by Lauren Royal
SEVENTEEN
FORD RECLINED in in elegantly carved chair at the Ashcrofts’ polished mahogany table, fighting the urge to pat his stomach. The supper had been exquisite, especially compared to the plain fare Hilda usually served.
“Thank you kindly for the invitation,” he told Lord Trentingham.
“Imitation?” The earl cocked his head. “It wasn’t common chicken,” he said, not unkindly. “The partridges in that fricassee were hunted today.”
“Darling,” Lady Trentingham said loudly, laying graceful fingers on her husband’s arm. Eschewing convention, she sat beside her husband rather than at the other end of the table. “Lord Lakefield was thanking you for inviting him to dine.”
“Yes,” Ford all but bellowed, since he was at the other end of the table, “it was quite a treat to spend an evening in the company of all your beautiful ladies.”
He couldn’t help but notice that Rose practically purred. “You’re quite welcome—” she began.
“Thank you for making my spectacles,” Violet interrupted. Her mother had seated her next to him. “This is the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she added, the words clearly from her heart.
Candlelight from the silver branches on the table glinted off the lenses shielding her eyes. “It was nothing,” he told her, meaning it. He’d made the eyeglasses as an experiment—to see if he could devise a lens to help her see her daily world as the telescope had helped her see the stars. He was pleased his idea had proven workable, and her happiness was an unexpected bonus.
Unexpected and more pleasing than he ever would have imagined.
As another experiment, he offered her his most charming smile, then dropped his gaze to her lips. When her cheeks flushed fetchingly pink, he was certain she was remembering their kiss.
Hmm. Perhaps he ought to continue this line of investigation. It could very well lead somewhere interesting.
He’d just have to be careful not to let it distract him…
“Are you finished, milord?”
“Pardon? Oh. Yes.” He cleared his throat and shifted to allow the maid to remove his plate. Was she Daphne or Dolly? He liked the way Lady Trentingham addressed servants like they mattered to her, and talked to them instead of just ordering them around, and listened to what they had to say. It was both unusual and admirable, and he was attempting to do the same. But the Ashcrofts seemed to have so many. He couldn’t remember this one’s name.
“Would you care for tea now, milord?”
“Um, yes. Please,” he said, feeling more and more like a half-wit. Darla? Was she Darla?
Some impression he must be making on Violet’s family. And though he hadn’t yet analyzed why, he did want to make a good impression.
They were neighbors, after all.
“Everything tasted so good,” Jewel said as another maid whisked away her empty Delftware plate.
Lady Trentingham smiled at his niece. “We’re glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart.”
In fact, Jewel had all but licked her plate clean. Though he knew Hilda’s cooking left much to be desired, Ford hadn’t realized he was starving his niece. It was humiliating.
She beamed at their hostess. “Your house is so pretty.”
“You’ve said that,” Ford told her. Six times.
Her gaze swept the magnificent molded ceiling, the gilt cornice, the heavily carved fireplace, the enormous flower arrangements set on every flat surface. “Well, it is pretty.”
Ford felt his shoulders tense. While Trentingham Manor was opulent beyond anything the Chases owned, Jewel didn’t have to keep saying it. She was making him out a pauper. Between the two of them, any hopes he had of impressing the earl and his wife were sinking fast.
“Milk, milord?” the maid asked. “Sugar?”
Ford nodded. ”Both, if you please.”
Dorothy? he wondered. Daisy? She set a small silver pitcher on the table.
“I have the sugar,” Rowan announced. As the boy passed the bowl along with a tiny silver spoon, Ford looked at him and wondered if he’d have been called Daisy were he born a girl.
Probably. Or Daffodil. Or Peony, perhaps.
Jewel tugged on the maid’s sleeve. “Dinah, can I have tea?”
“May I please have some tea,” Ford corrected her automatically. Dinah, he thought with relief.
“May I please have some tea?” his niece repeated obediently. “I love tea, but Uncle Ford doesn’t have any.”
