Because she could not shut her ears, she shut her eyes, but this did little to block his over-whelming presence.

“The heart, I have learned, exists only for pain. Love is a poet's dream, but pain—” His fingers tightened around her shoulders. “Pain is so very, very real.”

Without opening her eyes, she whispered, “I know more about pain than you will ever learn.”

“Pain that you failed to snag yourself a fortune, Victoria? That's hardly what I'm talking about. But—” He lifted his hands off her with a flourish. “I no longer feel pain.”

Victoria opened her eyes.

He stared at her face. “I no longer feel anything.”

She stared back, her eyes every bit as hard as his. This was the man who had betrayed her. He'd promised her the moon, and instead stolen her soul. Perhaps she wasn't such a noble person, because she was glad that he'd grown so bitter, glad that his was an unhappy life.

He no longer felt anything? She said exactly what she felt. “Good.”

He raised a brow at the malicious pleasure in her voice. “I can see I did not misjudge you.”

“Good-bye, Robert.” A right, two lefts, and another right. She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Robert stood in the maze for an hour, his eyes unfocused, his body slack.

Torie. Just the sound of her name in his mind made him shake.

He'd lied to her when he told her he no longer felt anything. When he'd first seen her, impossibly sitting there in the maze, he'd felt such a rush of pleasure and relief—as if she could fill the emptiness that had engulfed him these past seven years.

But of course she was the one who'd carved his heart hollow.

He had tried to erase her memory with other women—although never, to his father's great dismay, the sort one might consider marrying. He'd consorted with widows, courtesans, and opera singers. He'd even sought out companions with Victoria's unique coloring, as if thick black hair and blue eyes could mend the rift in his soul. And sometimes, when the ache in his heart was particularly strong, he forgot himself and called out her name in the heat of passion. It was embarrassing, but none of his mistresses were indiscreet enough to mention it. They always received an extra token of gratitude when it happened, and they merely redoubled their efforts to please him.

But none of these women had made him forget. Not a day had gone by when Victoria didn't dance through his brain. Her laughter, her smiles.

Her betrayal. The one thing he could never forgive.

Torie. That thick black hair. Those bright blue eyes. Age had only made her more beautiful.

And he wanted her.

Lord help him, he still wanted her.

But he also wanted revenge.

He just didn't know which he wanted more.

Chapter 5

Victoria awoke the next morning with only one thought in her head: she wanted to stay as far away from Robert Kemble, Earl of Macclesfield, as possible.

She didn't want revenge. She didn't want an apology. She just didn't want to see him.

She rather hoped Robert felt the same way. Lord knew he had seemed uncommonly angry with her the previous night. She shrugged, not quite certain why he would have been quite so furious. She supposed she had pricked his male ego. She was probably his only failure at seduction.

Victoria dressed quickly, mentally preparing herself for breakfast with Neville, which was always an unpleasant chore. That boy had learned how to complain from a master—his mother. If the eggs weren't too cold, then the tea was too hot, or the—

A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Victoria whirled around, her heart suddenly pounding triple-time. Surely Robert wouldn't have the audacity to approach her in her room. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, remembering his surly attitude. He probably would go ahead and do such a foolish thing.

Fury rose within her. Such behavior could cost her her position, and unlike Robert she was not appallingly wealthy. She crossed the room in quick strides and yanked open the door with an angry, “What?”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Lyndon.”

“Oh, Lady Hollingwood, I'm so sorry. I thought you were…That is to say…” Miserably, Victoria let her words trail off. At this rate she wouldn't need Robert to lose her position for her. She was doing a good job of it all by herself.

Lady Hollingwood inclined her head imperiously and entered the room without waiting for an invitation. “I am here to talk with you about your unfortunate disappearance last evening.”

“Master Neville led me into the maze, my lady. I could not find my way out.”

“Do not try to force a boy of only five years to accept the blame for your actions.”

Victoria fisted her hands at her sides.

“Do you realize,” Lady Hollingwood continued, “the extent to which you inconvenienced me? I had a house full of guests to attend to, and I was forced to take time away from them to put my son to bed. You should have been there to do it.”

“I would have been, my lady,” Victoria said, trying not to clench her teeth. “But I was trapped in the maze. Surely you—”

“You may consider this your final warning, Miss Lyndon. I am most displeased with your performance. One more mishap and I shall be forced to toss you out.” Lady Hollingwood whirled on her heel and stalked back into the hall. Then she turned around to say, “Without a reference.”

Victoria stared at the open doorway for several seconds before finally letting out a deep breath. She would have to find a new position. This was unacceptable. Unbearable. It was—

“Victoria.” Robert's frame filled the doorway. “As if the day could get any worse,” she muttered.