Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  “Wait.” With an outstretched arm, Violet stopped her brother’s headlong rush. She looked to Ford. “Do you think we should let them go alone?”

  Ford shrugged. “I’ll send Harry after them,” he said. “And if you’ll wait for me in the drawing room, I’ll bring the surprise.”

  She watched the children leave in one direction and Ford go the other. The moment they were all out of sight, a little flutter erupted in her stomach. A surprise. When was the last time a man had given her a surprise?

  Never.

  Unless she counted her father, and most of his surprises involved flowers.

  Trying not to get her hopes up, Violet made her way through Lakefield’s now familiar corridor to the drawing room. She seated herself on the faded couch. She crossed her ankles. She uncrossed them. For the hundredth time since she’d met Ford, she told herself not to be ridiculous.

  It was becoming a litany.

  Although it seemed like an eternity, she didn’t wait long before he entered, breathing heavily, as though he’d run from one end of the house to the other. Which she supposed he must have.

  He wasn’t holding anything, though. Disappointment welled up inside her—which was ridiculous. Then he drew something from his pocket—something small—and held it out, almost shyly.

  “I made this for you,” he said.

  She took it from him, turning it in her hands. Hardly a thing of beauty, it was two round, clear pieces of glass framed by some sort of wire. A little bridge connected them, and there were metal sticks on both sides.

  Puzzled, she looked up.

  “Spectacles,” he said. He slid onto the couch beside her, acting friendly, familiar.

  What little composure she had left completely fled.

  At her lack of response, his brow furrowed. “Have you not heard of spectacles? They’re sometimes called eyeglasses.”

  That jarred her out of her haze. Spectacles. Her mouth dropped open, and her breath caught in her chest. “I—of course I’ve heard of them, but…”

  More words wouldn’t come.

  “Would you like to try them on?”

  “I…thank you,” she breathed.

  She truly was thankful. This was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her. But the sad truth was, she knew the spectacles were useless.

  She bit her lip. “I…I can read just fine. I know Rowan told you I cannot see very well, but it’s the distance that’s a blur. Printed pages look clear as water. But I sincerely appreciate—”

  “No.” She’d expected him to look disappointed, but instead he grinned. “These aren’t for reading, Violet.”

  “They’re not?” Thrilled as she was at his unexpected thoughtfulness, her brain seemed to be muddled, not half because of his close proximity. “What are they for, then?”

  “Spectacles for reading have convex lenses—they get fatter in the middle. These are concave, the opposite. The edges are thicker than the center. They’ll help you see in the distance.”

  As she digested what he was saying, her hands began shaking. “What is all this metal?”

  “Silver. To hold the lenses on your face. For reading, when a body is still, it’s fine to hold a lens or balance a pair on your nose. But after I made these, it occurred to me that you may want to wear them and move around. So I devised the sidepieces to rest on your ears and hold them in place.”

  He scooted even closer, so close she could smell his clean spicy scent. It made her light-headed. Gently he took the spectacles from her hands, narrowing his eyes as he gauged them compared to her features. “I’ll probably need to adjust them. You’ve a smaller face than I thought.”

  She’d never thought of herself as small—any part of her. Lily was the small one.

  And she’d never, ever thought she might be able to see like a normal person. “May I try them on?” she asked, struggling to steady her voice.

  “Please do. I suspect I may have to play with the lenses as well, to give you optimal vision. The degree of concavity affects the amount of correction.”

  She hardly understood what he was talking about, but she didn’t care. Her head was buzzing. This man had made her spectacles. He was handsome and generous and warm.

  He lifted her chin with a finger, and she obediently raised her face, holding her breath while he fit the contraption in place. It felt strange there, perched precariously. She closed her eyes against the sensation.

  When she opened them, Ford rose and stepped back—and he was still in focus.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed, unable to tear her gaze from his face.

  He stepped yet farther away…and she could still see him. He smiled that devilish smile of his, and she could see it all the way from where she sat.

