“That means you mustn't raise your voice.”
As if anyone other than nasty Neville ever gave her cause to raise her voice. “Yes, my lady.”
Victoria watched as Lady Hollingwood stalked off again, making sure that she was well out of sight. Then, as she resumed her search for Neville, she took great pleasure in saying, “I'm going to find you, you bloody little beast.”
She tramped into the west garden, each step she took punctuated by a mild mental curse. Oh, if her father could hear her thoughts! Victoria sighed. She hadn't seen her family in seven long years. She still corresponded with Eleanor, but she'd never returned to Kent. She couldn't forgive her father for tying her up that fateful evening, and she couldn't bear to face him, knowing that he had been correct in his judgment of Robert.
But governessing had not proven easy, and Victoria had held three positions in the past seven years. It seemed most ladies didn't like their children's governesses to have silky sable hair and dark blue eyes. And they certainly didn't like them to be quite so young and pretty. Victoria had become quite adept at fending off unwanted attentions.
She shook her head as she scanned the lawn for Neville. In that measure, at least, Robert had not proven any different from the other young men of his class. All they seemed to be interested in was luring young women to their beds. Especially young women whose families were not powerful enough to demand marriage after the act.
The Hollingwood position had seemed a godsend. Lord Hollingwood wasn't interested in anything besides his horses and hounds, and there were no older sons to plague her on their visits home from university.
Unfortunately there was Neville, who had been a little terror from the first day. Spoiled and ill-mannered, he practically ruled the household, and Lady Hollingwood had forbidden Victoria from disciplining him.
Victoria sighed as she walked across the lawn, praying that Neville hadn't gone into the hedgerow maze. “Neville!” she called out, trying to keep her voice down.
“In he-ere, Lyndon!”
The little wretch always refused to call her Miss Lyndon. Victoria had brought the matter up with Lady Hollingwood, who had only laughed it off, remarking on how original and clever her son was.
“Neville?” Please, not the maze. She'd never learned her way around it.
“In the maze, you clodhead!”
Victoria groaned and muttered, “I hate being a governess.” And it was true. She hated it. Hated every second of this beastly subservience, hated having to pander to spoiled children. But most of all she hated the fact that she'd been forced into this. She'd never been given a choice. Not really. She hadn't believed for one moment that Robert's father wasn't going to spread vicious gossip about her. He wanted her out of the district.
It was governessing or ruin.
Victoria entered the maze. “Neville?” she asked cautiously.
“Over here!”
It sounded like he was to her left. Victoria took a few steps in that direction.
“Oh, Lyndon!” he shrieked. “I bet you can't find me!”
Victoria ran around a corner, and then another, and another. “Neville!” she yelled. “Where are you?”
“Here I am, Lyndon.”
Victoria nearly screamed with frustration. It sounded as if he was straight through the hedge to her right. The only problem was that she had no idea how to get to the other side. Maybe if she went around that corner…
She made a few more twists and turns, wretchedly aware that she was completely lost. Suddenly she heard an awful sound.
Neville's laugh. “I'm free, Lyndon!”
“Neville!” she yelled, her voice growing shrill. “Neville!”
“I'm going home now,” he taunted. “Have a nice night, Lyndon!”
Victoria sank down onto the ground. When she made her way free, she was going to kill that boy. And she was going to enjoy doing it.
Eight hours later Victoria still hadn't found the exit. After two hours of searching, she finally sat down and cried. Tears of frustration were becoming increasingly common these days. She couldn't imagine that the household had failed to note her absence, but she rather doubted that Neville had confessed to leading her into the maze. The wretched boy had probably sent whomever was looking for her in the exact opposite direction. Victoria would be lucky if she only had to spend one night outside.
She sighed and looked up at the sky. It was probably nine in the evening, but twilight still hung in the air. Thank goodness Neville hadn't thought to play his prank in the winter, when the days were short.
The tinkle of music floated through the air, a sign that the festivities of the house party had begun, obviously without a thought to the missing governess.
“I hate being a governess,” Victoria muttered for about the twelfth time that day. It didn't make her feel better to say it out loud, but she did so anyway.
And then finally, after she had begun to fantasize about the scandal that would ensue once the Hollingwoods found her dead body in the maze three months hence, Victoria heard voices.
Oh, thank the heavens. She was saved. Victoria jumped to her feet and opened her mouth to shout out a greeting.
Then she heard what the voices were saying.
She shut her mouth. Oh, blast.
“Come here, you big stallion,” a female voice giggled.
“You're always so original, Helene.” The male voice epitomized civilized boredom, but he did sound slightly interested in what the lady had to offer.
Oh, this was just her luck. Eight hours in the maze and the first people to join her were a pair of trysting lovers. Victoria rather doubted they would be pleased to learn of her presence. Knowing the nobility, they would probably find some way to make this awkward situation look as if it were her fault.