Chapter 1
Kent, England
June, 1807
Robert Kemble, Earl of Macclesfield, had never been given
to flights of fancy, but when he saw the girl by the lake,
he fell instantly in love.
It wasn't her beauty. With her black hair and pert nose she
was certainly attractive, but he'd seen women far more
beautiful in the ballrooms of London.
It wasn't her intelligence. He had no reason to believe
that she was stupid, but as he hadn't shared two words with
her, he couldn't vouch for her intellect either.
It certainly wasn't her grace. His first glimpse of the
girl was of her flailing her arms as she slipped off of a
wet rock. She landed on another rock with a loud thump,
followed by an equally loud, "Oh, bother," as she stood and
rubbed her sore backside.
He couldn't put his finger on it. All he knew was that she
was perfect.
He moved forward, keeping himself hidden in the trees. She
was in the process of stepping from one stone to another,
and any fool could see that she was going to slip, because
the stone she was stepping onto was slick with moss, and --
Splash!
"Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear!"
Robert couldn't help but grin as she ignominiously hauled
herself to the shore. The hem of her dress was soaked, and
her slippers must be ruined.
He leaned forward, noticing that her slippers were sitting
in the sun, presumably where she'd left them before hopping
from stone to stone. Smart girl, he thought approvingly.
She sat down on the grassy bank and began to wring out her
dress, offering Robert a delicious view of her bare calves.
Where had she stashed her stockings, he wondered.
And then, as if guided by that sixth sense only females
seemed to possess, she jerked her head up sharply and
looked about. "Robert?" she called out. "Robert! I know
you're there."
Robert froze, certain that he'd never met her before,
certain they'd never been introduced, and even more certain
that even if they had, she'd not be calling him by his
given name.
"Robert," she said, fairly yelling at him now. "I insist
you show yourself."
He stepped forward. "As you wish, my lady." He said this
with a courtly bow.
Her mouth fell open. She blinked. Then she scrambled to her
feet. Then she realized that she was still holding the hem
of her dress in her hands, baring her knees for all the
world to see. She dropped the dress. "Who the devil are
you?"
He offered her a lopsided smile. "Robert."
"You are not Robert," she spluttered.
"I beg to differ with you," he said, not even trying to
contain his amusement.
"Well, you're not my Robert."
An unexpected surge of jealousy raced through him. "And who
is your Robert?"
"He's ... he's ... I fail to see how that is your concern."
Robert cocked his head, pretending to give the matter ample
thought. "One might be able to broach the argument that
since this is my land and your skirts are soaked with water
from my pond, then it is indeed my concern."
The color drained from her face. "Oh, dear Lord, you're not
his lordship."
He grinned. "I'm his lordship."
"But-but his lordship is supposed to be old!" She looked
most perplexed and rather distraught.
"Ah. I see our problem. I'm his lordship's son. The other
his lordship. And you are?"
"In big trouble," she blurted out.
He took her hand, which she had not held out to him, and
bowed over it. "I am extremely honored to make your
acquaintance, Miss Trouble."
She giggled. "My name is Miss Big Trouble, if you please."
If Robert had had any doubts about the perfection of the
woman standing before him, they melted away under the force
of her smile and obvious sense of humor. "Very well," he
said. "Miss Big Trouble. I shouldn't want to deprive you of
your full name." He tugged on her hand and led her back to
the bank. "Come, let's sit awhile."
She appeared hesitant. "My mother, bless her soul, passed
on five years ago, but I have a feeling she would have told
me that this is a most inadvisable idea. You look as if you
might be something of a rake."
This caught his attention. "And have you met many rakes?"
"No, of course not. But if I were to meet one, I should
think he would look rather like you."
"And why is that?"
She quirked her lips in a rather knowing expression. "Come
now, are you looking for compliments, my lord?"
"Absolutely." He smiled over at her, sat down, and patted
the ground next to him. "My reputation is not so very
black. More of a charcoal gray."
She giggled again, causing Robert to feel as if he must be
King of the Universe.
"My name is actually Miss Lyndon," she said, sitting beside
him.
He leaned back, resting upon his elbows. "Miss Big Trouble
Lyndon, I presume?"
"My father certainly thinks so," she replied pertly. Then
her face fell. "I really should go. If he caught me here
with you."
"Nonsense," Robert said, suddenly desperate to keep her
there beside him. "There is no one about."