Tea was still somewhat of a novelty and frightfully expensive; heaven knew he didn’t stock it at Lakefield House. Apparently Violet’s family could afford anything they wanted. And now, thanks to Jewel, they knew he couldn’t.
Violet leaned close. “Children rarely think before they speak,” she whispered sympathetically. “Rowan is no different.”
He knew that was true. But criminy, was his discomfort that obvious? Avoiding her gaze, he focused across the room on the Tudor linenfold paneling—painted white in the latest fashion—while he waited for his tea.
“Good heavens,” Lady Trentingham said. “I almost forgot to tell everyone the news. My maid Anne is getting married.”
“That’s wonderful, Mum.” Lily actually clapped her hands. “Is she wedding that coachman you introduced her to?”
“Of course. I knew they would suit.”
Rose sipped from her wineglass. “Her betrothed is from the Liddington estate, isn’t he? Where will they live?”
“Here, naturally. We’ll hire him on.” The countess laced her fingers together atop the mahogany table. “Anyone can replace a coachman, but I cannot do without Anne.”
“So that makes six matches for you this year?” Lily asked.
“Just so. But I introduced Lord Almhurst to Lady Mary Spencer last week, so I expect I’ll be up to seven soon.”
The maid arrived with the tea and poured. “Thank you, Dinah,” Ford said, hoping the Ashcrofts noticed how respectful he was of their servants. He lifted the absurdly small spoon and began shoveling sugar into his tea. Though he didn’t share his twin sister’s habit of eating dessert before the meal, he did share her sweet tooth.
“Seven weddings,” Rose said with an impressive sigh. “In case you haven’t heard, my lord, Mum is the unofficial matchmaker for all of Southern England.”
“I’ve introduced people from the North as well,” Lady Trentingham said a bit huffily.
“How admirable.” This talk of marriages was making Ford nervous, so he decided to change the subject. “What time shall I fetch you to go to the village tomorrow?” he asked Violet.
Her hands went to the frames of her spectacles. “Oh, I…well—”
“She cannot go,” Rose put in from across the table. “Mum has arranged for her to have new gowns fitted.”
Rose graced him with a wide smile, but although she had charming dimples, he didn’t find himself charmed. Odd, considering her tall, willowy beauty was reminiscent of Tabitha.
“Perhaps I can accompany Rowan instead,” she added. “I know how much he’s looking forward to the outing.”
“It won’t take the entire day,” Ford said. “The village is hardly a metropolis.” An understatement—Jewel would likely finish her shopping in twenty minutes. He spooned in more sugar—pure white sugar, he noticed, imported from the West Indies, no doubt. Another sign of the Ashcroft wealth. He turned back to Violet. “I can come by for you and Rowan in the afternoon, following your fitting.”
Behind her new lenses, her eyes clouded. “I—I…” She shifted on her petit point seat cover. “I’m not certain I’m ready to be seen in public,” she blurted. “With the spectacles, I mean. I know everyone will stare and ask questions. Perhaps after I’m more used to them—”
“You goose,” Rose interrupted. “Just take them off.”
Violet’s hands went protectively to the sides of her face, as though she were afraid her sister might snatch them off herself. “I like to see,” she said. “I don’t want to take them of
f.”
“If you’re going to insist on walking around with glass and metal on your head, then you’ll have to get used to people staring at you.”
“Rose.” Lady Trentingham’s tone was soft, but a warning nonetheless. “Our Violet prefers not to be the center of attention,” she explained to Ford.
“Please pass the sugar,” Lily asked sweetly.
“I’d like some, too,” Rose said. “Put it between us.”
Ford sent the sugar across the table. “How about if we go to Windsor, then?” he suggested to Violet. “It’s much bigger than the village. You’re unlikely to run into anyone you know there, and Jewel will find a larger shopping selection.”
Violet looked unconvinced, but Jewel’s eyes lit like green beacons. “Good idea, Uncle Ford.”
“But—” Violet started.
