Everything and the Moon (22 page)

“Nonsense, I can call him whatever I wish.” She turned to Robert and fixed a stern expression on her face. “Have you any idea how upset your father is with you?”

Robert sat back down once the two women had taken their seats. “Aunt Brightbill, my father has been angry with me for seven years”.

“You didn't invite him to your wedding!”

“I didn't invite anyone to my wedding”.

“That is entirely beside the point.”

Harriet turned to Victoria and said behind the back of her hand, “My mother does love a good cause”.

“And what cause is this?”

“Righteous indignation”, Harriet replied. “She loves nothing better”.

Victoria glanced over at her new husband, who was enduring his aunt's scolding with remarkable patience. She turned back to Harriet.

“How long do you think he'll be able to withstand it?”

Harriet furrowed her brow as she pondered that question. “I would have to say that he must be nearing his limit.”

As if on cue Robert's hand came crashing down on the table, rattling all the dishes.

“Enough!” he boomed.

In the doorway to the kitchen, the maid hovered in terror. “You don't want any more chocolate?” she whispered.

“No!” Victoria cut in, jumping to her feet. “He wasn't speaking to you, Joanna. We would love some chocolate, wouldn't we, Harriet?”

Harriet nodded enthusiastically. “I'm certain my mother would as well. Isn't that so, Mother?”

Mrs. Brightbill twisted in her seat. “What are you blithering on about, Harriet?”

“Chocolate”, her daughter replied patiently.“Wouldn't you like some?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Brightbill said with a sniff.

“No sensible women would refuse chocolate.”

“My mother has always prided herself on being very sensible”, Harriet said to Victoria.

“Of course”, Victoria said loudly. “Your mother is all that is sensible and true.”

Mrs. Brightbill beamed. “I shall forgive you, Robert”, she said with a great huff, “for neglecting to include Harriet and me in your nuptials, but only because you have finally exhibited the sense that God gave and chosen the lovely Miss Lyndon as your wife”.

“The lovely Miss Lyndon”, Robert said firmly, “is now Lady Macclesfield”.

“Of course,” Mrs. Brightbill replied. “Now then, as I was saying, it is imperative that you introduce her to society as soon as you can”.

Victoria felt her stomach grow queasy. It was one thing to win over the hearts of Robert's servants. His peers were another matter altogether.

“The season is nearing its end”, Robert said. “I see no reason why we cannot wait until next year”.

“Next year!” Mrs. Brightbill screeched—and she knew how to screech better than most. “Are you mad?”

“I shall introduce Victoria to my closer friends at dinner parties and the like, but I see no reason to subject her to an odious
ton
ball when all we really want is a bit of privacy”.

Victoria found herself fervently hoping that Robert won his point.

“Nonsense”, Mrs. Brightbill said dismissively. “The entire world knows that you are in London now. To hide her would be to give the impression that you are ashamed of your new wife, that perhaps you
had
to marry her”.

Robert bristled with anger. “You know that is not the case”

“Yes, of course. I know it, and Harriet knows it, but we are only two of many”.

“Perhaps”, Robert said smoothly, “but I have always held your ability to disseminate information in the highest of esteem”.

“He means she talks a lot”, Harriet said to Victoria.

“I know what he means”, Victoria shot back, and then was immediately ashamed of herself because she'd just called her new aunt a gossip.

Harriet caught Victoria's embarrassed expression and said, “Oh, don't worry yourself over that. Even Mother knows she's the worst sort of gossip”.

Victoria bit back a smile and turned to the sparring match that was taking place on the other side of the table.

“Robert”, Mrs. Brightbill was saying, one hand splayed dramatically over her heart, “even
I
am not that efficient. You will have to introduce your new wife to society before the season is out. This is not my opinion. It is fact”.

Robert sighed and looked over at Victoria. She tried very hard to keep the terror out of her eyes, and she feared that she must have succeeded, for he let out another sigh—this one infinitely more weary—and said, “Very well, Aunt Brightbill. We will make one appearance. But just one, mind you. We are still newly wed”.

“This is so romantic”, Harriet whispered, fanning herself with her hand.

