The Viscount's Wallflower Bride

by Lauren Royal

  “That’s not a messenger,” Violet said. “That’s Harry, Lord Lakefield’s houseman.” As she’d hurried Rowan out the door, she’d seen Hilda’s husband cowering in a corner while his wife scolded him for his part in Jewel’s prank. The man was quite definitely bald, although Violet hadn’t found him disgusting.

  Maybe beauty was in the eye of the beholder.

  She rose and went to her sisters. “Let me see the letter.” She plucked it from Lily’s hand.

  “It’s not for you,” Rose said, snatching it from Violet. “It’s addressed to Rowan.” So saying, she slipped a fingernail beneath the sloppy red wax seal and snapped it off.

  “Rose!” Mum chided.

  “You wouldn’t want to give him a letter without reading it first, Mum, would you? It could be improper for one so young.” Without waiting for her mother’s answer, Rose scanned the page. “The handwriting is rather messy,” she commented, then began reading. “‘Dear Rowan.’” She looked up. “Rather familiar salute, don’t you think?”

  “Goodness, Rose,” Lily said, uncharacteristically impatient. “Must you criticize every word?” She snatched the letter back from her sister. “‘Dear Rowan,’” she repeated. “‘I am sorry about your clothes. But it was funny. I hope you will come see the stars. Love, Jewel.’”

  “‘Love, Jewel?’ Love?” Violet rolled her eyes toward the elaborate plastered ceiling. The blurry curlicues up there seemed in keeping with the little girl’s intricate intrigues, with the five-year-old’s plans for…

  Well, the only word for it was seduction.

  Lily smiled dreamily. “Yesterday when you brought Rowan back, you said Jewel was in love.”

  “I was exaggerating. And to write it down…” Violet couldn’t imagine declaring herself so casually on a piece of paper. Writing was permanent, important. Once something was in writing, it was there forever.

  That was one of the reasons she wished to publish a book.

  “I’m in love, too,” Rose declared.

  Violet blinked. “With whom?”

  “With Lord Lakefield, you goose. To instruct his niece to write a letter to Rowan…well, it just goes to show he’s a true romantic.” Looking rather theatrical, she laid a graceful hand on the smooth skin exposed by the neckline of her periwinkle gown. “Why, it’s almost enough to make me overlook the fact that he’s poor as a church mouse.”

  “What a thing to say, Rose!”

  Her hand dropped. “Well, lucky for me, it doesn’t matter, does it? Thanks to Grandpapa, when I turn eighteen I’ll have enough money to nab whomever I like, rich or destitute.”

  Violet reminded herself to be patient, but she couldn’t help gritting her teeth. “Thanks to providence, that won’t be for three years, by which time we can hope you will have grown up.”

  “Girls,” Mum warned. “That’s quite enough.” She turned to Violet. “Lord Lakefield’s houseman is waiting. Will you be taking Rowan to see the stars?”

  “I’ll bring him,” Rose offered.

  Taking a cue from her husband, Mum pretended not to hear. “Violet?”

  “Yes, I’ll do it, Mum,” Violet said with an elaborate sigh.

  But it was mostly for show. She had to admit, she was curious to see the stars. And for some odd reason, she felt a need to save the viscount from a predatory girl like her sister. Not that she didn’t love Rose, but a gentleman of Ford’s intellect deserved someone who appreciated more than just his exterior qualities.

  Quality though his exterior was.

  And it was very well done of him to have made Jewel write an apology, though she wondered how he could have neglected to supervise its contents before sending the letter.

  Love, indeed.

  TWELVE

  HITCHING HERSELF forward on one of the drawing room’s faded red chairs, Jewel jumped one of Ford’s checkers with hers and palmed her new captive. “Your turn. Will Rowan come tonight, do you think?”

  “I have no idea what he’ll decide. I don’t understand children.”

  “But Uncle Ford, you like children, don’t you?”

  He’d never thought he had particularly. But as he looked at his charming niece, he didn’t have the heart to say so. “I like you.” Studying his position on the black-and-white board, he lifted one of his dark-stained counters. “And I’d wager Rowan does, too,” he added to put a smile on her face. “He seemed much more fond of you after your jest. That was brilliant, baby. You certainly know your way to a young man’s heart.”

