full day passed before Victoria saw him again. A full day of waiting, of wondering, of dreaming about him even when she knew that was absolutely the wrong thing to be doing.

Robert Kemble had broken her heart once, and she had no reason to believe that he wouldn't do it again.

Robert. She had to stop thinking of him that way. He was the earl of Macclesfield, and his title dictated his behavior in a way she could never hope to understand.

It was the reason he'd rejected her, the reason he'd never once seriously contemplated marrying a poor vicar's daughter. It was probably the reason he'd lied to her. During the past few years Victoria had learned that seducing young innocents was considered a kind of sport among noblemen. Robert had just been following the rules of his world.

His world. Not hers.

And yet he had solved her problems with Neville. He certainly didn't have to do that. The young boy was now treating her as if she were the queen. Victoria had never had such a peaceful day of governessing in her career.

Oh, she knew that heroes were supposed to slay dragons and quote verse and all that, but maybe, just maybe, all it really took to be a hero was getting the world's most difficult five-year-old to behave.

Victoria shook her head. She couldn't afford to place Robert on a pedestal. And if he tried to see her alone again, she would have to send him on his way. It didn't matter if her heart soared when she saw him, or if her pulse raced, or if her—

She forced herself to stop in mid-thought and turned her mind back to the matter at hand. She and Neville were taking their daily walk around the Hollingwood grounds. For the first time in memory, he hadn't stomped on her foot or poked at some poor insect with a stick. And he called her Miss Lyndon every chance he got. Victoria was pleased that he had finally learned

a lesson in manners. Perhaps there might be hope for the boy after all.

Neville raced ahead, then whirled around and ran back to her side. "Miss Lyndon," he said with great gravity, "have we any special plans for today?"

"I am glad you asked, Neville," she replied. "We're going to play a new game today."

"A new game?" He looked at her with a bit of suspicion, as if he had already discovered all of Britain's worthwhile games.

"Yes," she said briskly, "we are. Today we are going to discuss colors."

"Colors?" he said with that particular brand of disgust only a boy of five years can convey. "I already know my colors." He began to list them. "Red, blue, green, yellow—"

"We are going to learn new colors," she cut in.

"... purple, orange..." He was shouting now.

"Neville Hollingwood!" Victoria spoke in her sternest voice.

He quieted down, something he probably wouldn't have done before Robert's intervention.

"Do I have your attention now?" Victoria asked.

Neville nodded.

"Excellent. Now then, today we are going to study the color green. There are many different shades of green. For example, the leaf on that tree over there is not the exact same color as the grass we are standing on, is it?"

Neville's little head shot back and forth between the leaf and the grass. "No," he said, as if not quite believing what he was seeing. "It's not." He looked up excitedly. "And it's not quite the same color as the stripe on your dress!"

"Very good, Neville. I'm very proud of you."

He beamed.

"Let us see how many different shades of green we can find. And once we're done we shall find names for all these greens."

"There is moss on the rocks in the pond."

"Yes, indeed. We shall call that moss green."

"What is the green on your dress called?"

Victoria looked down and surveyed her drab dress. "I believe it is called forest green."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "It's much darker than the forest."

"Not at night."

"I've never been outside in the forest at night."

Victoria smiled. "I have."

"You have?" He looked at her with new respect.

"Mmm-hmm. Now then, what other colors can you find?"

"What about the dress my mama was wearing this morning? It was an icky color, but it was green."

Victoria was inclined to agree with his assessment of Lady Hollingwood's dress, but she wasn't about to say so. "Your mother's dress was not 'icky,' Neville," she said diplomatically. "And we call that color—er, I suppose it would be called brackish green."

"Brackish." He let the word roll around in his mouth for a moment before pointing a stubby finger to Victoria's right. "What about his lordship's coat? That's green, too."

Victoria felt her stomach plummet to somewhere in the vicinity of her feet as she turned her head. She groaned. It would have to be Robert. There were at least a dozen "his lordships" on the property for the house party, but no, it would have to be Robert walking toward them.

Not that she thought this was any coincidence.

"Good morning, Miss Lyndon, Master Neville." Robert swept into a courtly bow.

Victoria nodded her head, trying to ignore the way her heart was soaring and her pulse was racing. She let out a snort, thoroughly disgusted with herself.

"That is certainly a nice greeting," Robert said, smiling at her reaction.

