“I was only courted by you for two months,” she was compelled to point out.
“Yes, but you spent the next seven years thinking about me.”
Victoria didn't see any point in denying this, but she did say, “Weren't you listening to anything I said this morning?”
He leaned forward, his light blue eyes startlingly intense. “I listened to everything you said. And then I spent all morning thinking about it. I believe I understand your feelings.”
“Then why are you here?” she ground out.
“Because I think you're wrong.”
Victoria dropped her pins.
“Life isn't about crawling under a rock and watching the world go by, desperately hoping it won't touch us.” He knelt down and began to help her gather the pins. “Life is about taking chances, about reaching for the moon.”
“I took chances,” she said flatly. “I lost.”
“And you're going to let that rule your life forever? Victoria, you're only four and twenty. You have years ahead of you. Are you saying that you're going to take the safe road for the rest of your life?”
“As pertains to you, yes.”
He stood. “I can see that I will have to give you some time to reflect on this.”
She glared at him, hoping that he didn't notice how her hands were shaking.
“I will return at the end of the day to escort you home,” he said, and she wondered whether he meant her home or his.
“I won't be here,” she said.
He only shrugged. “I'll find you. I'll always find you.”
Victoria was saved from having to ponder that ominous statement by the bell over the door. “I have to work,” she muttered.
Robert executed a smart bow and waved his hand toward the door. His courtly gesture faltered, however, when he saw the dress shop's latest customers.
Mrs. Brightbill bustled in, pulling Harriet along behind her. “Ah, there you are, Miss Lyndon,” she trilled. “And Robert, too.”
“I had a feeling we might find you here, cousin,” Harriet said.
Victoria bobbed a curtsy. “Mrs. Brightbill. Miss Brightbill.”
Harriet waved a hand at her. “Please do call me Harriet. We are to be relations, after all.”
Robert beamed at his cousin.
Victoria scowled at the floor. Much as she would have liked to scowl at Harriet, store policy did not allow her to make faces at customers. And she had just spent all morning trying to convince Robert that she wanted to keep her position at the dress shop, hadn't she?
“We have come to ask you to tea,” Harriet announced.
“I'm afraid I must decline,” Victoria said demurely. “It wouldn't be proper.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Brightbill declared.
“My mother is considered an authority on what is proper and what is not,” Harriet said. “So if she says it is proper, you can be sure that it is.”
Victoria blinked, needing an extra second to work through the maze of Harriet's words.
“I'm afraid I must agree with Harriet, much as it pains me to do so,” Robert said. “I myself have often been on the receiving end of Aunt Brightbill's lectures on propriety.”
“I don't find that particularly difficult to believe,” Victoria said.
“Oh, Robert can be quite a rake,” Harriet said. This earned her a disapproving look from her cousin.
Victoria turned to the younger girl with interest. “Is that so?”
“Oh, yes. I fear it was his broken heart that forced him to turn to other women.”
A nasty feeling began to develop in Victoria's stomach. “Exactly how many other women are we talking about?”
“Scores,” Harriet said earnestly. “Legions.”
Robert began to chuckle.
“Don't laugh,” Harriet hissed. “I am trying to make her jealous on your behalf.”
Victoria coughed, hiding a smile behind her hand. Really, Harriet was such a dear.
Mrs. Brightbill, who had been conversing with Madame Lambert, rejoined the conversation. “Are you ready, Miss Lyndon?” Her tone clearly implied that she did not expect another refusal.
“It is very kind of you, Mrs. Brightbill, but I'm frightfully busy here at the dress shop, and—”
“I just spoke to Madame Lambert, and she assured me that she might spare you for an hour.”
“You might as well give in gracefully,” Robert said with a smile. “My aunt always gets her way.”
“It must run in the family,” Victoria muttered.
“I certainly hope so,” he replied.
“Very well,” Victoria said. “A cup of tea does sound rather nice, actually.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Brightbill said, rubbing her hands together. “We have much to discuss.”
Victoria blinked a few times and adopted an innocent expression. “His lordship won't be joining us, will he?”
“Not if you do not desire it, dear.”
Victoria turned to the man in question and offered him an acidic smile. “Good day, then, Robert.”
Robert merely leaned against the wall and smiled as she left, willing to let her believe she'd outwitted him. Victoria had said she craved normalcy, hadn't she? He chuckled. People didn't get more frighteningly normal than Aunt Brightbill.
Tea was actually a rather pleasant affair. Mrs. Brightbill and Harriet regaled Victoria with tales aplenty about Robert, few of which Victoria was inclined to believe. The way they extolled his honor, bravery, and kindness, one would think he was a candidate for sainthood.
Victoria wasn't entirely sure why they were so intent on welcoming her to their family; Robert's father certainly hadn't been enthusiastic about his son marrying a vicar's daughter. And now she was a common shopgirl! It was unheard of for an earl to marry someone such as her. Still, Victoria could only deduce from Mrs. Brightbill's frequent statements of, “My, but we'd quite given up on dear Robert marrying,” and “You're the first respectable lady he's shown an interest in in years,” that she was quite eager for a match.