  “Oh, my.” Suddenly she was looking everywhere. “I can see the bellpull!” she exclaimed, “and the clock across the room.” He had clocks all over his house, and this chamber was no exception. “I can read the time! On that clock, and that one, too!”

  It seemed a miracle. She stood, walking on shaky legs to the window. With the spectacles on, she felt taller than before and nearly tripped.

  Nothing had changed there, but it only made her laugh.

  “Look.” She leaned her palms on the windowsill, aghast at the beauty of the world. “I can see it—I can see everything! The clouds and the flowers and the leaves on the trees. Each individual leaf.”

  “They’re working for you, then,” his voice came from behind her. “But odds are I can make them even better. We’ll have to figure out whether more or less concavity will be optimal, and then, with a day or two to remake them, I can—”

  “No.” She whirled to face him. “You’re not taking these away from me.” She put her hands to the frame, tilting the spectacles crazily.

  He laughed, a deep sound of pleasure. “Let me at least make them fit.”

  “No.”

  “A minute, that’s all it will take.” His lips curved with amusement. “I left the sidepieces straight, you see? If I bend them around your ears, they’ll stay in place better.”

  “A minute?”

  His eyes met hers, that brilliant, compelling blue. Something flip-flopped in her stomach. “One minute,” he promised.

  Reluctantly she released the spectacles, and he slid them off her face. The world immediately blurred.

  She hugged herself, a little thrill running through her as she watched him manipulate the metal. “Faith, what a difference they make. Jewel said something about you needing to find rocks. Perfect rocks. What did she mean by that?”

  “I took her up into the hills, hunting for quartz for the lenses. Rock crystal.” He glanced up briefly, and she wished she could see his eyes better, see the heart-stopping glint she suspected was there. He refocused on his task. “Perfectly clear quartz is difficult, but not impossible, to find.”

  “They’re not glass? They’re called eyeglasses.”

  “True.” He smiled as he worked. “But plain glass doesn’t have the properties needed for optical lenses.”

  “How did you know that?”

  Making a final adjustment, he shrugged, an almost elegant tilt of his shoulders. “My brothers would tell you I’ve wasted countless hours filling my brain with useless facts, when I could have been doing something productive.”

  Her heart lurched at that thought. “Oh, but it wasn’t useless at all. Look what you’ve done with that knowledge!”

  “My family wouldn’t agree with you.” Finished, he stepped closer to put the spectacles back on her face. “They would much rather see me improve this estate, instead of sinking all my income into research and experiments.”

  “They just don’t understand you, then.” She could relate to that, since her family rarely understood her.

  “You’re generous to say so. Especially since I’m beginning to see they’re right. I should have renovated Lakefield a decade ago. I’ve been living with my oldest brother entirely too long.”

  He ran his
fingers around her ears, making sure the sidepieces curved to fit. A little thrill rippled through her at the contact.

  “Comfortable?” he asked.

  The way he looked at her made her breath catch. She swallowed hard and nodded.

  His hands still rested on her face. Warm fingertips danced beneath her jaw. “Can you see well now?”

  She nodded again, gazing into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, realizing she was close enough to see them without the lenses. So close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’ve changed my life.”

  With all her heart, she meant it. This incredible man had given her the most amazing gift. And now he was looking at her, really looking at her.

  She was the center of his attention.

  Blinking at that thought, she dropped her gaze to his mouth.

  He had a beautiful mouth, too. Suddenly, inexplicably, she wanted it on hers.

  And suddenly it was.

  His lips were warm and soft, much softer than she’d imagined a man’s lips would be. They brushed hers once, twice, then settled more firmly, caressing her mouth with a skill that sent a shiver of delight coursing through her. His hands were still cupping her face, and they threaded into her hair.

  She had no idea what madness had possessed him to kiss her, but she didn’t want him to stop. Instinctively, her arms came up to loop around his neck, and she pressed herself closer. He felt hard and strong against her, her body on fire wherever they touched.