  Click-click-click. Three diagonal jumps over her natural wood pieces, and his darker piece was at her end of the board. “King me,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.

  Draughts. He was reduced to playing draughts. And she’d beaten him three times already. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had beaten him at draughts; he must have been seven years old.

  For all his intentions to come home to Lakefield to focus on work and not women, the opposite seemed to be happening. When he wasn’t paying attention to his niece, he was fretting over his shabby estate. Rather than unlocking the secrets of the universe, his ingenuity was aimed at persuading a young woman named Violet Ashcroft to spend as much time here as possible.

  Jewel crowned his piece with one of the hostages she’d taken. “Do you like Rowan?”

  “I do. He’s very interested in my laboratory.” Too interested. But at least the lad had a good brain and a healthy curiosity.

  “Do you think Rowan’s big sister is pretty?”

  Did he? He’d initially thought Violet was nice-looking at best. But now when he pictured her he saw a bold and vivid face, softened by the thoughtful expression in her brandy-brown eyes…

  “She’s pretty,” he said, surprising himself.

  They both looked up as Hilda came in. “Harry seems to have disappeared,” the housekeeper said. “Where is he?”

  Ford shrugged. “I don’t know.” There didn’t seem to be much he knew these days.

  “He went to Rowan’s house,” Jewel said nonchalantly, jumping two more of Ford’s men.

  Hilda smoothed her wide white apron. “And why is that?”

  “I asked him to take a letter there.”

  “A letter?” Ford frowned at the board, where his pieces seemed to be disappearing at an alarming rate.

  “A letter to Rowan,” his niece clarified. “An ap-ap—” She glared at him, as though daring him to help her. “An a-pol-o-gy.”

  “You wrote a letter?” Hilda asked.

  “You wrote a letter?” Ford echoed. “All by yourself?”

  “Well, I know how to write, you know. Mama taught me. What’s so hard about that?”

  Ford took his turn, removing none of Jewel’s pieces. “It’s not the writing of it, baby, it’s thinking to do so in the first place. I’m impressed.”

  “Mama says even a tomboy should have good manners.”

  “I like the way your mother thinks,” Hilda said.

  “Besides, I like getting letters. Nobody ever sends me letters.”

  Seeing her pout, Ford made a mental note to send her a letter after she went home.

  Jewel perused the board. “I thought a letter might make Rowan like me.”

  “He likes you,” came a voice from the doorway. Harry walked in, his florid face split by a big smile.

  Suddenly Hilda’s face wore a frown. “You could tell me when you leave,” she scolded, then immediately bustled out past him.

  “Women,” Harry muttered. “More trouble than they’re worth.” He turned to Jewel with a courtly bow. “Present company excepted, of course.”

  Ford stared. Clearly the girl had won him over. Just as she had Rowan. She looked so innocent in her powder blue gown. So young and vulnerable. Which sat at odds with her fully developed feminine wiles and intuition.

  Jewel bounced on the ancient chair so energetically he feared it might break. “What did Rowan say?”

  “Well, I didn’t talk to him, you understand.” Harry relayed t
he details as seriously as if he were a hired spy. “But his oldest sister came out and said she would bring him after the sunset to see the stars.”

  Jewel squealed and wriggled in her chair, so excited she botched her next few moves. As a consequence, Ford won the game. And Violet was coming with Rowan.

  Things were looking up.

  THIRTEEN

  ROWAN CLIMBED into the carriage and motioned Violet after him. “Hurry, it’s dark already.”

  “The sky isn’t going away.” Still shaking her head at his astonishing change of heart, Violet shrugged into the forest green velvet cloak offered by her mother. “Where’s Margaret?”

  “I gave her the evening off, dear. Hilda and Harry will be there. And Lord Lakefield is a gentleman. I’m sure we can trust him to behave.”

  Especially with the likes of me, Violet thought, biting her lip. That old, familiar truth seemed suddenly distressing.

