The ride to Ramsgate took just over three hours. Robert was surprised that Victoria fell asleep in the carriage. He'd thought her much too tense to drift into slumber, but then again maybe she was simply exhausted. He didn't much mind her inattention; he liked to watch her while she slept.
It also gave him the opportunity to carry her into the cottage when they arrived. She was warm and soft and everything he could ever want. He gently set her down on the bed in the cottage's second bedroom and pulled a quilt up over her. She might be uncomfortable sleeping in her clothing, but he rather thought she'd prefer that to being undressed by him.
He, of course, would have preferred…He shuddered and shook his head. Never mind what he would have preferred. He was getting hot just thinking about it, and his cravat suddenly felt uncommonly tight.
Robert left the room with a groan, firmly resolving to take a swim in the icy ocean as soon as possible.
Chapter 17
Victoria woke up to the smell of salt air. She yawned and blinked, momentarily confused by her surroundings. This must be Robert's cottage, she realized. She wondered when he had purchased it. He hadn't owned it when they had courted so many years before.
She sat up in bed and took stock of the room. It was quite lovely, actually, done in shades of blue and peach. It wasn't a particularly feminine room, but it wasn't masculine either, and she had no doubt that it was not Robert's chamber. She let out a sigh of relief. She hadn't really thought that he would be so bold as to put her in his bedroom, but it had been a niggling fear.
Victoria rose to her feet and decided to explore the cottage. The house was quiet—Robert was either asleep or out. Either way it afforded her a perfect opportunity to snoop. She padded out into the hall, not bothering to put on her shoes. It was a sturdy little house, with thick stone walls and a timbered roof. Its snug second floor housed only two rooms, but each had a fire-place. Victoria peeked into the other room and ascertained that it was Robert's. The four-poster bed was solid and masculine and faced a large window, open to a glorious view of the Strait of Dover. A telescope stood by the window. Robert had always loved to look at the stars.
She walked back into the hall and made her way downstairs. The house was nothing if not cozy. There was no formal dining room, and the sitting room looked comfortable and well loved. Victoria was making her way back through the dining area, intending to inspect the kitchen, when she spied a note on the table. She picked it up and instantly recognized Robert's handwriting.
V—
Have gone for a swim.
—R
A swim? Was the man batty? Granted, it was summer, but it was not a particularly sunny day, and the water had to be freezing. Victoria went to a window to see if she could see Robert in the surf, but the water was too far below her to make anything out.
She ran upstairs and put on her shoes. Because she didn't have a shawl—indeed, she didn't even have a change of clothing save the seductively cut blue silk nightgown that he had picked out for her—she took a thin blanket to wrap around her shoulders. The wind appeared to be picking up, and the sky was growing darker. She doubted her dress would be warm enough to brave the elements.
Victoria dashed back downstairs and out the front door. To her left she could see a path leading down the steep hill to the rocky beach. The path was very narrow, so she took careful steps as she began her descent, using one hand to hold the blanket around her shoulders and the other for balance. After several minutes of careful footwork, she reached the bottom and scanned the horizon for Robert.
Where was he?
She cupped her hands to her lips and bellowed his name. She heard no response save the swishing sound of the surf. She hadn't really expected him to yell back, but a wave or a motion to show that he was still alive would have been nice.
She clutched the blanket closer to her body, then arranged it so it would protect her clothing as she sat down.
The wind grew more fierce, and the salt air stung her cheeks. Her hair was beginning to grow stiff, her toes were freezing, and damn it, where was Robert? It couldn't be safe to be out swimming in this weather. She stood again, scanned the horizon, and yelled his name. Then, just when she decided that her situation could not get any worse, a sharp raindrop stabbed her cheek.
Victoria looked down, saw that her arms were shaking, and then realized that it wasn't because of the cold. She was terrified. If Robert drowned…
She couldn't even complete the thought. She was still angry with him for his high-handed behavior this past week, and she wasn't at all certain that she wanted to marry him, but the thought of him forever gone from this world was beyond comprehension.
The rain grew thicker. Victoria continued to yell Robert's name, but the wind refused to carry her words to sea. She felt helpless and impotent. There was absolutely no point in venturing into the water to save him—he was a much stronger swimmer than she was, and besides, she hadn't a clue where he was. So she just bellowed his name yet again. Not that he could hear her, but it was the only thing she could do.
And doing nothing was pure agony.
She watched as the sky darkened ominously, listened as the wind's shrieks grew more ferocious—and told herself to breathe evenly as her heart raced with panic. And then, just when she was sure she would explode with frustration, she saw a flash of pink on the horizon.
She ran to the water's edge. “Robert!” she screamed. A minute passed, and then she could finally make out that the object in the water was indeed a man.
“Oh, thank God, Robert,” she breathed, running into the calf-deep water. He was still much too far away for her to be of any use, but she couldn't stop herself from moving toward him. Besides, it seemed silly to worry about her wet ankles when the rain had already soaked through her clothing.