obert ran his hands up her arms, across her shoulders, down her back—all just to assure himself that she was really there. He paused for just a moment to stare into her eyes, and then took her face in his hands and kissed her.

He kissed her with all the passion he'd kept bottled up for seven years.

He kissed her with all the agony he'd experienced these last few weeks, not knowing if she was dead or alive.

He kissed her with everything he was and everything he wanted to be. And he would have kept kissing her if a hand hadn't closed around his left ear and yanked him away.

"Robert Kemble!" his aunt yelled. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Robert shot a beseeching glance at Victoria, who looked quite dazed and mortified. "I need to talk to you," he said firmly, pointing his finger at her.

"What is the meaning of this?" Madame Lambert demanded, with nary a trace of a French accent.

"This woman," Robert said, "is my future wife."

"What?" Victoria screeched.

"Heavens above." Mrs. Brightbill breathed.

"Oh, Victoria!" Katie said excitedly.

"Robert, why didn't you tell us?" Harriet exclaimed.

"Who the devil are you?" Madame Lambert asked, and no one was quite sure if the question was directed at Robert or Victoria.

All of the above was uttered at much the same time, leading to such confusion that Victoria finally yelled, "Stop! All of you!"

Every head swiveled in Victoria's direction. She blinked, not quite certain what to do now that she had everyone's attention. Finally she cleared her throat and lifted her chin. "If you'll all excuse me," she said with what she knew was a pathetic display of pride, "I'm not feeling at all the thing. I believe I'll go home a touch early today."

All hell broke loose again. Everyone had a firm and vocal opinion about the uncommon situation. In the melee Victoria tried to slip out the back door, but Robert was too fast. His hand wrapped around her wrist, and she felt herself being hauled back into the center of the room.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice somehow fierce and tender at the same time. "Not until I talk to you."

Harriet scooted under her mother's frantically waving arms and darted to Victoria's side. "Are you really going to marry my cousin?" she asked, her face a picture of romantic delight.

"No," Victoria said, shaking her head weakly.

"Yes," Robert barked. "She is."

"But you don't want to marry me."

"Obviously I do, or I wouldn't have declared it in front of the biggest gossip in London."

"He means my mother," Harriet said helpfully.

Victoria sat down on a bolt of green satin and let her face fall into her hands.

Madame Lambert marched over to her side. "I don't know who you are," she said, jabbing her finger into Robert's shoulder, "but I cannot have you assaulting my shopgirls."

"I am the Earl of Macclesfield."

"The Earl of—" Her eyes bugged out. "An earl?"

Victoria moaned, wanting to be anyplace but where she was.

Madame crouched down beside her. "Really, my girl, he's an earl. And did he say he wanted to marry you?"

Victoria just shook her head, her face still in her hands.

"For the love of God!" an imperious voice demanded. "Can none of you see that the poor girl is distressed?"

An older lady dressed all in purple made her way to Victoria's side and cast a maternal arm around her shoulders.

Victoria looked up and blinked. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I am the dowager Duchess of Beechwood."

Victoria looked over at Robert. "Another relation of yours?"

The dowager answered in his stead. "I can assure you that scoundrel is no relation of mine. I was minding my own business, shopping for a new gown for my granddaughter's first ball, and—"

"Oh, God," Victoria moaned, letting her head fall back into her hands. This brought new meaning to the word "mortification." When total strangers felt the need to pity her...

The dowager fixed a sharp stare at Madame Lambert. "Can't you see that the poor dear needs a cup of tea?"

Madame Lambert hesitated, clearly not wanting to miss a minute of the action, then nudged Katie in the ribs. The shopgirl ran off to prepare some tea.

"Victoria," Robert said, trying to sound calm and patient—a difficult endeavor considering his audience. "I need to talk with you."

She lifted her head and wiped her damp eyes, feeling a bit emboldened by all of the feminine sympathy and outrage surrounding her. "I don't want to have anything to do with you," she said with a slight sniffle. "Not a thing."

Her performance caused Robert's aunt to move to the side of Victoria not occupied by the dowager Duchess of Beechwood and drape her with yet another maternal arm.

"Aunt Brightbill," Robert said in an exasperated voice.

"What did you do to the poor girl?" his aunt demanded.

Robert's mouth fell open in disbelief. It was now quite obvious that every female in Britain— with the possible exception of the odious Lady Hollingwood—was aligned against him. "I am trying to ask her to marry me," he bit out. "Surely that counts for something."

