Everything and the Moon (The Lyndon Sisters #1)(57)

“I don't believe you.”

“Victoria, I am not the villain you seem to think me. Besides, was I anywhere near your food today? I didn't even give you a box of pastries.”

That much was true. The day before, Victoria had delivered a stinging diatribe on the wastefulness of one person being given so much food, and extracted a promise from Robert that he would donate any pastries he'd already purchased to a needy orphanage. And as furious as she was with him, she had to admit that he was not the sort to use poison.

“If it makes any difference,” he added, “I had no plans to abduct you until yesterday. I had been hoping that you would come to your senses before drastic measures became necessary.”

“Is it so very difficult for you to believe that I regard a life without you as sensible?”

“When such a life includes living in the worst sort of slum, yes.”

“It isn't the ‘worst’ sort of slum,” she said peevishly.

“Victoria, a man was stabbed to death in front of your building two nights ago!” he shouted.

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he hissed. “And if you think I am going to stand by idly until the inevitable happens and you become the victim—”

“I beg your pardon, but it appears I am a victim. Of kidnapping at the very least.”

He looked down at her with an irritated expression. “And at the very most?”

“Rape,” she shot back.

He leaned back smugly. “It wouldn't be rape.”

“I could never want you again after what you've done to me.”

“You'll always want me. You might not want to want me just now, but you do.”

Silence reigned for a moment. Finally, with eyes like slits, Victoria said, “You're no better than Eversleigh.”

Robert's hand closed around her shoulder with stunning force. “Don't you ever compare him to me.”

“And why not? I think the comparison is most apt. You have both abused me, both used force—”

“I have not used force,” he said between gritted teeth.

“I haven't seen you open the door to this carriage and give me the option of leaving.” She crossed her arms in an attempt to appear resolute, but it was hard to maintain one's dignity while on the floor.

“Victoria,” Robert said in an excruciatingly patient tone of voice, “we are in the middle of the Canterbury Road. It is dark, and there is no one around. I can assure you that you do not want to exit the carriage at this time.”

“Goddamn you! Do you have any idea how much I hate it when you presume to tell me what I want?”

Robert gripped the seat of the carriage bench so hard his fingers shook. “Do you want me to stop the carriage?”

“You wouldn't do it even if I asked.”

With a movement that spoke of barely leashed violence, Robert slammed his fist against the front wall three times. Within seconds the carriage came to a halt. “There!” he said. “Get out.”

Victoria's mouth opened and closed like a dying fish.

“Would you like me to help you down?” Robert kicked open the door and jumped out. He held out his hand for her. “I live to be of service to you.”

“Robert, I don't think—”

“You haven't been thinking all week,” he snapped.

If she could have reached him, she would have slapped him.

MacDougal's face appeared next to Robert's. “Is aught amiss, my lord? Miss?”

“Miss Lyndon has expressed an interest in departing our company,” Robert said.

“Here?”

“Not here, you idiot,” Victoria hissed. And then, because MacDougal looked so affronted, she was compelled to say, “I meant Robert, not you.”

“Are you getting down or not?” Robert demanded.

“You know I'm not. What I would like is for you to return me to my home in London, not abandon me here in—” Victoria turned to MacDougal. “Where the devil are we, anyway?”

“Near to Faversham, I would think.”

“Good,” Robert said. “We'll stop there for the night. We have made excellent time, but there is no sense exhausting ourselves by pushing on to Ramsgate.”

“Right.” MacDougal paused, then said to Victoria, “Wouldn't you be more comfortable on the bench, Miss Lyndon?”

Victoria smiled acidly. “Oh, no, I'm quite comfortable here on the floor, Mr. MacDougal. I prefer to feel every rut and bump in the road intimately.”

“What she prefers is to be a martyr,” Robert muttered under his breath.

“I heard that!”

Robert ignored her and gave some instructions to MacDougal, who disappeared from view. He then climbed back into the carriage, shut the door, and ignored Victoria, who was still fuming on the floor. Finally she said, “What is in Ramsgate?”

“I own a cottage on the shore. I thought we might enjoy a bit of privacy there.”

She snorted. “Privacy? Now there is a frightening thought.”

“Victoria, you are beginning to try my patience.”

“You are not the one who has been abducted, my lord.”

He cocked a brow. “Do you know, Victoria, but I am beginning to think that you are enjoying yourself.”