by Lauren Royal
What was happening to her?
“Let me see these spectacles,” her mother said, taking Violet’s face in her hands and turning it this way and that. “Do they really help you see?”
“Immeasurably. It’s quite a miracle. And worth looking hideous, I can assure you.”
“You look fine, dear.”
Now Violet did roll her eyes.
Her sisters stepped outside, both wearing new gowns they’d had fitted the past week while Violet had been at Lakefield House. Rose’s was a midnight blue brocade, the skirt looped up and caught on the sides with ice blue bows to show off the matching satin underskirt beneath. Embroidered lace trimmed her chemise, peeking from the scooped neckline and the cuffs of the fitted sleeves.
If not exactly practical, it was quite a lovely dress, and Violet could see every detail before her sister even came near. Absolutely a miracle.
“What is that dreadful contraption on your face?” Rose asked. Lady Tact.
“See, Mum?”
“You look fine,” Lily said. Her gown was a sunny yellow and quite lovely, too. It had a square neckline and a nutmeg-colored underskirt embroidered with yellow daisies.
“I don’t care how I look,” Violet told them all. “Only that I can see.” She turned to her mother. “When will my own new gowns be fitted?”
“Since when do you care about clothes?” Rose asked.
But Mum just beamed. “Tomorrow. I shall send a note to the seamstress forthwith.”
“Excellent,” Rose said. “And I’ll take Rowan to Lakefield tomorrow, since Violet will be busy.”
Last week, Violet would have been relieved to hear that. But now she was just annoyed.
“That won’t be necessary,” Mum said. “Violet can be fitted in the morning while Rowan has his lessons. She’ll be free by afternoon.”
Rose’s pout was so well done, it could earn her a part in a play at the Theatre Royal.
“Lord Lakefield said he would take us to the village for Jewel’s birthday tomorrow,” Rowan informed them. “Jewel has a lot of coins. May I try the spectacles?”
“If you’re careful.” When Violet gingerly removed them, her world went blurry. She handed them to her brother, and he slipped them on.
“I cannot see,” he said, scrunching up his nose and squinting through the lenses.
“Well, of course not. They’re for bad eyes, and your eyes are good.”
“Let me see,” Lily said. Rowan handed over the spectacles, and she held them up to her face. “Goodness, Violet, your eyes must be really bad.”
“Let me see,” Rose said, grabbing for them.
“Careful!” The metal frames were thin, and Violet didn’t want her new treasure broken.
“I won’t hurt them.” Rose slid them onto her face, then gasped. “Is this what things look like to you?”
“Probably. But not anymore.” She took the eyeglasses from Rose and happily settled them back in place, sighing as her view of the family cleared. “I don’t care what I look like,” she said again. “It’s just so wonderful to see.”
“Truly, you look fine,” Lily said kindly. “The spectacles suit your face somehow.”
Violet didn’t believe her, but she really didn’t care.
“Truly,” Lily repeated, and when she smiled, her teeth looked whiter and straighter than Violet remembered. “It was thoughtful of Lord Lakefield to make them, wasn’t it? He must be a very nice man.”
“And handsome,” Rose added.
“Yes,” Violet said. “We all know you think he’s handsome.”
“May Jewel come for supper?” Rowan asked.
Mum patted her son on the head. “A grand idea. We’ll send an invitation immediately. We all owe Lord Lakefield thanks for restoring Violet’s vision.”
“Eh?” her husband asked. “Did you say something about a decision?”
Mum set her hand on his arm. “I said vision, darling.”
“Hmmph,” he muttered half to himself as he plucked a dead head off a hollyhock plant. “The man of the house is traditionally involved in decisions.”
Seventeen
FORD LEANED AWAY from the Ashcrofts’ polished mahogany table, barely resisting patting his stomach. The supper had been absolutely delicious, especially compared to the unimaginative fare Hilda prepared and served.
“Thank you kindly for the invitation,” he told Lord Trentingham.
“Imitation?” The earl cocked his head quizzically. “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 right 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 of 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 delight was an unexpected bonus.
Unexpected and more pleasing than he ever would have imagined.
As another experiment, he offered her a lazy, seductive smile, dropping his gaze to her lips. When her cheeks flushed fetchingly pink, he was certain she was remembering their kiss.
Hmm…he would have to continue this line of investigation. It could very well lead somewhere interesting.
“Are you finished, milord?”
“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 devil take it, he hadn’t yet analyzed why, but 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 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 exquisite 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?”
“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 pulled 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; Lord 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 bloody hell, 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.
“Heavens,” Lady Trentingham said. “I almost forgot to tell everyone the news. My maid Anne is getting married.”
“Goodness, 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.”
“How many matches does that make for you this year, Mum?” Lily asked. “Six?”
“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 ridiculously small spoon and began using it to shovel 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.
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 fetching dimples, he didn’t find himself attracted. Odd, considering her tall, willowy beauty was very attractive, indeed.
“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 grab them off herself. “I like to see,” she said. “I don’t want to take them off.”
“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.” Chrystabel’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,” 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—egad, people were going to stare and ask questions.
“Father says holy Hades all the time,” Rowan muttered.
“And you can, too,” she said, keeping her voice low, “as soon as you’re grown and have children of your own.”
“But just look at that thing!” he 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 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 heavily 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 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 craft.
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.
He held onto her fingers a few moments more than necessary. “I hope you’ll enjoy the day.”
If the fluttering in her stomach was any indication, she was sure she would. When he released her hand, she felt a distinct loss.
“I’m surprised you came by river,” she said, “rather than by road.” An understatement if ever she’d uttered one, though suddenly the barge seemed like the most delightful mode of transportation.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he said, “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 had been designed as 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 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, will you?” She did, and he sat down beside her. “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 settled back, delighting in 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 man’s company much, but Ford Chase was changing her mind.