She sat back, her manner still somewhat hesitant. After a
long pause, she finally said, "Is your name truly Robert?"
"Truly."
"I imagine the son of a marquess would have a long list of
names."
"I'm afraid so."
She sighed dramatically. "Poor me. I have but two."
"And they are?"
She looked sideways at him, the expression in her eyes most
definitely flirtatious. Robert's heart soared.
"Victoria Mary," she replied. "And you? If I may be so bold
to ask."
"You may. Robert Phillip Arthur Kemble."
"You forgot your title," she reminded him.
He leaned toward her and whispered, "I didn't want to scare
you."
"Oh, I'm not that easily frightened."
"Very well. Earl of Macclesfield, but it's only a courtesy
title."
"Ah, yes," Victoria said. "You don't get a real title until
your father dies. Aristocrats are an odd lot."
He raised his brows. "Such sentiments could probably still
get one arrested in some parts of the country."
"Oh, but not here," she said with a sly smile. "Not on your
land, by your lake."
"No," he said, staring into her blue eyes and finding
heaven. "Certainly not here."
Victoria appeared not to know how to react to the pure
hunger in his gaze, and she looked away. There was a full
minute of silence before Robert spoke again.
"Lyndon. Hmmm." He cocked his head in thought. "Why is that
name so familiar?"
"Papa is the new vicar of Bellfield," Victoria
replied. "Perhaps your father mentioned him."
Robert's father, the Marquess of Castleford, was obsessed
with his title and his lands and frequently lectured his
son on the importance of both. Robert had no doubt that the
new vicar's arrival had been mentioned as a part of one of
his daily sermons. He also had no doubt that he hadn't been
listening.
He leaned toward Victoria interestedly. "And do you enjoy
life here in Bellfield?"
"Oh, yes. We were in Leeds before this. It's much lovelier
in the country."
He paused. "Tell me, who is your mysterious Robert?"
She cocked her head. "Are you truly interested?"
"Truly." He covered her small hand with his. "I should like
to know his name, since it appears I may have to do him
bodily harm if he ever again attempts to meet you alone in
the woods."
"Oh, stop," she laughed. "Don't be silly."
Robert lifted her hand to his lips and placed a fervent
kiss on the inside of her wrist. "I'm deadly serious."
Victoria made a feeble attempt to pull her hand back, but
her heart wasn't into it. There was something about the way
this young lord was staring at her, his eyes flashing with
an intensity that scared and excited her. "It was Robert
Beechcombe, my lord."
"And does he have designs on you?" he murmured.
"Robert Beechcombe is eight years old. We were to go
fishing. I suppose he bowed out. He did say that his mother
might have some chores for him to do."
Robert suddenly laughed. "I am beyond relieved, Miss
Lyndon. I detest jealousy. It's a most unpleasant emotion."
"I-I can't imagine what it is you would feel jealous
about," Victoria stammered. "You have made no promises to
me."
"But I intend to."
"And I have made none to you," she said, her tone finally
growing firm.
"A situation I will have to rectify," he said with a sigh.
He lifted her hand again, this time kissing her
knuckles. "For example, I should very much like your
promise that you will never again even so much as look at
another man."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Victoria said,
utterly bewildered.
"I shouldn't like to share you."
"My lord! We have only just met!"
Robert turned to her, the levity leaving his eyes with
astounding swiftness. "I know. I know in my brain that I
only just laid eyes on you ten minutes ago, but my heart
has known you all my life. And my soul even longer."
"I-I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything. Just sit here with me and enjoy the
day."
And so they sat on the grassy bank, staring at the clouds
and the water and each other. They were silent for several
minutes until Robert's eyes focused on something in the
distance, and he suddenly jumped to his feet.
"Don't move," he ordered, a lopsided grin stealing the
sternness from his voice. "Don't move an inch."
"But-"
"Not an inch!" he called over his shoulder, dashing across
the clearing.
"Robert!" Victoria protested, completely forgetting that
she should be calling him "my lord."
"I'm almost done!"
Victoria craned her neck, trying to make out what he was
doing. He'd run off to a spot behind the trees, and all she
could see was that he was bending down. She looked at her
wrist, almost surprised to see that it wasn't burning red
where he had kissed her.
She had felt that kiss throughout her body.
