by Lauren Royal
“I know.” When Ford looked down, the boy’s smile looked as wide as the telescope was long. “Violet’s never seen the stars before.”
“Never?” Baffled, he ran a hand through his hair. “What do you mean?”
“She cannot see very well. She says they all just blur together.”
She straightened and turned to face them, her eyes glittering with joy in the torchlight. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for showing me a whole new world.”
The way she said it made Ford feel like he had given her the world, not just shown it to her.
The feeling was not unpleasant.
He eased her aside to adjust the telescope. “Here, now look at the moon.”
When she leaned to peer through the lens, he was rewarded with a gasp of discovery. “It’s a sphere,” she said. “I can see the outline. Even though it looks like a crescent.”
“Depending on our position, the Earth blocks part of the sun, so only a portion of the moon is illuminated. But it’s always a sphere, no matter how it appears to us.”
“Of course. I’ve just never thought of it before.”
When the moon disappeared from view, he pointed out some constellations—Libra down near the horizon and Pegasus up higher.
“My turn!” Rowan said, and Jewel chimed in. “Let us have a turn!”
Clearly reluctant to relinquish the instrument, Violet stepped back, and the children rushed to see.
“Can you show us a planet?” Jewel asked.
Ford scanned the dark sky. “None are visible at the moment. Another night.” But he showed them more constellations, and while they waited to take turns, he entertained them with the Greek and Roman myths that went with each configuration.
All too soon they heard the crunch of wheels on gravel announcing the Ashcrofts’ carriage had arrived. Violet let out a little unladylike groan. “Is it ten o’clock already?”
“May we come back tomorrow?” Rowan asked. “Can I go into the laboratory?”
Ford gazed at Violet, thinking about how the telescope had helped her to see, wondering if there might be a way to help her more permanently. “I’ve something that will keep me busy the next few days,” he said slowly.
“In your laboratory?” Rowan asked.
“Yes.” He turned to the boy. “If you’ll come to play with Jewel until I’m done, I’ll take you into the laboratory after I finish. We can do an experiment together.”
“An experiment?” Rowan’s eyes widened, and he did a funny little dance. “Can we really?”
“Will you be working on the watch?” Jewel asked.
“No, not the watch.” That could wait—it had waited ages already. Suddenly this new idea seemed much more important.
“Uncle Ford is making a special watch,” Jewel told her new friends. “One that tells the minutes.” She looked to Violet. “My Uncle Ford is very clever.”
“I’m sure he is.” Violet smiled at Ford, a smile that managed to transform her whole face. “Thank you for a fine evening.”
“You’re very welcome. I hope we can do this again.” Surprised by just how true that statement was, he smiled in return as he retrieved her cloak and settled it over her shoulders.
If she’d noticed she’d dropped it, or that she’d almost forgotten it altogether, her demeanor gave nary a clue. “I hope we can do it again, too,” she said with a last, lingering glance at the telescope. As she took her brother’s hand and began tugging him toward the carriage, that infectious smile still curved her lips.
It felt good, knowing he was the cause of that smile. Wanting to give rise to another one soon, Ford hoped he’d prove as clever as his niece thought.
As he watched the carriage roll away into the night, he lifted Jewel into his arms and pecked her on the cheek.
“What was that for?” she squealed.
“Nothing, baby.” It mystified him as much as her, but he would analyze the impulse later. “I just feel happy.”
“I’m not a baby,” she said. “Put me down.”
But she planted a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek before he did so.
FOURTEEN
“WHY AREN’T WE going today?” Rowan demanded.
When Violet looked up from the notes she was making at her delicate desk in the library, it took everything she had not to laugh at her little brother. She hadn’t seen a pout like that on him since he was about three years old.
But he wasn’t going to change her mind. “I told you—we’ve been there every day since we looked at the stars. Four days in a row, each afternoon we arrive like clockwork. We’re wearing out our welcome.”
The pout turned into a glare. “That’s not true.”
Of course it wasn’t. To the contrary, Violet was sure Ford was pacing the floors waiting for their arrival. Waiting for them to come entertain his niece so he could work on his blasted secret project.