Mrs. Brightbill turned to Victoria with an expression that flickered between concern and practicality. "He is offering for you, poor dear." Her voice dropped an octave. "Is there a reason why it would be imperative you accept?"

Harriet's mouth fell open. Even she knew what that meant.

"Absolutely not!" Victoria said loudly. And then, just because she knew it would get him into such big trouble with their conventional female audience, and, of course, because she was still rather furious with him, she added, "He tried to compromise me, but I didn't let him."

Mrs. Brightbill jumped to her feet with surprising speed considering her girth and swatted her nephew with her reticule. "How dare you!" she yelled. "The poor dear is clearly gently bred, even if circumstances have brought her low." She paused in mid-thought, clearly just realizing that her nephew—an earl, for goodness' sake— was offering for a shopgirl, and turned back to Victoria. "I say, you are gently bred, aren't you? I mean to say, you do sound gently bred."

"Victoria is all that is gentle and kind," Robert said.

The woman of whom he spoke merely sniffed and ignored his compliment.

"Her father is the vicar at Bellfield," he added, and then gave a very brief recounting of their history.

"Oh, how romantic." Harriet sighed.

"It was not in the least bit romantic." Victoria snapped. Then she added a bit more gently, "Just so you don't get any foolish notions of elopement in your head."

Harriet's mother patted Victoria approvingly on the shoulder. "Robert," she announced to the room at large, "you will be a lucky gentleman indeed if you can persuade this exceedingly lovely and practical young woman to accept your suit."

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the howl of the teakettle. He was then roundly ignored while the women saw to the tea. Victoria sipped from her cup while she received more approving pats and several concerned "poor dears."

Robert wasn't sure when it had happened, but the balance of power had definitely shifted against him. He was only one man against—his eyes swept the room—eight women.

Eight? Bloody hell. The room started to feel very tight. He tugged at his cravat.

Finally, when some woman in a pink dress— he had no idea who she was and could only deduce that she was another innocent bystander—moved to allow him a view of Victoria's face, he said for what seemed like the hundredth time, "Victoria, I need to talk with you."

She took another sip of her tea, received another maternal pat from the dowager Duchess of Beech wood, and said, "No."

He took a step forward and his tone grew vaguely menacing. "Victoria..."

He would have taken another step forward, but eight women simultaneously speared him with disdainful glares. Even he was not man enough to withstand that. He threw up his arms and muttered, "Too many hens."

Victoria just sat there amidst her new band of admirers, looking disgustingly serene.

Robert took a deep breath and jabbed his finger in the air. "This is not the end of this, Victoria. I will speak with you."

And then, with another incomprehensible comment about roosters and hens, he stalked from the dress shop.

"Is he still there?"

At Victoria's request, Katie once again peered through the storefront window. "'Is carriage 'asn't moved."

"Damn and blast," Victoria muttered, which caused Mrs. Brightbill to say, "I thought you said your father was a vicar."

Victoria glanced at the clock. Robert's carriage had been parked in front of the dress shop for two hours now, and he showed no signs of leaving. Neither did any of the ladies who had witnessed their bizarre reunion. Madame Lambert had had to boil four more pots of tea to accommodate everyone.

"He cannot remain in the street all day," Harriet said. "Can he?"

"He's an earl," her mother replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "He can do anything he pleases."

"And that," Victoria declared, "is just the problem." How dare he come waltzing back into her life, assuming that she would throw herself prostrate at his feet, and just because he suddenly had it in his head that he once more wanted to marry her.

He wanted to marry her. Victoria shook her head, quite unable to believe it. Once it had been her deepest dream; now it seemed more like a cruel mockery of fate.

He wanted to marry her? Ha! It was too damned late for that.

"Did you just curse again?" Harriet whispered, darting a furtive glance at her mother.

Victoria looked up, surprised. She hadn't realized she'd spoken her thoughts. "He does that to me," she growled.

"Cousin Robert?"

Victoria nodded. "He thinks he can manage my life."

Harriet shrugged. "He tries to manage everyone's life. He usually does a bang-up job of it, actually. We've never been in such good funds as since he started managing our money for us."

Victoria looked at her oddly. "Isn't it considered bad ton to discuss money?"

"Yes, but you're family." This was said with an expansive wave of Harriet's arm.

"I am not family," Victoria ground out.

"You will be," Harriet replied, "if Cousin Robert has anything to do with it. And he usually gets what he wants."

Victoria planted her hands on her hips and glared out the window at his carriage. "Not this time."