"Here we are." Robert emerged from the forest and swept
into a courtly bow, a small bouquet of 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," Victoria said, her body shaking 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 here with you --"
"All they 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 Lyndon 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
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 dinner. 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, and 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 --
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 two 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."
Robert. She sighed. He had such a lovely laugh.
"More in?" Victoria looked up. "I'm sorry. Were you
speaking to me?"
"I was saying," Eleanor said with a decided lack of
patience, "that I tasted the stew earlier today. It needs
salt. Would you like me to put more in?"
"No, no. I added a bit a few minutes ago."
"Whatever is wrong with you, Victoria?"
"What do you mean?"
Eleanor exhaled in an exasperated gesture. "You haven't
heard two words of what I've said. I try to tell you
something, and all you do is gaze out the window and sigh."
Victoria leaned forward. "Can you keep a secret?"
Eleanor leaned forward. "You know I can."
"I think I'm in love."
"I don't believe that for one second."
Victoria's mouth fell open in consternation. "I just told
you that I have just undergone the most life-altering
transformation in a woman's life, and you don't believe
me?"
Eleanor scoffed. "Who in Bellfield could you possibly fall
in love with?"
"Can you keep a secret?"
"I already said I could."
"Lord Macclesfield."
"The marquess's son?" Eleanor fairly yelled. "Victoria,
he's an earl."
"Keep your voice down!" Victoria looked over her shoulder
to see if they had caught their father's attention. "And I
am well aware that he is an earl."
"You don't even know him. He was in London when the
marquess had us up to Castleford."
"I met him today."
"And you think you're in love? Victoria, only fools and
poets fall in love at first sight."
"Then I suppose I'm a fool," Victoria said
loftily, "because Lord knows I am no poet."
"You are mad, sister. Utterly mad."
Victoria lifted her chin and looked down her nose at her
sister. "Actually, Eleanor, I don't think I've ever been
saner than I am at this very moment."
It took Victoria hours to fall asleep that night, and when
she did, she dreamed of Robert. He was kissing her. Gently
on the lips and then traveling along the planes of her
cheek. He was whispering her name.
"Victoria"
"Victoria"
She came suddenly awake.
"Victoria"
Was she still dreaming?
"Victoria"
She scrambled out from under her covers and peered out the
window that hung over her bed. He was there.
"Robert?"
He grinned and kissed her nose. "The very one. I cannot
tell you how glad I am that your cottage is only one story
tall."
"Robert, what are you doing here?"
"Falling madly in love?"
"Robert!" She tried to keep herself from laughing, but his
good spirits were infectious. "Really, my lord. What are
you doing here?"
He swept his body into a gallant bow. "I've come to court
you, Miss Lyndon."
"In the middle of the night?"
"I cannot think of a better time."
"Robert, what if you had gone to the wrong room? My
reputation would be in tatters."
He leaned on the windowsill. "You mentioned honeysuckle. I
sniffed about until I found your room."
"You're incorrigible."
He nodded. "That, or perhaps merely in love."
"Robert, you cannot love me." But even as she said the
words, Victoria heard her heart begging him to contradict
her.
"Can't I?" He reached through the window and took her
hand. "Come with me, Torie."
"N-no one calls me Torie," she said, trying to change the
subject.
"I'd like to," he whispered. He moved his hand to her chin
and drew her toward him. "I'm going to kiss you now."
Victoria nodded tremulously, unable to deny herself the
pleasure she'd been dreaming about all evening.
His lips brushed hers in a feather-light caress. Victoria
shivered against the tingles that shot down her spine.
"Are you cold?" he whispered, his words a kiss against her
lips.
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
He drew his head back, cradling her face in his
hands. "You're so beautiful." He pinched a lock of her hair
between his fingers and examined its silkiness. Then he
movea lock of her hair between his fingers and examined its
silkiness. Then he moved his lips back to hers, brushing
them back and forth, allowing her to accustom herself to
his nearness before he moved in closer. He could feel her
trembling, but she made no move.
Robert moved his hand to the back of her head, sinking his
fingers into her thick hair as he darted his tongue out to
trace the outline of her lips. She tasted like mint and
lemons and it was all he could do not to pull her through
the window and make love to her right there on the soft
grass. Never in his twenty-four years had he felt this
particular brand of need. It was desire, yes, but with a
stunningly powerful rush of tenderness.
