Everything and the Moon (The Lyndon Sisters #1)(3)

“Here we are.” Robert emerged from the forest and swept into a courtly bow, a small bouquet of wild violets in his right hand. “For my lady.”

“Thank you,” Victoria whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes. She felt unbelievably moved, as if this man had the power to carry her across the world—across the universe.

He released all but one of the violets into her hand. “This is the real reason I picked them,” he murmured, tucking the last flower behind her ear. “There. Now you are perfect.”

Victoria stared at the bouquet in her hand. “I've never seen anything so lovely.”

Robert stared at Victoria. “Neither have I.”

“They smell heavenly.” She leaned down and took another sniff. “I adore the smell of flowers. There is honeysuckle growing just outside my window at home.”

“Is there?” he said absently, reaching out to touch her face, but catching himself just in time. She was an innocent, and he didn't want to scare her.

“Thank you,” Victoria said, suddenly looking up.

Robert jumped to his feet. “Don't move! Not an inch.”

“Again?” she burst out, her face erupting into the widest of smiles. “Where are you going?”

He grinned. “To find a portrait artist.”

“A what?”

“I want this moment captured for eternity.”

“Oh, my lord,” said Victoria. Her body shook with laughter as she rose to her feet.

“Robert,” he corrected.

“Robert.” She was being dreadfully informal, but his given name fell so naturally from her lips. “You are so amusing. I cannot remember the last time I laughed so much.”

He leaned down and laid another kiss upon her hand.

“Oh dear,” Victoria said, glancing up at the sky. “It's grown so late. Papa might come looking for me, and if he found me alone with you—”

“All he could do is force us to marry,” Robert interrupted with a lazy grin.

She stared at him. “And that isn't enough to send you scurrying off to the next county?”

He leaned forward and brushed the softest of kisses against her lips. “Shhhh. I've already decided that I'm going to marry you.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you mad?”

He drew back, regarding her with an expression that hovered somewhere between amusement and amazement. “Actually, Victoria, I don't think I have ever been saner than I am at this very moment.”





Victoria pushed open the door to the cottage she shared with her father and younger sister. “Papa!” she called out. “I'm sorry I'm late. I was out exploring. There is still so much of the area I have not seen.” She poked her head into his study. Her father was seated behind his desk, hard at work on his next sermon. He waved his hand in the air, presumably signaling to her that all was well and he did not wish to be disturbed. She tiptoed from the room.

Victoria made her way to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal. She and her sister Eleanor took turns making supper, and Victoria was on duty that night. She tasted the beef stew she had put on the stove earlier that day, added a bit of salt, then sank down into a chair.

He wanted to marry her.

Surely she had been dreaming. Robert was an earl. An earl! And he would eventually become a marquess. Men of such lofty titles didn't marry vicar's daughters.

Still, he had kissed her. Victoria touched her lips, not at all surprised to see that her hands were trembling. She couldn't imagine that the kiss had been as meaningful to him as it had been to her—he was, after all, many years older than she was. He had surely kissed dozens of ladies before her.

Her fingers traced circles and hearts on the wooden tabletop as her mind dreamily recounted the afternoon. Robert. Robert. She mouthed his name, then wrote it on the table with her finger. Robert Phillip Arthur Kemble. She traced all his names out.

He was terribly handsome. His dark hair had been wavy and just a touch too long for fashion. And his eyes—one would have expected such a dark-haired man to have dark eyes, but his had been clear and blue. Pale blue, they should have looked icy, but his personality had kept them warm.

“What are you doing, Victoria?”

Victoria looked up to see her sister in the doorway. “Oh, hello, Ellie.”

Eleanor, younger than Victoria by exactly three years, crossed the room and picked Victoria's hand up off the table. “You're going to give yourself splinters.” She dropped Victoria's hand and sat down across from her.

Victoria looked at her sister's face but saw only Robert. Finely molded lips, always ready with a smile, the vague hint of whiskers on his chin. She wondered if he had to be shaved twice a day.

“Victoria!”

Victoria looked up blankly. “Did you say something?”

“I was asking you—for the second time—if you wanted to come with me tomorrow to bring food to Mrs. Gordon. Papa is sharing our tithe with her family while she is ill.”

Victoria nodded. As vicar, her father received a tithe of one-tenth of the area's farm produce. Much of this was sold to care for the village church, but there was always more than enough food for the Lyndon family. “Yes, yes,” she said absently. “Of course I'll go.”