“I don't want to.”
Victoria's head snapped up. “What did you say?”
He shrugged a shoulder and assessed her rudely. “I find myself rather interested in what I missed seven years ago. You're quite beautiful.”
Her mouth fell open. “As if I would—”
“I wouldn't be so hasty to refuse me,” he interrupted. “Of course you couldn't possibly hope for marriage, but there is no longer any threat of my being disinherited. I, my dear, am appallingly wealthy.”
His father had called her “my dear.” And he'd used that same condescending tone. Victoria swallowed down the urge to spit in his face and said, “How perfectly lovely for you.”
He continued as if he hadn't heard her. “I must say, I never thought I'd meet you again under these circumstances.”
“I had hoped I never would,” she retorted.
“The governess,” he said, using an oddly thoughtful tone of voice. “What an interesting and precarious position she holds in a household. Neither family nor servant.”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I rather doubt you're as well acquainted as I with the ‘interesting position’ of the governess.”
He cocked his head in a deceptively friendly manner. “How long have you been doing this? I find it rather amusing that England's elite is trusting you with their children's moral education.”
“I could certainly do a better job of it than you.”
He let out an abrupt laugh. “But then I never pretended to be good and true. I never pretended to be a young man's dreams.” He leaned forward and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was chillingly gentle. “I never pretended to be an angel.”
“Yes,” she choked out. “You did. You were everything I dreamed of, everything I'd ever wanted. And all you wanted—”
His eyes glittered dangerously as he pulled her closer. “What did I want, Victoria?”
She twisted her head to the side, refusing to answer him.
He let her go abruptly. “I suppose there is no point in reiterating all my foolish hopes.”
She laughed hollowly. “Your hopes? Well, I'm so sorry you weren't able to get me into bed with you. That must have certainly broken your heart.”
He leaned forward, his eyes menacing. “It's never too late to dream, is it?”
“That is one dream you will never see fulfilled.”
He shrugged, his expression telling her that he didn't much care one way or the other.
“God, I meant so little to you, didn't I?” she whispered.
Robert stared at her, unable to believe her words. She had meant everything to him. Everything. He'd promised her the moon, and he'd meant it. He had loved her so much—he would have found a way to pull that sphere from the sky and hand it to her on a platter if she'd only demanded it.
But she'd never really loved him. She'd only loved the idea of marrying a wealthy earl. “Torie,” he said, preparing to give her a blistering setdown.
She never gave him the opportunity. “Don't call me Torie!” she burst out.
“I seem to recall that I was the one to give you that particular nickname,” he reminded her.
“You gave up all rights to it seven years ago.”
“I gave up all rights?” he said, barely able to believe that she was trying to pin blame on him. Memories of that pathetic night flashed through his mind. He'd waited for her in the chilly night air. Waited for more than an hour, every fiber of his being alive with love, desire, and hope. And she'd simply gone to sleep. Gone to sleep without a single care for him.
Fury exploded in his body, and he pulled her closer, his hands biting into her flesh. “You seem to have conveniently forgotten the facts of our relationship, Torie.”
She yanked her arm free with a strength that surprised him. “I said don't call me that. I am not her anymore. I haven't been for years.”
His lips twisted humorlessly. “And who are you, then?”
She stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally she said, “I am Miss Lyndon. Or these days I am more commonly just Lyndon. I am not even Victoria anymore.”
His eyes swept over her face, not quite recognizing what he saw there. There was a certain strength to her that she hadn't possessed at seventeen. And her eyes held a steeliness that unnerved him. “You're right,” he said with a purposefully bored shrug. “You're not Torie. You probably never were.”
Victoria pursed her lips and refused to reply.
“And for that I thank you,” he continued in a mockingly grand voice.
Her eyes flew to his face.
He raised his hand as if making a toast. “To Victoria Mary Lyndon! For providing me with an education no man should lack.”
Victoria's stomach grew queasy and she took a step back. “Don't do this, Robert.”
“For showing me that women are useless and vain—”
“Robert, no.”
“—that they serve one purpose only.” He drew his thumb across her lips with agonizing slowness. “Although I must say they perform that duty exceedingly well.”
Victoria stood stock still, trying so hard not to let her heart leap at the feel of his fingers on her lips.
“But most of all, Miss Victoria Lyndon, I must thank you for showing me the true measure of the heart. The heart, you see, isn't what I thought it was.”
“Robert, I don't want to hear this.”
He moved with startling speed, grabbing her brutally by the shoulders and pinning her against the hedge. “But you will hear this, Victoria. You will hear everything I have to say to you.”