His gaze locked with hers, and Victoria felt the breath leave her body. She probably would have stood stock still all afternoon, staring into his eyes, if Neville had not interrupted them.

"My lord! My lord!" came the voice from below.

Reluctantly, both Victoria and Robert looked down.

"We're practicing colors," Neville said proudly.

"Is that so?" Robert crouched down to the boy's level. "Did you know that objects have their colors because of certain properties of light? One cannot see colors in the dark. Scientists call this concept the wave theory of light. It's a relatively new discovery."

Neville blinked.

"My lord," Victoria said, unable to suppress a smile. He'd always been so passionate about the sciences. "Perhaps that is a bit beyond the scope of a five-year-old."

He looked up at her sheepishly. "Oh yes, of course."

Neville coughed, clearly wanting to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Today," he said firmly, "we are discussing green."

"Green, you say?" Robert lifted his arm and pretended to look at his sleeve with great interest. "I am wearing green."

Neville beamed at the attention he was receiving from Robert. "Yes, we were just talking about you."

Robert leveled a rather knowing look in Victoria's direction. "You were?"

"Yes." Neville turned to Victoria. "Miss Lyndon, weren't we talking about his lordship's coat?"

'You certainly were," Victoria retorted, not enjoying herself in the least.

The boy tugged at her sleeve. "What kind of green is it?"

Victoria regarded Robert's coat, an article of clothing so expertly tailored it might well be classified as a piece of art. "Bottle green, Neville. It is called bottle green."

"Bottle green," he repeated. "Thus far I have learned moss green, and bottle green, and brackish green, which I shall call icky green—" "Neville!" Victoria reprimanded. "Very well." He sighed. I shan't call it icky green. "But—" The boy looked up sharply at Robert. "Do you know what color the stripe on Miss Lyndon's dress is?"

Robert stood, letting his eyes rest on the stripe, which happened to be on her bodice. "No," said, not looking back down to Neville. "I don't know."

Victoria fought the urge to cover her breasts with her hands. It was absurd, she knew, because she was fully dressed. But she felt as if Robert could see straight to her skin.

"It's forest green," Neville proclaimed. "And Miss Lyndon should know, because she has been in the forest at night."

Robert arched a brow. "Has she?"

Victoria swallowed painfully, trying not to remember the magical evenings she'd sneaked out of her room and run through the forest in Kent with Robert. It was impossible, of course. Those memories played poignantly through her mind every day. "One can't see colors in the dark," she said peevishly. "The earl said so."

"But you said that forest green was as dark as the forest at night," Neville persisted.

"Perhaps if the moon was out," Robert mused. "One could see a bit of color, and it would be so very romantic."

Victoria glared at him before turning back to the boy. "Neville," she said, her voice sounding odd to her ears. "I'm sure the earl is not interested in our color games."

Robert smiled slowly. "I'm interested in everything you do."

Victoria tugged at Neville's hand. "We really should not keep his lordship. I am certain he has many important things to do. Things that don't involve us."

Neville didn't budge. He looked up at Robert and asked, "Are you married?"

Victoria coughed and managed to get out, "Neville, I'm sure that is none of our business."

"No, Neville, I'm not," Robert replied.

The boy cocked his head. "Maybe you should ask Miss Lyndon. Then you could come live here with us."

Robert looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. "I asked her once."

"Oh, God." Victoria groaned. Life didn't get very much worse than this.

"You did?" Neville said.

Robert shrugged his shoulders. "She wouldn't have me."

Neville whipped his head around to face Victoria. "You said no?" His voice rose to a horrified shriek on the last word.

"I-I-I—" Victoria was spluttering, quite unable to get a word out.

"Miss Lyndon?" Robert prodded, looking as if he hadn't enjoyed himself quite so heartily in many years.

"I didn't say— Oh, for God's sake." Victoria looked at Robert with a ferocious expression. "You should be ashamed of yourself, my lord."

"Ashamed?" He feigned innocence.

"Using a young boy like this to satisfy your... your..."

"My what?"

"Your need to hurt me. It is unconscionable."

"Why, Miss Lyndon, I'm insulted that you would think I would stoop to such levels."

"There is no need to stoop," she said icily. "You have always been lodged somewhere between the gutter and hell."

"Did you say hell?" Neville screeched.

Robert began to shake with silent laughter.

"Neville, we are going back to the house this instant," Victoria said firmly.

