“Would you like a spot of tea?” Ellie asked as she rose. “You really don't look at all well.”
“Ellie,” he said, his voice growing resolute for the first time during their conversation, “I haven't been well for seven years. If you'll excuse me.”
He left without another word, and in a great hurry.
Ellie had no doubt where he was going.
“What do you mean you turned her out?”
“Without a reference,” Lady Hollingwood said proudly.
Robert took a deep breath, aware that for the first time in his life he was sorely tempted to punch a woman in the face. “You let—” He stopped and cleared his throat, needing the time to get his temper under control. “You dismissed a gently bred woman without a character? Where do you expect her to go?”
“I can assure you that is none of my concern. I certainly did not want that trollop near my son, and it would have been unconscionable of me to give her a reference so that she might corrupt other young children with her unsavory influence.”
“It would behoove you not to call my future countess a trollop, Lady Hollingwood,” Robert said tightly.
“Your future countess?” Lady Hollingwood's words came out in a panicked rush. “Miss Lyndon?”
“Indeed.” Robert had long ago perfected the art of the glacial stare, and he speared Lady Hollingwood with one of his best.
“But-but you cannot marry her!”
“Is that so?”
“Eversleigh told me that she all but threw herself at him.”
“Eversleigh is an ass.”
Lady Hollingwood stiffened at his foul language. “Lord Macclesfield, I must ask you—”
He cut her off. “Where is she?”
“I certainly do not know.”
Robert advanced on her, his eyes cold and hard. “You have no idea? Not a single thought in your head?”
“She, ah, she might have contacted the employment agency she used when I hired her.”
“Ah, now we're getting somewhere. I knew you were not completely useless.”
Lady Hollingwood swallowed uncomfortably. “I have the information right here. Let me copy it down for you.”
Robert nodded curtly and crossed his arms. He'd learned to use his size to intimidate, and right then he wanted nothing more than to intimidate the hell out of Lady Hollingwood. She scurried across the room and fished a sheet of paper from a desk. With shaking hands she copied an address down for him.
“Here you are,” she said, holding out the slip. “I do hope this little misunderstanding will not affect our future friendship.”
“My dear lady, I cannot conceive of a single thing you could do that would ever make me want to lay eyes on you again.”
Lady Hollingwood paled, watching all her social aspirations go up in flames.
Robert looked at the London address on the paper in his hand, then left the room without even so much as a nod toward his hostess.
Victoria had come looking for a job, the woman at the employment agency told him with an unsympathetic shrug, but she'd sent her away. It was impossible to place a governess without a character reference.
Robert's hands began to shake. Never had he felt so damned impotent. Where the hell was she?
Several weeks later Victoria hummed cheerfully as she carried her load of sewing to work. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so happy. Oh, there was still the lingering heartache over Robert, but she'd come to accept that it would always be a part of her.
But she was content. There had been a moment of wrenching panic when the lady at the employment agency had declared her unemployable, but then Victoria had remembered the sewing she had done while growing up. If there was one thing she could do, it was stitch a perfect seam, and she soon found employment in a dressmaker's shop.
She was paid by the piece, and she found the work immensely satisfying. If she did a good job, she did a good job, and no one could say otherwise. There were no Lady Hollingwoods leaning over her shoulder complaining that their children couldn't recite the alphabet fast enough and then blaming Victoria when they stumbled over M, N, and O. Victoria rather liked the non-subjective aspect of her new job. If she sewed a seam straight, no one could say it was crooked.
So unlike being a governess. Victoria couldn't have been more pleased.
It had been a dreadful blow when Lady Hollingwood dismissed her. That rat Eversleigh had grown spiteful and spread tales, and of course Lady H. would never take the word of a governess over that of a peer of the realm.
And Robert was gone, so he couldn't defend her. Not that she wanted him to, or expected him to. She expected nothing from him after he'd insulted her so terribly by asking her to be his mistress.
Victoria shook her head. She tried not to think about that awful encounter. Her hopes had been raised so high and then dashed so low. She would never, ever forgive him for that.
Ha! As if he would ever beg her forgiveness, the lout.
Victoria found it made her feel much better to think of him as Robert-the-lout. She wished she'd thought of it seven years earlier.
Victoria balanced her load of sewing on her hip as she pushed open the rear door to Madame Lambert's Dress Shop. “Good day, Katie!” she called out, greeting the other seamstress.
The blond girl looked up with relief in her eyes. “Victoria, I'm so glad you're finally 'ere.”
Victoria set her bundle down. “Is something amiss?”
“Madame is…” Katie paused, looked over her shoulder, and then continued in a whisper, “Madame is frantic. Four customers in the front, and she—”
“Is Victoria here?” Madame Lambert burst into the back room, not bothering to adopt the French accent she used with customers. She spied Victoria, who was sorting through the sewing she'd brought home with her the previous night. “Thank the heavens. I need you in front.”