Well, much as she liked children, she wasn’t a nursemaid, and she didn’t intend to take up the career now—never mind that it was a spinsterish thing to do. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ford since the night he’d shown her the stars. If he couldn’t even make the effort to stick his head out of that mysterious laboratory to say hello and thank her for occupying his niece, she was finished making the effort to help him.
Rose glanced up from her desk at the opposite end of the room, where she’d been conjugating Spanish words aloud, much to Violet’s aggravation. “Since you don’t like him,” Rose said, “I can take Rowan instead.”
“I like Rowan fine.”
“I meant the viscount. I was leaving you a generous window to take a fancy to the gentleman and get yourself married, but since you haven’t, I may as well—”
“You’re too young to take Rowan over there unchaperoned,” Violet said pointedly. She was sick of Rose always trying to marry her off. Generously. And though she knew she should feel relieved that Ford was ignoring her, she was annoyed to find herself vexed instead.
But she shouldn’t take that out on her sister. She looked up, examining the fuzzy pattern the dark molding made on the ceiling as she searched for her missing patience. “I’m sorry, Rose.” She sighed, wondering what was getting into her these days. “If Mum says you may go, you have my blessing.”
Rose snapped the Spanish book shut and ran off to ask their mother, Rowan galloping after her. Leaving Advancement of Learning and her notes on the desk, Violet stood and turned to peruse the library’s well-stocked shelves. But nothing new caught her interest. All she could think about was the viscount’s irritating lack of consideration.
“Lady Violet.”
She swiveled at the sound of the majordomo’s voice, noting he held a silver tray. “A letter, milady.”
“Father is out in the garden.”
“It’s for you.”
“Are you certain?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d received a letter.
Raising the parchment, Parkinson cleared his throat. “‘Lady Violet Ashcroft,’” he read off the back. “I believe that is you.” Handing it to her, he turned on his heel and left.
Annoyed all over again, she broke the seal and scanned the childish handwriting. Dear Lady Violet, she read, Why have you not brought Rowan today? Uncle Ford has something for you. Please come. Your friend, Jewel.
Astonished, she plopped back onto her chair. The nerve of him, asking a six-year-old to coax her into a visit. Uncle Ford has something for you. She could just imagine what—probably a nursemaid’s uniform.
“Violet, dear.” Mum swept into the library. “Why won’t you take your brother to play with his friend?” In a show of checking for dust, she ran a finger along the carved marble mantelpiece, then down one of the two supporting columns carved to look like palm trees. Her voice took on the prying tone that mothers must practice behind closed doors. “Did something happen yesterday?”
“Oh, Mum, nothing happened.” She was getting tired of Mum grilling her every time she came home from Lakefield
. What could possibly happen there that Mum would find noteworthy, anyhow?
“I would just like a day for myself,” Violet said. “Is that too much to ask?”
“Of course not, dear.” Mum focused on the letter still clutched in Violet’s hand. “What’s that?”
“A note from Jewel.” Violet tossed it onto the dark wood desk. Stark white in contrast, the paper looked entirely too conspicuous.
“How sweet. What did the girl have to say?”
She wouldn’t tell her mother that the viscount had something for her—news like that would escalate Mum’s maternal prying to record levels. An awkward silence stretched between them while Violet stared at the note, wishing it would disappear.
“Jewel was just asking me to bring Rowan,” she finally admitted. When she looked back up, a tilt of her mother’s head was all it took. “I guess I’ll go after all,” she said with a sigh.
“That’s my Violet,” Mum said.
And if her cheerful smile set Violet’s teeth on edge, she was determined not to show it.
FIFTEEN
JEWEL WAS WAITING on the steps when they arrived.
“Lady Violet!” she squealed, running down the long walk to meet the carriage outside the gate. “Just wait till you see what Uncle Ford has for you! He had to find rocks to make it.”
Rocks? Violet couldn’t imagine. What sort of gentleman made things from rocks and had a little girl write his letters?
A strange one—that much was certain.
“Perfect rocks,” Jewel clarified. “They had to be perfect.” She turned her attention to Rowan. “Tomorrow is my birthday,” she said, “and Uncle Ford promised he would take me to the village to spend my money. He said I could invite you and Violet.”