Victoria grabbed her cup of chocolate and lifted it to her mouth in an attempt to hide the fact that she absolutely could not manage to pull her lips into a smile. But this action only served to show how badly her hands were shaking, so she set the cup back down and looked at her lap.

“Naturally”, Mrs. Brightbill said, “I shall have to take Victoria shopping for a new wardrobe. She will need the guidance of one who is familiar with the ways of society”.

“Mother!” Harriet interjected. “I am certain that Cousin Victoria will be more than able to choose her own wardrobe. After all, she worked for many weeks at Madame Lambert's the most exclusive dressmaker in London”.

“Euf!” Mrs. Brightbill said by way of reply. “Do not remind me. We shall have to do our best to hide that little episode”.

“I am not ashamed of my work”, Victoria said quietly. And she wasn't. Of course this didn't mean she wasn't terrified of Robert's social peers.

“And you shouldn't be,” Mrs. Brightbill said. “There is nothing wrong with a hard day's work. We just needn't speak of it”.

“I do not see how it would be possible to avoid it,” Victoria pointed out. “I assisted a great many ladies at the shop. Madame always liked to have me out in front because my accent is gentle. Someone is bound to recognize me”.

Mrs. Brightbill let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, it will be unavoidable. What am I to do? How to avoid a scandal?”

Robert, who was clearly feeling somewhat henpecked, turned back to his breakfast and ate a bite of his omelet. “I am certain you are up to the task, Aunt Brightbill”.

Harriet cleared her throat and said, “Surely everyone will understand once they realize what a romantic past Robert and Victoria have”. She sighed. “Young lovers, separated by a cruel father—even the best of my French novels cannot compare”.

“I do not intend to drag the marquess's name through the gutter”, Mrs. Brightbill said.

“Better his name than Victoria's,” Robert put in caustically. “He is more to blame for our separation than we are”.

“We are all equally to blame”, Victoria said firmly. “As is my own father”.

“It matters not who is to blame”, Mrs. Brightbill stated. “I am only interested in minimizing the damage. I do think that Harriet has the right idea of it”.

Harriet beamed.

“Just inform me where I have to be and when”, Robert said with a bored expression.

“You can be sure I shall also tell you what to say”, Mrs. Brightbill returned. “As for particulars, I believe that the Lindworthy bash tomorrow evening shall suit our purposes”.

“Tomorrow?” Victoria mouthed, her stomach suddenly feeling so fluttery that she couldn't manage to make her voice work properly.

“Yes,” Mrs. Brightbill replied. “Everyone will be there. Including my dear, dear, dear Basil.”

Victoria blinked. “Who is Basil?”

“My brother,” Harriet replied. “He's not often in London.”

“The more family the better,” Mrs. Brightbill said briskly. “Just in case Victoria is not received favorably and we have to close ranks.”

“No one would dare cut Victoria,” Robert growled. “Not unless they want to answer to me.”

Harriet gaped at her cousin's uncharacteristic ferocity. “Victoria,” she said, “I think he really does love you.”

“Of course I love her,” Robert snapped. “Do you think I would have gone to the trouble of abducting her if I didn't?”

Victoria felt something warming in her chest—something that felt suspiciously like love.

“And no one would want to cross my dear, dear, dear Basil, either,” Mrs. Brightbill added.

Victoria turned to her husband with a secret smile and whispered, “I'm afraid Basil is closer to her heart than you, darling. He gets three ‘dears,' whereas you only received two.”

“A fact for which I thank my maker every day of my life,” Robert muttered.

Mrs. Brightbill's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I don't know what you two are saying, but I vow I do not care. Unlike some of those present, I am able to keep my thoughts focused on the goals at hand.”

“What
are
you talking about?” Robert said.

“Shopping. Victoria will have to come with me this very morning if she is to have a proper gown for tomorrow evening. Madame is likely to have a fit at such short notice, but there is nothing to do about it.”

“Aunt Brightbill,” Robert said, eyeing her over his cup of coffee, “you might want to
ask
Victoria if she is free.”

Victoria stifled a smile at the way he stood up for her. Robert showed her in so many ways how much he loved her. From his passionate kisses to his unflagging support and respect, he couldn't have made his love more clear if he shouted it out. Which he did, actually. The thought made her grin.