"But my colors! I want to finish with green."

She snatched his hand and started hauling him toward the house. "We shall have our tea in the green salon." Victoria didn't bother to look back. The last thing she wanted to see was Robert hunched over with laughter.

If Robert's intention was to torture her into insanity, Victoria thought wryly later that day, he was doing a rather good job of it.

She never dreamed that he would dare seek her out in her room again; she had made it abundantly clear that such behavior was unacceptable. But obviously he didn't care, because at one o'clock, while Neville was taking his riding lesson, he slipped into her room with nary a guilty look.

"Robert!" Victoria exclaimed. "Are you busy?" he asked, his face a picture of innocence as he closed the door behind him. "Busy!" she nearly screeched. "Get out!" 'If you didn't want company, you should have locked your door."

"You can be certain I will adopt that habit in the future." Victoria paused, trying to unclench her jaw. She wasn't successful. "What are you doing here?" she ground out.

He held up a plate. "Bringing you a piece of chocolate cake. I know how much you love it, and I didn't think Lady H. was the sort to share her sweets with the governess." "Robert, you must leave." He ignored her. "Although I cannot imagine that Lady H. is unaware that you are far more beautiful than she is, and I would not put it past her to purposefully try to make you fat." "Have you lost your mind?"

Really, Victoria, you are most unappreciative. Very bad manners. I'm surprised at you." Victoria thought that she must be in the middle of a very strange dream. That could be the only explanation. Robert, lecturing her on propriety? "I must be insane," she muttered. "If you're not, then I must be."

"Nonsense. What could be wrong with two friends enjoying each other's company?"

"That is not our situation, and well you know it." Victoria planted her hands on her hips. "And I'm going to have to ask you not to play your silly games with me in front of Neville anymore. It isn't right."

He held up his hand as if making a solemn vow. "No more games in front of Neville."

"Thank you."

"Although I did convince him to call you Miss Lyndon, did I not?"

Victoria let out a sigh. She was beyond annoyed with him for that afternoon's antics, but her sense of fair play demanded that she thank him. "Yes, Robert, I do thank you for your intervention with Neville yesterday, but—"

He waved his hand. "It was nothing, I assure you."

"Nevertheless, I thank you. However—"

"The boy needed a firm hand."

"I agree with you, but—"

"It is really too bad that I had to be the one to do it, as that task ought to fall to his parents."

She planted her hands on her hips again. "Why do I get the idea that you are trying to stop me from speaking?"

"It may be"—he leaned casually against the doorjamb—"because I know you're trying to dismiss me."

"Exactly."

"Bad idea."

"I beg your pardon."

"I said it's a bad idea. Most inadvisable."

She blinked in aggravation. "It is quite possibly the most advisable idea I've had in a long time."

"But you wouldn't want to be deprived of my company," he returned.

"That is precisely the end I am trying to achieve."

"Yes, but you'll be miserable without me."

"I am quite certain I can judge my own emotions with greater clarity than you."

"Would you like to know what your problem is with Neville?"

"Would you like to tell me?" she asked, with no small amount of sarcasm.

"You don't know how to be stern."

"I beg your pardon. I am a governess. I make my living by being stern."

He shrugged. "You're not very good at it."

Her mouth opened in consternation. "I have spent the last seven years working as a governess. And in case you don't recall, just yesterday you said I was quite good at it."

"At the lesson plans and that sort of thing." He waved his hand nonchalantly in the air. "But discipline—Well, you'll never excel at that."

"That is not true."

"You've never known how to be properly stern." He chuckled and touched her cheek. "I remember it so clearly from before. You would try to scold me, but your eyes were always too warm. And your lips always turn up just a bit at the corners. I don't think you know how to make a serious frown."

Victoria eyed him suspiciously. What was he up to? He had been so furious with her yesterday morning when he stole into her room. But since then he'd been positively congenial. Utterly charming.

"Am I correct?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She leveled a shrewd stare in his direction. "You're trying to seduce me again, aren't you?"

Robert wasn't eating or drinking anything, but he choked nonetheless, requiring Victoria to give him a hearty whack on the back. "I cannot believe you said that," he finally said.

"Is it true?"

"Of course not."

"So it is true."

"Victoria, are you listening to a word I am saying?"