“Yes, it is a good idea,” Rose interrupted. “Except that will take all day, so Violet won’t be able to go. But as I said, I’ll be happy to go instead.”
“Rose.” Now her mother’s voice sounded more exasperated. “That won’t be necessary. I can send a note to Madame and reschedule the fitting for another day.”
“But—” Violet tried again.
“A perfect plan,” Lady Trentingham concluded.
EIGHTEEN
“HOLY HADES,” Rowan whispered. “Look at that thing.”
As they headed toward the river, Violet glanced at Harry walking in front of them, his bald head shining in the sun. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to hear.
“Hush,” she told Rowan. “You don’t want me to tell Mum you’re talking like that, do you?”
Having expected Ford, she’d been surprised when Harry had come to the door instead. Not that she was sure she wanted to go to Windsor at all. She did want to see the town, really see it, but…
She touched the metal frame of her spectacles. Faith, people would do more than stare. They would laugh at her, she knew it.
“But just look at that thing!” Rowan exclaimed.
Harry definitely heard that. He slowed so they could catch up, a crooked smile on his face. “I’d wager you’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, gesturing toward the dock.
“I certainly haven’t,” Violet agreed.
On the river, Ford and his niece were waving from the deck of a barge so old, she half expected it to sink before her eyes. Flecks of gold on its woodwork glistened, the last vestiges of gilding that must have once graced the elaborately carved boat. Once upon a time, she imagined, it had been a ceremonial vessel for someone very important—if not the king himself.
But now it must be a hundred years old if it were a day.
At least the sails still looked serviceable, if a bit tattered and gray. She waved back, and her brother did, too. Then she stopped and turned him to face her.
“Don’t say anything bad about it in front of them. Please.” She still remembered him asking Hilda for cherry tart, and she never knew what would come out of his mouth next to embarrass her. “Please,” she repeated.
“Bad?” Rowan’s green eyes looked incredulous. “It’s the most wondrous thing I’ve ever seen!” With that, he broke into a run and didn’t stop until he’d crossed the dock and leapt onto the ancient boat.
Violet was glad Harry’s old legs gave her an excuse to approach more slowly, since her fashionable high heels hampered her ability to run. She wasn’t used to wearing them. But at least, with her new spectacles, she was confident she wouldn’t trip over the uneven ground.
A crew waited aboard, three men she recognized as Ford’s coachman and outriders. As she lifted her peach satin skirts, Ford reached a hand to help her up. She smiled and put hers in it. “Good day, my lord.”
He grinned, his free hand gesturing at the blue, cloudless sky. “It is, my lady.” He dropped his voice as she stepped aboard. “You look lovely today, Violet.”
Her own free hand went reflexively to her spectacles. Though her new gowns weren’t ready, she was wearing her fanciest day dress and knew it was pretty. But she also knew she was not.
His fingers squeezed hers before breaking contact. “I hope you’ll enjoy the day.”
She nodded, trying to ignore the strange trembly feeling in her stomach. Or was it closer to the vicinity of her heart? No matter, it was only her nervousness—about Windsor, not about Ford. Ford had already seen her in the spectacles, so there was no reason to be nervous around him.
“I’m surprised you came by river,” she said with all the composure she could summon, “rather than by road.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” he replied, “and Windsor just a pleasant sail down the Thames. I thought the children would enjoy it.”
“They are already.” With whoops of joy, the two of them were chasing around the cabin perched in the barge’s center, jumping over ropes and racing around rigging as though the entire vessel were their playground.
Like Lakefield House, the boxy cabin could have used a coat of paint, but it was obvious the boat had once been elegant and impressive. “Wherever did you find this?” Violet asked.
“It came with the estate. Though a bit the worse for wear, she’s seaworthy, I assure you. Or riverworthy, in any case.”
“She’s magnificent.” Twirling slowly in a circle, Violet noted the rich details. Although spotless, the barge was old to the point of antiquity. Just the thought of riding on such a silly thing made her want to laugh. But in its own way, it was beautiful, too. “Are you going to fix her up?”