"Er, Victoria," Harriet said, looking a touch anxious, "I haven't known you for very long, so it would be quite beyond me to know the intricacies of your facial expressions, but I must say I don't like the look in your eye."

Victoria turned slowly around, baffled. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, I must caution you against it."

"I'm going to talk with him," Victoria said resolutely, and then, before anyone could stop her, she marched out of the dress shop.

Robert jumped down from his carriage in an instant. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Victoria cut him off.

"You wanted to speak with me?" she said, her voice sharp.

"Yes, I—"

"Good. I want to talk with you, too."

"Torie, I—"

"Don't think, even for a second, that you may manage my life. I don't know what has prompted your remarkable change of heart, but I am not a puppet who may be maneuvered at your will."

"Of course not, but—"

"You cannot insult me the way you did and expect me to forget about it."

"I realize that, but—"

"Furthermore, I am quite content without you. You are high-handed, arrogant, insufferable—"

"—and you love me," Robert interrupted, looking quite pleased to have finally gotten a word in edgewise.

"I most certainly do not!"

"Victoria," he said in an irritatingly pacifying tone, "you will always love me."

Her mouth fell open. "You are mad."

He swept into a courtly bow and raised her limp hand to his lips. "I have never been saner than I am at this very moment."

Victoria's breath caught in her throat. Fragments of memory flashed through her mind, and she was seventeen again. Seventeen, utterly in love, and desperate to be kissed. "No," she said, choking on her words. "No. You are not going

to do this to me again."

His eyes burned into hers. "Victoria, I love you."

She wrenched her hand away. "I can't listen to this." And then she ran back into the shop.

Robert watched her retreating form and sighed, wondering why he was so surprised that she hadn't fallen into his arms and passionately declared her undying love for him. Of course she was going to be angry with him. Furious. He had been so insane with worry and so racked with guilt that he hadn't for a moment stopped to think how she might react to his sudden reappearance in her life.

He didn't have time to ponder this any further, however, because his aunt came storming out of the dress shop.

"What," she screeched, "did you say to that poor girl? Don't you think you've done enough to her for one day?"

Robert impaled his aunt with a glare. Really, all of this interference was getting to be most annoying. "I told her that I love her."

That seemed to take some of the air out of her sails. "You did?"

Robert didn't even bother to nod.

"Well, whatever you said, don't say it again."

"You want me to tell her that I don't love her?"

His aunt planted her hands on her ample hips. "She is very upset."

Robert had had just about enough of female meddling. "Damn it, so am I."

Mrs. Brightbill drew back and placed an affronted hand on her chest. "Robert Kemble, did you just curse in my presence?"

"I have spent the last seven years utterly miserable because of a stupid misunderstanding propagated by a pair of goddamn interfering fathers. Frankly, Aunt Brightbill, your offended sensibilities are not high on my list of priorities just now."

"Robert Kemble, I have never been more insulted—"

"—in your entire life." He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"—in my entire life. And I don't care if you are an earl. I'm going to advise that poor, poor, dear of a girl not to marry you." With a loud har-rumph, Mrs. Brightbill turned on her heel and stomped back into the dress shop.

"Hens!" Robert yelled at the door. "All of you! You're nothing but a bunch of hens!"

"Begging your pardon, milord," said the groom who'd been leaning against the side of the carriage, "but I don't think it's such a bonny time to be a rooster."

Robert turned a withering glare on the man. "MacDougal, if you weren't so bloody good with the horses—"

"I know, I know, you'd have thrown me out years ago."

"There is always today," Robert growled.

MacDougal smiled with the confidence of a man who has become more friend than servant. "Did you notice how quickly she said she didna love you?"

"I noticed," Robert growled.

"Just wanted to let you know. In case you didna notice."

Robert whipped his head around. "You do realize that you're rather impertinent for a servant."

"It's why you keep me on, my lord."

Robert knew it was true, but he didn't much feel like admitting it just then, so he turned his attention back to the storefront. "You can barricade yourselves all you want," he yelled, waving his fist in the air. "I'm not leaving!"

"What did he say?" Mrs. Brightbill asked, nursing her bruised feelings with her seventh I cup of tea.

"He said he's not leaving," Harriet replied.

"I could have told you that," Victoria muttered.

"More tea, please!" Mrs. Brightbill said, waving her now empty cup in the air. Katie hurried over with more of the steaming beverage. The older lady drained the cup and then stood, smoothing her skirts with her hands. "If you'll all excuse me," she announced to the room at large. Then she toddled off to the retiring room.