  “I’ve instructed Willets to come back for you at ten,” Mum added. “Two hours ought to be plenty long enough to stare at the sky.”

  Violet looked up. Except for a milky blur, she’d never seen the stars. “I wonder what I might see there?”

  “The stars are beautiful,” her mother said. “Like diamonds sparkling on a black velvet gown.”

  Smiling at the extravagant description, Violet gazed at the heavens. She wondered if the stars really twinkled, and if she might be able to wish on one. Excitement fluttered in her stomach.

  “I’ll be off, then, Mum.” She kissed her mother’s floral-scented cheek and followed Rowan into the carriage.

  A short while later they mounted Lakefield House’s steps. Rowan didn’t hide behind Violet this time. Jewel opened the door before Violet could lift the knocker, but Violet had anticipated that and didn’t fall into the house.

  Which was rather a pity, since Ford was there to catch her.

  He was still wearing the fancy suit, making her feel underdressed in her simple cotton gown. But that was absurd—she’d only come to look at the sky.

  Instead of ushering her in, he stepped outside, a bit too close for her comfort. “I have the telescope set up in the garden,” he said. “Follow me.”

  For such a tall fellow, he moved with grace. As he headed down the steps, she realized she’d stopped breathing.

  She commanded herself to inhale.

  This was really getting ridiculous.

  He was just a gentleman, nothing more. She couldn’t remember ever being so nervous around one, but perhaps that was because she’d done an admirable job of avoiding them altogether. Surely this discomfort would disappear once she got to know him better. Which she seemed destined to do should Rowan have his way.

  Holding a torch, Ford led her around the side of the house and down a path toward an area so overgrown she’d be loath to call it a garden. More like a jungle, she thought, hiding a smile.

  The children tagged along behind, their voices coming out of the darkness. “Are you angry with me?” Jewel asked Rowan.

  He seemed to consider for a moment. “Will you help me plan a jest on my sisters?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Then I’m not angry.”

  Listening to the exchange, Violet made a mental note to be on the alert for “jests.” If Rowan thought gluing someone to a chair was excusable, heaven only knew what he and Jewel would come up with together.

  In the midst of a tangle of vines sat a ring of scraggly hedges. Ford guided the group through an opening in the greenery. A new one, from the looks of it.

  “Uncle Ford hacked at the plants with an ax today,” Jewel proudly informed them. “After Harry came back and said you would come. Wasn’t that nice?”

  Violet thought she heard Ford emit a strange sound.

  A circle of wooden benches looked newly uncovered as well. Apparently he’d been busy. In the center, atop a stone sundial, a long tube sat balanced on three spindly legs.

  Ford gestured at it with a flourish. “The telescope.”

  “How nice,” she replied, hoping she sounded suitably impressed. But the telescope wasn’t exactly awe-inspiring. It was just a skinny, tarnished thing. Her hopes plummeted. This hardly looked like an object that could work magic.

  He set the torch in a nearby stand. “Quarter moon tonight,” he said, grasping the tube and maneuvering it to point in the moon’s direction.

  Curious, Violet moved closer. Over the fresh scent of recently cut plant life, she could smell something spicy. And a trace of scented soap. Patchouli, she decided, recalling the aroma from one of her mother’s vials. Some years ago, Father had arranged for a number of the minty shrubs to be brought from India. He’d planted them in his magnificent garden so Mum could distill the leaves.

  “A partial moon is fortunate for viewing.” Ford had closed one eye and focused the other through the tube. “A full moon can be too bright and make the stars around it fade.” He made a final adjustment. “Would you like to see?”

  “Me first!” Jewel said.

  Rowan jumped up and down. “No, me!”

  Jewel stepped in front of him. “Me!”

  “Well, normally I’d say ladies first,” Ford said, clearing his throat, ”but seeing as how Rowan suffered this afternoon, I think he should have the first peek. Hurry, though, or you won’t be able to see it.”

  Since Rowan was too short, Ford lifted him to the eyepiece. “Zounds,” Rowan breathed. “There are big, dark spots on it.”

