“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 tothe 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 the marquess's 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. I do miss my friends, but 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 in 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 beside me and enjoy the sunshine.”
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 silly 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 entire body.
“Here we are.” Robert emerged from the forest and swept into a courtly bow, a small bouquet of wild 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.”