"Madame's going to have to buy another chamber pot," Katie muttered.

Victoria shot her a disapproving look. She'd been trying to educate the girl in manners and deportment for several weeks now. Still, it was a sign of her jangled nerves that she replied, "No more tea. Not another drop for any of you."

Harriet looked up with an owlish expression and set her cup firmly down.

"This is insanity!" Victoria announced. "He has us trapped."

"Actually," Harriet said, "he only has you trapped. I could leave at any time, and he probably wouldn't notice."

"Oh, he'd notice," Victoria muttered. "He notices everything. I've never met a more stubborn, disgustingly organized—"

"I'm sure that's quite enough, dear," Madame Lambert cut in, aware that her shopgirl might be insulting her clientele. "After all, his lordship is Miss Brightbill's cousin."

"Oh, don't stop on my account," Harriet said enthusiastically. "I am enjoying myself immensely."

"Harriet!" Victoria suddenly exclaimed.

"Yes?"

"Harriet."

"I believe you said that already."

Victoria stared at the girl, her brain whirring at triple-speed. "Harriet, you might just be the answer to my prayers."

"I rather doubt I'm the answer to anyone's prayers," Harriet replied. "I'm forever getting into scrapes and speaking without thinking first."

Victoria smiled and patted her hand. "I find it most endearing."

"Do you really? How perfectly lovely. I shall adore having you as my cousin."

Victoria forced herself not to clench her teeth. "I shan't be your cousin, Harriet."

"I really wish you would. Cousin Robert isn't so bad once you get to know him."

Victoria forbore to point out that she already did know the man in question. "Harriet, if you could do me a favor?"

"I should be delighted."

"I need you to be a distraction."

"Oh, that will be easy. Mama is forever calling me a distraction."

"Would you mind terribly running out of the front of the store and distracting his lordship? So that I might slip out the back way?"

Harriet furrowed her brow. "If I do that he won't have a chance to court you."

Victoria thought herself the holiest kind of saint for not yelling out "Exactly!" Instead she said in gentle tones, "Harriet, I am not going to marry your cousin under any circumstances. But if I do not escape this store soon, we may very well be trapped here all through the night. Robert shows no sign of leaving."

Harriet appeared undecided.

Victoria decided to play a trump card and whispered, "Your mother might grow testy."

Harriet turned green. "Very well."

"Just give me a moment to get ready." Victoria hastily began to gather her things.

"What shall I say to him?"

"Whatever you like."

Harriet pursed her lips. "I am not certain that this is a sensible plan."

Victoria halted in her tracks. "Harriet, I am begging you."

With a loud sigh and a dramatic shrug of her shoulders, the younger girl pushed open the door to the dress shop and stepped outside.

"Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant," Victoria whispered, dashing through the back room. She pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders and slipped through the back door.

Freedom! Victoria felt almost giddy.

She was aware that she was enjoying herself perhaps a touch too much; there was something incredibly satisfying about outwitting Robert. Eventually she would have to face her emotions and deal with the fact that the man who had broken her heart twice was back, but for now beating him at his own game would be enough.

"Ha!" she said, grinning like an idiot at the brick wall of a neighboring building. All she had to do was make her way down the rest of the alleyway, take a left, and she'd be out of his clutches. At least for today.

Victoria scurried down the back steps to the shop. But when her foot touched the cobblestones of the alley, she sensed a presence.

Robert! It had to be.

But as she turned she saw not Robert but a huge black-haired man with a frightening scar running down his cheek.

Then he reached for her.

Victoria dropped her satchel and screamed.

"Hush up, lassie," the villain said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Victoria saw no reason to believe him, and she delivered a swift kick to his shin before taking off and trying to reach the end of the alleyway, where she prayed she could disappear into the London crowds.

But he was fast, or maybe she just didn't know how to kick hard enough, because he caught her around her waist and hauled her up until her feet no longer touched the ground. She thrashed, screamed, grunted; she wasn't about to let this thug carry her off without inflicting a bit of pain in the process.

She managed to land a sound whack on the side of his head, and he dropped her, letting out a loud expletive in the process. Victoria scrambled to her feet, but she'd only gained a few yards when she felt her assailant's hand close around some of the loose fabric of her cloak.

And then she heard the words she dreaded most.

"Your lordship!" the villain bellowed.

Lordship? Victoria's heart sank. She should have known.

The large man yelled out again. "If you dinna get yourself around the corner, I'll quit before you can dismiss me again!"

Victoria slumped, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see Robert's satisfied smile as he rounded the corner.