Reluctantly, he drew away, aware that he wanted far more
than he could ask her for that evening. "Come with me," he
whispered.
Her hand flew to her lips.
He took her hand again and pulled her toward the open
window.
"Robert, it's the middle of the night."
"The best time to be alone."
"But I'm- I'm in my nightdress!" She looked down at herself
as if only then realizing how indecently attired she was.
She grabbed her blankets and tried to wrap them around her
body.
Robert did his best not to laugh. "Put on your cloak," he
gently ordered. "And hurry. We've much to see this
evening."
Victoria wavered for but a second. Going with him was the
height of nonsense, but she knew that if she closed her
window now she would wonder for the rest of her life what
might have happened this full-mooned night.
She rushed off her bed and pulled a long cloak from her
closet. It was far too heavy for the warm weather, but she
couldn't very well traipse around the countryside in her
nightdress. She buttoned the cloak, climbed back onto her
bed, and with Robert's help, crawled through the window.
The night air was crisp and laden with the scent of
honeysuckle, but Victoria only had time to take in one deep
breath before Robert yanked on her hand and took off at a
run. Victoria laughed silently as they raced across the
lawn and into the forest. She wanted to shout her glee to
the treetops but was mindful of her father's open bedroom
window.
In a few minutes they emerged into a small clearing. Robert
stopped short, causing Victoria to stumble into him. He
held her firmly, the length of his body indecently pressed
against hers.
"Torie," he murmured. "Oh, Torie."
And he kissed her again, kissed her as if she were the last
woman left on the earth, the only woman ever born.
Eventually she pulled away, her dark blue eyes
flustered. "This is all so very fast. I'm not sure I
understand it."
"I don't understand it, either," Robert said with a happy
sigh. "But I don't want to question it." He sat down on the
ground, pulling her along with him. Then he laid down on
his back.
Victoria was still crouching, looking at him with a trace
of hesitance.
He patted the ground next to him. "Lie down and look at the
sky. It's spectacular."
Victoria looked at his face, alight with happiness, and
lowered herself onto the ground. The sky seemed enormous
from her vantage point.
"Are the stars not the most amazing thing you've ever
seen?" Robert asked.
Victoria nodded and moved closer to him, finding the heat
of his body oddly compelling.
"They're there for you, you know. I'm convinced that God
put them in the sky just so you could watch them this very
evening."
"Robert, you're so fanciful."
He rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow,
using his free hand to brush a lock of hair from her
face. "I was never fanciful before this day," he said, his
voice serious. "I never wanted to be. But now" He paused,
as if searching for that impossible mix of words that would
precisely convey what was in his heart. "I can't explain
it. It's as if I can tell you anything."
She smiled. "Of course you can."
"No, it's more than that. Nothing I say sounds odd. Even
with my closest friends one cannot be completely
forthcoming. For example --" He suddenly jumped to his
feet. "Don't you find it astounding that humans can balance
on their feet?"
Victoria tried to sit up but her laughter forced her back
down.
"Think about it," he said, rocking from heel to toe. "Look
your feet. They're very small compared to the rest of you."
This time she was able to sit up, and she looked down at
her feet. "I suppose you're right. It is rather amazing."
"I've never said that to anyone else," he said. "I've
thought it all my life, but I never told anyone until now.
I suppose I thought people would think it was stupid."
"I don't think it's stupid."
"No." He crouched next to her and touched her cheek. "No, I
knew you wouldn't."
"I think you're brilliant for having even considered the
idea," she said loyally.
"Torie. Torie. I don't know how to say this, and I
certainly don't understand it, but I think I love you."
Her head whipped around to face him.
"I know I love you," he said with greater force. "Nothing
like this has ever happened to me, and I'll be damned if I
let myself be ruled by caution."
"Robert," she whispered. "I think I love you, too."
He felt the breath leave his body, felt himself overtaken
by such powerful happiness that he couldn't keep still. He
pulled her to her feet. "Tell me again," he said.
"I love you." She was grinning now, caught up in the magic
of the moment.
"Again."
"I love you!" The words were mixed with laughter.
"Oh, Torie, Torie. I'll make you so happy. I promise. I
want to give you everything."
"I want the moon!" she shouted, suddenly believing that
such fancies were actually possible.
"I'll give you everything and the moon," he said fiercely.