“What is so funny?” Robert asked, looking a trifle suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing,” Victoria said quickly, realizing in a flash that she really did love this man. She wasn't sure how to tell him, but she knew it was true. Whatever he had been as a boy, he was ten times more as a man, and she couldn't imagine life without him.

“Victoria?” Robert prodded, breaking into her thoughts.

“Oh, yes.” She flushed with embarrassment at having let her mind wander off. “Of course I shall go shopping with Mrs. Brightbill. I always have time for my new favorite aunt.”

Mrs. Brightbill sniffled back a sentimental tear. “Oh, my darling girl, I should be so honored if you would call me Aunt Brightbill, just as my dear, dear Robert does.”

Her dear, dear Robert just then looked as if he had had just about enough.

Victoria placed her hand atop the older lady's. “I should be honored.”

“See?” Harriet chirped. “I knew we would be family. Didn't I say so?”

M
rs. Brightbill turned out to be almost frighteningly organized, and Victoria found herself bustled from shop to shop with the precision of a master. It was easy to see where Robert had gotten his ability to devise a plan and then single-mindedly execute it. Aunt Brightbill was a woman on a mission, and nothing was going to get in her way.

Normally they wouldn't have been able to buy a suitable gown on such short notice, but this time Victoria's working class past worked to her advantage. The staff at Madame Lambert's was thrilled to see her again, and they worked around the clock to make certain that her dress would be beyond compare.

Victoria suffered through the preparations somewhat absentmindedly. Now that she had finally decided she truly loved Robert, she was at a complete loss as to how to tell him. It should have been easy—she knew he loved her and would be delighted no matter how she said it. But she wanted it to be perfect, and it was difficult to do anything perfectly when four seamstresses were poking pins in one's side. And it was even more difficult with Aunt Brightbill snapping off orders like an army general.

There was, of course, the night, but Victoria didn't want to tell him while in the heat of passion. She wanted it to be clear that her love for him was based on more than desire.

And so, by the time she was preparing for the ball, she still hadn't told him. She was sitting at her vanity table, pondering this while a maid dressed her hair. A knock sounded at the door, and Robert entered without waiting for a reply.

“Good evening, darling,” he said, leaning down to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

“Not the hair!” Victoria and her maid yelled in unison.

Robert stopped his descent about an inch above her head. “I knew there was a reason why I agreed to attend only one function. I do so like to muss your hair.”

Victoria smiled, about ready to blurt out her love for him then and there, but not wanting to do it in front of the maid.

“You look exceedingly lovely this evening,” he said, sprawling on a nearby chair. “The dress is most becoming. You should wear that color more frequently.” He blinked distractedly. “What is it called?”

“Mauve.”

“Yes, of course. Mauve. I cannot fathom why women must devise so many silly names for colors. Pink would have done just as well.”

“One might suppose that we need something with which to occupy our time while you men are off running the world.”

He smiled. “I thought you might need a little something to go with your new dress. I wasn't certain what would match with mauve”—he pulled a jeweler's box from behind his back and snapped it open—“but I have been told that diamonds go with everything.”

Victoria gasped.

Her maid gasped even louder.

Robert actually flushed, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Oh, Robert!” Victoria said, almost afraid to reach out and touch the glittering necklace and matching earrings. “I have never seen anything more lovely.”

“I have,” he murmured, touching her cheek.

The maid, who was French and very discreet, quietly left the room.

“They are much too precious,” Victoria said, but she was reaching out to touch them with an air of wonder in her eyes.

Robert picked the necklace up and made to put it around her neck. “May I?” At her nod he moved behind her. “What else, pray tell, should I spend my money on?”

“I-I don't know,” Victoria stammered, really liking the feel of the gemstones on her breast-bone despite her protestations. “I'm sure there must be something more worthy.”

Robert held out the earnings for her to put on. “You are my wife, Victoria. I like to buy you presents. Expect many more in the future.”

“But I have nothing for you.”

He leaned over her hand and kissed it gallantly. “Your presence in my life is enough,” he murmured. “Although…”

“Although?” she prompted. She did so want to give him what he needed.

“A child might be nice,” he said with a sheepish smile. “If you could give me one of those…”

Victoria blushed. “At the rate we've been going, I don't foresee any problem with that.”