Before she could reply, a knock sounded at the door. Victoria instantly panicked. She threw an agonized glance at Robert, who responded by putting his forefinger to his lips and grabbing the plate of cake as he tiptoed to her wardrobe and climbed in. Victoria blinked in disbelief as she watched him squeeze in. He looked most uncomfortable.

"Miss Lyndon! Open this door at once!" Lady Hollingwood sounded most displeased. "I know you're in there."

Victoria ran to the door, silently thanking her maker that Robert had been rude enough to lock the door behind him. "I'm so sorry, Lady Hollingwood," she said as she pulled the door open. "I was taking a nap. I often do while Neville is at the stables."

Lady Hollingwood's eyes narrowed. "I am certain I heard you speaking."

"It must have been in my sleep," Victoria said quickly. "My sister used to tell me that I kept her up half the night with my mumblings."

"How perfectly bizarre." This was said with disgust, not interest.

Victoria gritted her teeth into a smile. "Was there anything in particular you wanted, Lady Hollingwood? An update on Neville's lessons, perhaps?"

"I shall quiz you on his progress on Wednesday, as is our habit. I am here for a far graver reason."

Victoria's heart dropped. Lady Hollingwood was going to dismiss her. She had seen her with Robert. Perhaps she had even seen him enter her room not ten minutes earlier. Victoria opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't think of any words in her defense. At least none that Lady Hollingwood would pay heed to.

"Miss Hypatia Vinton has taken ill," Lady Hollingwood announced.

Victoria blinked. That was all? "I trust it is not serious."

"Not at all. A putrid stomach, or something of the sort. It is my opinion that she will be well by morning, but she insists upon going home."

"I see," Victoria said, wondering what this had to do with her.

"We are now short a lady for my dinner party tomorrow evening. You will have to take her place."

"Me?" Victoria squeaked.

"It is the worst of possible situations, but I cannot think of any other course of action."

"What about this evening's dinner? Surely you'll need another lady."

Lady Hollingwood fixed a supercilious stare on Victoria's nose. "As it happens, one of my male guests has offered to escort Hypatia home, so we will be evenly matched. It is no use angling for another invitation, Miss Lyndon. I do not want you bothering my guests any more than necessary."

Victoria privately wondered why Lady Hollingwood had bothered to ask her if she was such an embarrassment. She murmured, "It was only a question, my lady."

Her employer frowned. "You do know how to comport yourself in polite society, do you not?"

Victoria said frigidly, "My mother was every inch a lady, Lady Hollingwood. As am I."

"If you disappoint me in this endeavor, I shall not hesitate to throw you out. Do you understand me?"

Victoria didn't see how she could do anything but understand her. Lady Hollingwood threatened to dismiss her every other day. "Yes, of course, Lady Hollingwood."

"Good. I don't suppose you've anything to wear."

"Nothing suitable for such an occasion, my lady."

"I shall have one of my old frocks sent up. It shall fit you well enough."

Victoria declined to mention that Lady Hollingwood was a good stone heavier than she. It just didn't seem in her best interest. Instead she opted for a noncommittal, My lady.

"It will be a few years out of style, Lady Hollingwood mused, "but no one will comment on it. You are the governess, after all."

"Of course."

"Good. We will be serving drinks at eight, and dinner thirty minutes thereafter. Please come at twenty-five minutes past the hour. I do not want my guests to be forced to socialize with you for any longer than is necessary."

Victoria bit her tongue to keep herself from speaking.

"Good day, then." Lady Hollingwood stalked from the room.

Victoria had barely shut the door behind her when Robert bounded out of the wardrobe. "What a cow!" he exclaimed. How can you bear her?"

"I haven't any other choice," she ground out.

Robert eyed her thoughtfully. "No, I don't suppose you do."

More than anything, Victoria wanted to slap him just then. It was one thing for her to be aware of her miserable lot in life. It was quite another for him to comment on it. "I think you had better leave," she said.

"Yes, of course," he concurred. "You have things to do, I'm sure. Governess things."

She crossed her arms. "Don't come here again."

"Why not? The wardrobe was not uncomfortable."

"Robert..." she warned.

"Very well. But first a small token of thanks for the chocolate cake." He leaned down and kissed her hard and fast. "That should get me through the afternoon."

Victoria wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and bit out, "Contemptible swine."

Robert only chuckled. "I look forward to tomorrow evening, Miss Lyndon."

"Don't seek me out."

He raised a brow. "I don't see how you're going to be able to avoid me."