  “They’re called craters.” Ford raised a foot to the pedestal of the sundial, settling Rowan on his knee with an ease that drew Violet’s scrutiny. She’d never imagined someone as vain and preoccupied with himself as the viscount would behave so naturally with children. ”What do you think of it?”

  “I wish to fly up there and visit.”

  “Me, too.” Ford laughed. “But I expect neither of us will get our wish.”

  Now Jewel was jumping up and down. “I want to see. Oh, please let me see!”

  “Very well.” Ford set Rowan down, then readjusted the telescope before lifting his niece. “Hurry, so Lady Violet can have a turn.”

  “Oooh,” Jewel said.

  “Why must she hurry?” Violet wondered. “The moon stays out all night.”

  “Yes, but the Earth moves, you see—it spins. That’s why we have night and then day. And because of the spinning, we’re moving relative to the moon, so it doesn’t stay in the telescope’s sight for very long.” He set his niece on her feet and waved Violet toward the instrument. “Your turn.”

  She stepped forward and put one eye to the end, closing her other eye like he had. “Oh,” she breathed. “Stars. Just look at all those stars.”

  “Can you see the moon, too?”

  “No, we must have spun out of range like you said.” Against black velvet, lights winked at her. White, and faint yellow, and the palest, most beautiful pink. A wonderland of stars.

  “Let me adjust it for you.”

  “Wait.” She was looking at a whole new world. Or a universe, to be more precise. “I’ve seen the moon,” she told him. “Not up close, but at least I’ve seen it. I want to look at the stars.”

  “But they don’t look much different through the telescope. They’re much too far away for the magnification to make a significant difference.”

  “But they’re beautiful,” she said. “Miraculous. What are they, really?”

  “Other suns. And some people think there are other planets around them, the same way our planet circles our sun.”

  The children were chattering behind her, probably planning an outrageous jest, but she couldn’t stop staring. She nudged the telescope a bit, and another group of stars burst into view. “‘There is an infinite number of worlds,’” she murmured softly under her breath, “‘some like this world, others unlike it.’”

  “A lovely way to put it.”

  Startled, she jerked back from the eyepiece. She hadn’t meant for him to hear that. “I didn’t put it that way myse
lf. I was quoting Epicurus.”

  “Who?”

  “A Greek philosopher.”

  She felt, rather than saw, him nodding beside her. “A forward-thinking man.”

  A smile twitched on her lips. “Very. He lived about three hundred years before Jesus Christ came to Earth.” She leaned close again, peering through the telescope. “Do you believe that there are other planets?”

  He laid a hand on her back. A warm hand that made a warmer shiver ripple through her. “I do.”

  Giggles erupted behind them.

  “My uncle thinks your sister is pretty,” Jewel told Rowan in a loud, confidential whisper.

  Rowan’s response was a disgusted groan.

  Violet stiffened, and Ford’s hand dropped from her back. “So,” he said a bit formally. “Should I adjust it on the moon?”

  “In a minute.” Of course he hadn’t meant anything by touching her, Violet told herself—he was a flirt, just like his niece. The awkward moment passed as she refocused on the sky. “For now, I’m enjoying the stars.”

  Just then, one of them streaked across her field of vision, and she made a silent wish.

  Give me the wisdom to write something worth reading…and the tenacity to publish it.

  Her first wish on a star.

  “Oh,” she breathed, “it’s magnificent.”

  Hearing the wonder in Violet’s voice, Ford relaxed and decided to ignore his niece’s careless comment. Violet probably hadn’t even heard; her velvet cloak had slipped to the ground, and she’d not yet bothered to reach for it. He stared at her arched back, encased in a snug green bodice. Simple and practical, but it didn’t hide the distinctly feminine figure underneath. Had she been wearing the same gown earlier today? He hadn’t paid any attention.

  Pretty or not, Lady Violet was even odder than he’d thought. She was still gaping at the sky, slowly shifting the telescope. “Wouldn’t you like to see the moon now?” he asked. After all, the stars looked much the same through the telescope as without it.

  “Lord Lakefield.” Rowan tugged on his breeches. “Lord Lakefield.”

  “You may have another turn in a minute. For now, your sister’s looking.”