“Good. Now then, if you could further endeavor to make her a girl who looks just like you—”

“I have no control over that,” she said, laughing. Then her face sobered. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she loved him. Every muscle in her body was poised to throw herself in his arms and say “I love you” over and over and over. But she didn't want him to think that she confused love and gratitude, so she decided to wait until later that night. She would light a scented candle in their room, wait until the mood was just right…

“Why do you suddenly look so dreamy?” Robert asked, touching her chin.

Victoria smiled secretively. “Oh, no reason. Just a little surprise I have for this evening.”

“Really?” His eyes lit with anticipation. “During the ball or afterward?”

“After.”

His gaze grew heavy lidded and sensual. “I can hardly wait.”

 

An hour later they were poised to enter the Lindworthy mansion. Mrs. Brightbill and Harriet were standing directly behind the newlyweds; they had decided that it would be easier for all four of them to take one carriage.

Robert looked down at his new wife with concern in his eyes. “Are you still nervous?”

She glanced up at him in surprise. “How did you know I was nervous?”

“Yesterday when Aunt Brightbill declared her intention to bring you out immediately, I thought you might lose your breakfast.”

She smiled weakly. “Was I that transparent?”

“Only to me, darling.” He brought her hand to his lips and left a lingering kiss on her knuckles. “But you haven't answered my question. Are you still nervous?”

Victoria gave her head a tiny shake. “I wouldn't be alive if I weren't a little bit nervous, but no, I am not afraid.”

Robert was so full of pride for her in that moment that he wondered if his family could see his chest expand with it. “Why the change of heart?”

She looked deeply into his eyes. “You.”

It was all he could do not to pull her to him in a crushing embrace. God, how he loved this woman. It felt as if he had loved her since before he was born. “What do you mean?” he asked, knowing that his heart was in his eyes and not even caring.

She swallowed, then softly said, “Just knowing that you're with me, that I have you by my side. You would never let anything bad happen to me.”

His grip on her hand grew fervent. “I would protect you with my life, Torie. Surely you know that.”

“And I you,” she returned softly. “But such talk is silly. I am certain we are destined to live happy, uneventful lives.”

He stared at her with single-minded intensity. “Nonetheless, I would—”

“
The Earl and Countess of Macclesfield!
”

Robert and Victoria jumped apart as the Lindworthys' butler boomed their names, but the damage had already been done. It would be talked about for years to come—society's first glimpse of the new couple was of them practically devouring each other with their eyes. A hush fell over the crowd, and then some old biddy cackled, “Well, that's a love match if ever I saw one!”

Robert cracked a smile as he held his arm out to his wife. “I suppose there are worse reputations we could acquire.”

Her answer was a barely stifled grin.

And then the evening began.

 

Three hours later Robert was not feeling so cheerful. Why? Because he'd had to spend the last three hours watching the
ton
watching his wife. And they seemed to be watching her with great affection. Especially the men.

If one more damned Corinthian came along and kissed her hand… Robert growled to himself, trying to stifle the urge to yank at his cravat. It was utter hell to stand back and smile serenely as the duke of Ashbourne—who was universally acknowledged as society's reigning rake—murmured his greetings to Victoria.

He felt his aunt's restraining hand on his arm. “Do try to contain yourself,” she whispered.

“Will you look at the way he's looking at her?” he hissed. “I have half a mind to—”

“
Half
a mind is exactly right,” Mrs. Brightbill returned. “Victoria is behaving beautifully, and Ashbourne has never been the sort to dally with married women. Besides, he's dangling after some American. Now stop complaining and smile.”

“I am smiling,” he said through clenched teeth.

“If that's a smile, I shudder to see you laugh.”

Robert offered her a sickly sweet grin.

“Do stop worrying,” Mrs. Brightbill said, patting his arm. “Here comes dear Basil. I shall have him take Victoria out for a dance.”

“
I
shall dance with her.”

“No, you won't. You have already danced with her three times. Tongues are wagging.”

Before Robert could reply, Basil appeared at their sides. “Hullo Mother, Cuz,” he said.

Robert only nodded at him, his eyes never leaving Victoria.

“Enjoying your first social engagement with your lovely wife?” Basil asked.