“What money?” Rowan asked.
“He pays me to be good. And not to cry. And other things.”
Rowan’s jaw dropped open. He turned to Violet.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said.
Jewel looked toward him sympathetically. “Will you come with us tomorrow? I have enough coins for us both.”
Violet wasn’t surprised. If Ford was willing to pay bribes, she had little doubt a girl as bright as Jewel could manipulate her way to a fortune.
“Rowan can bring his own money,” she said.
He tugged on her hand. “Does that mean we can go?”
“I suppose. Since it’s Jewel’s birthday.” She couldn’t imagine turning six years old and being away from home for her birthday. Birthdays were major events for a child. In the Ashcroft home, they were major events into adulthood. Her family was odd that way.
Well, not only in that way.
She wasn’t looking forward to her own imminent birthday.
“Oh, good!” Jewel’s face lit up. Violet was having second thoughts already, but who could deny that smile? She still wasn’t thrilled with this nursemaid arrangement, but at least it would be something different to do. She wouldn’t just be sitting here. And Ford wouldn’t be able to totally ignore her.
She hated being the center of attention, but a little attention would be nice.
“Come inside,” Jewel said, turning to head up the walk. She looped her arm through Rowan’s and leaned close. “I have an idea for a jest.”
Violet might have been half-blind, but there was nothing wrong with her ears. “I heard that,” she said.
Jewel started up the steps. “Heard what?”
“You’re planning a jest.”
Opening the door, the girl batted her long black lashes. “Who, me? You must have mis-mis—” She paused for a breath. “Mis-un-der-stood.”
Jewel’s tone was so innocent, Violet would have believed her had she not known her better. She bit back a smile. Faith, could it be she would miss the girl when she left? She knew Rowan would. Though Ford would only be relieved. She could tell he saw Jewel as little more than a bother—an unwanted distraction from whatever spectacular discoveries he expected to make in his laboratory.
But then the viscount came down the corridor and swept the girl into his arms…
And Violet knew she was wrong. His love for his niece was obvious. There for all to see, shining in his incredible blue eyes. “Have you found our friends after all, baby?”
“I knew they would come if I sent them a letter.”
“Did you think of that yourself?”
When Jewel nodded, Violet nearly failed to cover her gasp of surprise. Why, the little girl was even more resourceful than she’d imagined!
“That’s my clever Jewel.” Ford kissed her on the nose. “And I suppose you got Harry to deliver it?”
“He always does what I ask.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” With a wry grin, he turned to their guests. “Welcome,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “Please come in.”
“As you wish,” Violet murmured. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge him. Absorbed in noticing that he was even better looking than she’d remembered, she tripped over the threshold—and once again found herself in the viscount’s arms.
Curse her deficient eyes!
Not that she really minded her current position.
She couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to set Jewel on her feet before catching her, but he’d done so quite handily. He steadied her, then grinned. “This is getting to be quite a habit.”
“I’m sorry.” His hands felt warm on her shoulders. “I know I ought to be more careful.”
“Nonsense. I’m fond of catching you.”
That charming smile almost convinced her of his sincerity. But of course he didn’t enjoy catching her, or even being in her presence, for that matter—the fact that he’d ignored her four days running certainly proved that.
She not-so-subtly wrenched free of his hands. “Lady Jewel said you have something for me?”
“Did she?” He looked disappointed—as though he’d wanted to tell her himself. He turned to his niece. “What did you tell her?”
“Just that you made something from rocks. And I invited them to come with us tomorrow.” She grabbed Rowan’s hand. “Let’s go play in the garden.”
“Wait.” With an outstretched arm, Violet stopped her little 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. And if you’ll wait for me in the drawing room, I’ll bring the surprise.”
She watched the children run off in one direction and Ford in 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 gentleman had given her a surprise?
Never.
Unless she counted her father. Though 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. She twirled the end of her plait with a finger. 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 hard, 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, again, 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.
His brow furrowed. “Have you not heard of spe
ctacles? 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 closeness. “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 petite 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.”