  Faith, she wanted to melt right into him.

  The pleasure was so unexpected, a mind-numbing, delicious sensation. A little whimper escaped her throat, and suddenly, thrillingly, his mouth slanted more hungrily over hers. His fingers tightened in her hair, and her pulse raced in response.

  Then he pulled away, a dazed half-smile curving his lips, his vivid eyes a little hazy. He looked as stunned as she felt.

  She shook herself, an ineffective attempt to clear her head. Of course he was stunned. A man would have to be daft to kiss a woman like her. Especially when she was wearing spectacles.

  But that didn’t stop her from wishing he’d do it again.

  “That was…amazing,” he murmured.

  “Yes. Well.” She looked down at the unvarnished floorboards. Amazing. What had he meant by that? Her hands went to the sides of her face, feeling the metal that hugged her ears. “I suppose I must look a fright.”

  “No, Violet.” His voice was a husky rasp. “You look lovely.” When she glanced back up, he appeared as surprised to have said the words as she was to hear them. “Your eyes shine like bronze beneath the lenses.”

  She was still feeling dizzy, still wishing she could lean against him again and feel his mouth on hers once more…

  But she knew it wouldn’t happen. Whatever had driven him to do such a ludicrous thing—such a ridiculous thing—was unlikely to ever recur.

  “My eyes are brown,” she said bluntly. She wasn’t lovely, and she didn’t like being lied to. If she’d been average-looking before, now, with the spectacles, she was sure she looked hideous.

  “Your eyes look bronze to me,” he repeated, “though I’ve also thought they look like brandy. My favorite brandy. And you look fine. Better than fine, in fact.”

  Better than he’d thought, Ford realized with a start.

  Enchanted by her delight with the spectacles, he’d acted without thinking. The kiss had been impulsive. And enjoyable…much more enjoyable than he’d ever have imagined.

  Now, seeing her flushed with happiness, from his gift or his kiss—he wasn’t sure which, but he hoped it was both—he wondered how he’d ever thought she was plain. His sister often accused him of being oblivious, and for once he agreed. Violet’s unique beauty sent the blood pumping through his veins.

  He wanted to kiss her again.

  Never a man to deny himself pleasure, he began to reach for her—but the children came bounding into the drawing room.

  “Uncle Ford!”

  “What is it?” he grumbled, then cursed himself silently when his niece’s eyes turned troubled.

  He had to learn to be more patient. Jewel hadn’t meant to keep him from enjoying another kiss. Children and romance simply didn’t mesh—another one of the many reasons he was in no hurry to have any of his own.

  He sucked in a breath. “What is it?” he repeated, forcing his lips to curve in a smile.

  She smiled back. “There was a spi—”

  “What is on your face?” Rowan interrupted, staring at his sister.

  “Spectacles. Ford made them for me.”

  Behind them, Violet’s brandy eyes glowed with wonder, and Ford didn’t miss the fact that she’d finally called him by his given name. The single word made him glow inside to match.

  “What for?” Rowan asked.

  “So I can see better.” The glow spread to encompass her entire face. “I can see things all the way across the room.”

  “Oh.” Hands behind his back, the boy rocked up on his toes. “That’s good. But they look odd.”

  “They look better on her than on me,” Jewel said. “Uncle Ford used my face to test different ideas. I think we tested about eleventy of them.”

  Violet grinned. “Eleventy, hmm?”

  “Jewel.” Rowan made a funny sound in his throat. “Remember? Remember what we were going to tell them?”

  “Gads, I forgot!” She paused for effect. “You won’t believe what happened!”

  “What?” Ford and Violet said together.

  “We found a spider in the garden. A big, fat, hairy one. Rowan saved me from it,” she added, beaming at said savior.

  “Did he?” Violet said very solemnly.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Struggling to keep a smile from his face, Rowan whipped his hand out from behind his back. “Look.”