Robert eyed his cousin, conveniently forgetting that Basil had always been one of his favorite relations. “Shut up, Brightbill,” he bit out. “You know damned well I'm having a hellish time.”

“Ah yes, the curse of a beautiful wife. Isn't it curious how a maid is protected from lechers by her innocence, but a married woman—who has vowed before God to remain faithful to one man only—is considered fair game?”

“Just what are you getting at, Brightbill?”Robert looked at his hands, then at his cousin's throat, assessing how well the former would fit around the latter.

“Nothing,” Basil said with a mild shrug. “Merely that your plan to retire from society for a time is probably a wise one. Have you noticed the way men are staring at her?”

“Basil!” Mrs. Brightbill exclaimed. “Stop teasing your cousin.” She turned to Robert. “He is only joking with you.”

Robert looked about ready to explode. It was a testament to Mrs. Brightbill's courage that she didn't remove her hand from his arm.

Basil merely smiled, obviously thrilled at having so successfully baited Robert. “If you'll excuse me, I must pay my respects to my favorite cousin.”

“I thought I was your favorite cousin,” Robert said sarcastically.

“As if you could compare,” Basil said with a slow, almost regretful shake of his head.

“Basil!” Victoria said warmly when he reached her side. “How nice to see you again this evening.”

Robert gave up all pretense of normal, sane behavior and crossed to her side in two steps.

“Robert!” she said, and he rather thought her voice was twice as warm as it had been with Basil. He grinned stupidly.

“I was just enjoying your wife's company,” Basil said.

“Contrive not to enjoy it so much,” Robert barked.

Victoria's mouth fell open. “Why, Robert, are you jealous?”

“Not at all,” he lied.

“Don't you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” he snapped. “I don't trust
him
.”

“Me?” Basil said with an amazingly straight face.

“I don't trust any of them,” Robert growled.

Harriet, who had been standing silently by Victoria's side, nudged her and said, “See, I told you he loves you.”

“Enough already!” Robert said. “She knows. Trust me.”

“We all love her,” Basil said, grinning.

Robert groaned. “I am plagued with relations.”

Victoria touched his arm and smiled. “And I am plagued with fatigue. Would you mind if I darted off to the retiring room for a moment?”

His eyes immediately clouded with concern. “Are you ill? If you are, I'll call for—”

“I'm not ill,” Victoria said under her breath. “I just need to go to the retiring room. I was trying to be polite.”

“Oh,” Robert replied. “I'll escort you.”

“No, don't be silly. It's just down the hall. I'll be back before you notice I'm gone.”

“I always notice when you're gone.”

Victoria reached out to touch his cheek. “You say the sweetest things.”

“Stop touching him!” Mrs. Brightbill gasped. “People will say you're in love!”

“What the devil would be wrong with that?” Robert demanded, turning on her.

“In principle, nothing. But love is not at all fashionable.”

Basil chuckled. “I fear you're trapped in a very bad farce, Cuz.”

“With no escape in sight,” Harriet quipped.

Victoria took advantage of this exchange to slip away. “If you'll all excuse me,” she murmured. She scooted along the perimeter of the ballroom until she reached the double doors leading to the hall. Mrs. Brightbill had pointed out the washroom to her earlier that evening, and Victoria found it again with ease.

The ladies' retiring room was actually in two parts. Victoria slipped through the mirrored antechamber and entered the actual washroom, locking the door behind her. She heard someone else enter the antechamber as she did her business, and hurried up, assuming that the other lady would need to relieve herself as well. Victoria quickly smoothed down her skirts and unlocked the door, a society smile pasted on her face.

Her smile lasted less than a second.

“Good evening, Lady Macclesfield.”

“Lord Eversleigh!” she gasped. The man who had attacked her at the Hollingwoods' house party. Victoria suddenly found herself fighting the urge to retch. Then she redirected her efforts, deciding that if she was going to empty her stomach, she might as well aim for his feet.

“You remember my name,” he murmured. “I'm honored.”

“What are you doing here? This room is for ladies.”

He shrugged. “Any lady who attempts to enter will find only a locked door. Lucky for them that the Lindworthys set up another retiring room on the other side of the house.”