“Perhaps. I haven’t thought about it, really.” The boat started down river, and he led her to two chairs on the deck. “Sit with me?“ She did, and he took the other chair. “What do you fancy shopping for today?”
“There’s nothing I want. This is Jewel’s day.” They were a long way from Windsor yet, so she relegated her nerves to the back of her mind and stretched out, savoring the light breeze on her face and the warm sun dancing on her skin. And the company. She’d never thought she’d enjoy a gentleman’s company much, but Ford Chase was changing her mind.
The barge rocked gently as they made their way down the Thames. Father waved from the garden as they passed, and she waved in return, then stiffened.
Father had seen her. That meant other people could see her. Including neighbors.
Her gaze went wistfully to the cabin. “Can we go inside?”
“It’s a sleeping cabin—there’s nothing in there but a bed, so it’s not really suited for the two of us.” He raised a brow, a gleam in his eye, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. “Do you not enjoy the sun?” he asked.
“I worry for my complexion,” she fibbed. Her mother and Rose both worried about their complexions, but Violet had never cared a fig. “I much prefer rain.”
“Rain?” He looked at her as though she were daft, which accurately described how she was feeling at the moment. Then a smile tipped the corners of his mouth, and she knew he had caught her in the lie. “Fascinating. You really prefer rain to sunshine?” he asked, much too politely.
Seeing a man wander the riverbank, she rose and turned her back. “Well, I love rainbows,” she said, digging herself in deeper. “And since rain is needed for rainbows, I do prefer it.”
He grinned up at her. “I can make you a rainbow without rain.”
“Can you?” What an extraordinary notion!
“Absolutely. I will do so tomorrow. In the meantime…” With great exaggeration and a flourish, he gestured to her empty chair.
She sat back down, and Ford began talking about this and that. She was soon so engrossed in their conversation that she forgot all about her eyeglasses or being spotted wearing them. The sun warmed her skin, and though their journey was a leisurely one that covered several miles, the time passed quickly.
Too quickly. Before she knew it, they were docking at Windsor.
It was a busy town. Windsor Castle had suffered much damage during the Cromwell years, and King Charles was now enthusiastically refurbishing and expanding it, which mea
nt many laborers crowded the streets along with the town’s usual inhabitants. Wearing her spectacles here would be worse than just being the center of attention. More like being the center of the universe.
She pictured herself on a bustling cobblestone street, surrounded by tradesmen and gossipy matrons and children underfoot—all of them pointing and laughing at her.
When Ford took her hand to help her down from the barge, that nervous, trembly feeling returned in full, overwhelming force. Her heart stuttered.
Wrenching her hand from his, she pleaded a headache and bolted for the shady safety of the cabin.
NINETEEN
TWO HOURS LATER, the others returned to the barge.
“I’m starving.” Followed by the children, Ford stepped inside the cabin to drop off their latest purchases. “How are you feeling, Violet? Can I tempt you with a meal? I promise to take you into a nice, dark deserted inn.”
Violet heard the teasing in his voice and knew he knew she was a coward. He’d accompanied the children around town, where Jewel had purchased ribbons and a hat and a doll. For her birthday, Ford had bought her a lovely silver heart pendant. He’d also kindly bought Rowan some marbles fashioned from pretty stones, and they’d stopped at vegetable stands and a butcher, loading the barge with staples for Lakefield’s kitchen.
They’d made three trips back and forth, and in all that time, Violet hadn’t set foot out of the cabin.
Now the three of them crowded into the small space, their expectant gazes practically pinning her to the bed where she sat.
She bit her lip. Ford had been more than patient. The least she could do was be honest. “I’m sorry, my lord. But I just know people will laugh at me.”
“Will you stop my-lording me?” He swept off his hat and, in a gesture that was beginning to become familiar to her, raked his fingers through his long brown hair. “After yesterday,” he said in a low, discreet tone, “you should certainly have leave to call me Ford.”