  Violet screamed. And screamed some more. Then she turned to Ford and buried her face against his cravat, so hard he could feel the metal frame of the spectacles biting into the skin beneath his shirt.

  She was a nice, warm armful, but he wished she would stop trembling.

  The spider really was quite impressively enormous. “Get that out of here,” he told her brother.

  “But it’s dead. It cannot hurt anyone.”

  Jewel erupted in giggles. “Yes, Uncle Ford, it’s dead.” She turned to her accomplice. “I told you it would work. I could tell your sister is lily-livered.”

  “I am not,” Violet said, her voice muffled against Ford’s front. As if to prove her bravery, she turned to look, then promptly reburied her face.

  Knowing his niece well—or rather, assuming she was like her prank-playing father—Ford sent her a warning glance. “Just get it out of here, will you?”

  “Oh, very well.” Still giggling, Jewel went to open a window and motioned Rowan over to toss the creature outside. “But it really cannot hurt anyone.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt anyone were it alive, either,” Ford said. “It’s not a deadly sort.” Somewhat reluctantly, he coaxed Violet out of his arms. “But that isn’t the point.”

  “It was ugly,” Violet said with a nervous giggle of her own.

  She walked to the window and peered at the dead spider dangling ungracefully from an overgrown bush. A delicate shudder rippled through her.

  “I can see very well,” she declared, “and that is quite the ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Perhaps these spectacles aren’t such a good idea, after all.”

  Sixteen

  WHILE ROWAN RAN for the house, anxious to tell their mother all about Lady Jewel and the spider, Violet alighted from the carriage, still looking about in wonder.

  The world was magnificent. She wandered around the side of the mansion, stunned by the splendor of her father’s exquisite flowers. Such brilliant colors, such delicate petals. She’d seen them before, of course, but only in her own hands or leaning down close. The gardens overall had been blurs of color, never this entire panorama of perfect shapes and rainbow h
ues stretching into the distance. And, oh, the subtle details were wondrous.

  Oblivious to her approach, her father knelt by some roses, patting mulch into place. She touched him on the shoulder. “You’ve done a spectacular job here, Father.”

  “Eh?” Engrossed, he didn’t look up. “What did you say?”

  Sighing, she raised her voice a notch. “Your flowers are beautiful.”

  “So are you, dear,” he said automatically, rising from his knees. At the sight of her, he froze. “Violet. What have you done to your face?”

  She grinned. “They’re spectacles, Father. Lord Lakefield made them for me.”

  He blinked. “What do they do?”

  “Besides make me ugly?” Despite that fact, a smile bloomed on her face. Throwing her arms out wide, she spun in a circle, looking at everything at once. “I can see, Father! I can really see!”

  In her exuberance, she’d yelled it, and he’d certainly heard. When she stopped twirling, he gathered her into his arms—something he hadn’t done in quite a while.

  He hugged her hard before pulling back, then searched her eyes with his. “Can you see everything? Just like me?”

  “Everything.” She knelt by his flowers. “This red rose, and that yellow one in the distance. And the hedges over there, and the rowan tree by the river.” She rose, turning slowly this time, savoring the incredible view. “I cannot wait for tonight to look at the stars.” Facing the house, she stopped. “I can see Lily smiling behind the window.” She waved merrily, grinning when her sister waved back.

  “Violet!” Rowan came running out, their mother trailing behind. “I told Mum about your spectacles, and she wants to see them!”

  “Chrysanthemum!” her father said enthusiastically, going to kiss the woman as though they hadn’t seen each other for a week. Normally Violet rolled her eyes at her parents’ uninhibited affection, not to mention Father’s absurd habit of calling Mum Chrysanthemum instead of Chrystabel. It was so sickly sweet it made her stomach turn.

  Usually. But today, watching them kiss, Violet could only think of her own kiss a little while ago. Her first kiss. A tingling weakness spread through her body.