Violet (Flower Trilogy) (12 page)

Ford felt his shoulders tensing. 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 discomfiture that obvious? Avoiding her gaze, he focused across the room on the Tudor linenfold paneling—painted white in the latest fashion—and 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, is he not? Where will they live?’’

‘‘Here, naturally. We will 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?’’

‘‘Yes. 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 sighed. ‘‘In case you have not 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 pick you up to go to the village tomorrow?’’ he asked Violet.

‘‘Oh, well—’’ Her hands went to the frames of her spectacles.

‘‘She cannot go,’’ Rose put in from across the table.

‘‘Mum has arranged for her to have new gowns fitted.’’

She graced him with a wide smile, but although she had fetching dimples, he didn’t find himself attracted.

Odd, considering Rose’s type of 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.’’

‘‘ ’Twill not 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, another sign of the Ashcroft wealth. Imported from the West Indies, no doubt. He turned back to Violet. ‘‘I can pick you and Rowan up 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. ‘‘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.

‘‘ ’Tis a big place. You’re unlikely to run into anyone you know there, and Jewel will find much more of a shopping selection.’’

Violet looked unconvinced, but Jewel’s eyes lit like green beacons. ‘‘Good idea, Uncle Ford.’’

‘‘But—’’ Violet started.

‘‘Yes, it is,’’ Rose agreed. ‘‘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.’’ Her mother’s voice sounded more exasperated now. ‘‘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.

‘‘Holy Christ,’’ 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 instead, she’d been surprised when Harry had come to fetch them. 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 Christ’ 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, loud enough to wake up their father all the way back at the house.

Harry definitely heard that. A crooked smile on his face, he slowed so they could catch up. ‘‘I’d wager you’ve never seen anything like it.’’ He gestured 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.

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 pie, and she never knew what would come out of his mouth next to embarrass her. She supposed that being so much younger than the rest of the family, he’d been hopelessly spoiled. ‘‘Please,’’ she repeated.

‘‘Bad?’’ Rowan’s green eyes looked incredulous.

‘‘ ’Tis 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 with her new spectacles, she was confident she wouldn’t trip over the uneven ground.

Flecks of gold on the barge’s 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. 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 on to 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. She felt a distinct loss when he released her hand. ‘‘I’m surprised you came by river rather than by road.’’ An understatement if ever she’d uttered one, though it now seemed like the most delightful mode of transportation.

‘‘ ’Tis 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 use a coat of paint, but ’twas obvious the vessel 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, ’twas beautiful, too. ‘‘Are you going to fix her up?’’

‘‘Perhaps. I hadn’t thought of 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?’’

‘‘Nothing. 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 so 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 not go inside?’’

‘‘ ’Tis a sleeping cabin, with a bed—not really suited for two such as we.’’ 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 a half-wit, 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. ‘‘You prefer rain to sunshine?’’ he asked, much too politely.

Seeing a man wander the riverbank, she rose and turned her back to the shore. ‘‘Well, I love rainbows,’’

she said, digging herself in deeper and at the same time wondering why. ‘‘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?’’ He was the most extraordinary man!

‘‘Yes. I will do so tomorrow. In the meantime . . .’’

With great exaggeration, he raised a hand and gestured to her empty chair.

She sat back down and was soon so engrossed in conversation with Ford that she forgot all about her eyeglasses or being spotted wearing them.

But when they arrived at Windsor, she suddenly got cold feet and quailed at the thought of going ashore.

Wearing her spectacles, ’twould be worse than just being the center of attention—’twould be like being the center of the universe. She pleaded a headache and retired to the shady safety of the cabin.

She was still there two hours later.

‘‘I’m starving.’’ Followed by the children, Ford stepped inside to drop off their latest purchases. ‘‘If you’re feeling better, 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. Ford had kindly bought Rowan some marbles carved from pretty stones, and they’d also 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, and the least she could do was be honest. ‘‘I’m sorry, my lord. But I just know people will stare.’’

‘‘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 what happened yesterday’’—his voice deepened an octave, and he raised a brow as he met her eyes—‘‘you should certainly have leave to call me Ford.’’

‘‘Ford, then,’’ she said. He was right. And she was miserable.

Jewel tugged on her uncle’s sleeve. ‘‘What happened yesterday?’’

‘‘He gave me these marvelous spectacles,’’ Violet said before he could answer, although she knew he’d been referring to their kiss.

She’d been thinking about that kiss the whole time she waited on the barge. Reliving every little detail, until her lips tingled and the rest of her body, too. She’d alternated between wondering if he’d kiss her again and telling herself not to be ridiculous. He’d only been carried away by the success of his spectacles.