robert!” Victoria exclaimed.

“Are you busy?” he asked, his face a picture of innocence as he closed the door behind him.

“Busy!” she nearly screeched. “Get out!”

“If you didn't want company, you should have locked your door.”

“You can be certain I will adopt that habit in the future.” Victoria paused, trying to unclench her jaw. She wasn't successful. “What are you doing here?” she ground out.

He held up a plate. “Bringing you a piece of chocolate cake. I know how much you love it, and I didn't think Lady H. was the sort to share her sweets with the governess.”

“Robert, you must leave.”

He ignored her. “Although I cannot imagine that Lady H. is unaware that you are far more beautiful than she is, and I would not put it past her to purposefully try to make you fat.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Really, Victoria, you are most unappreciative. Very bad manners. I'm surprised at you.”

Victoria thought that she must be in the middle of a very strange dream. That could be the only explanation. Robert, lecturing her on propriety? “I must be insane,” she muttered. “If you're not, then I must be.”

“Nonsense. What could be wrong with two friends enjoying each other's company?”

“That is not our situation, and well you know it.” Victoria planted her hands on her hips. “And I'm going to have to ask you not to play your silly games with me in front of Neville anymore. It isn't right.”

He held up his hand as if making a solemn vow. “No more games in front of Neville.”

“Thank you.”

“Although I did convince him to call you Miss Lyndon, did I not?”

Victoria let out a sigh. She was beyond annoyed with him for that afternoon's antics, but her sense of fair play demanded that she thank him. “Yes, Robert, I do thank you for your intervention with Neville yesterday, but—”

He waved his hand. “It was nothing, I assure you.”

“Nevertheless, I thank you. However—”

“The boy needed a firm hand.”

“I agree with you, but—”

“It is really too bad that I had to be the one to do it, as that task ought to fall to his parents.”

She planted her hands on her hips again. “Why do I get the idea that you are trying to stop me from speaking?”

“It may be”—he leaned casually against the doorjamb—” because I know you're trying to dismiss me.”

“Exactly.”

“Bad idea.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I said it's a bad idea. Most inadvisable.”

She blinked in aggravation. “It is quite possibly the most advisable idea I've had in a long time.”