by Lauren Royal
She hardly understood what he was talking about, but she didn’t care. Her head was buzzing. Ford had made her spectacles. And 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 winning smile of his, and she could see it all the way from where she sat.
“Oh, my word.” 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 was 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.
His laugh was merry and deep. “Let me at least make them fit.”
“No.”
“A minute, that’s all it will take.” His lips curved in a smile. “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 his unfocused form begin to manipulate the metal. “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 heady glint of intelligence she knew was there. He returned to 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 unconcerned 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 insides rebelled at the thought. “Oh, but it wasn’t useless at all. Look what you’ve done with that knowledge!”
He shrugged again. She couldn’t make out his expression. “My family would much rather see me improve this estate, instead of sinking all my income into research and experiments.” Finished, he stepped closer to put the spectacles back on her face.
“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 think they might be right. I should have renovated Lakefield ages ago. I’ve been living with my oldest brother far too long.”
He ran his fingers around her ears, making sure the sidepieces curved to fit. A little thrill whirled through her at the feather-light sensation.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
The way he looked at her made her breath catch. She bit her lip and nodded.
His hands still rested around the edges of her face. Warm fingertips lay along her jaw. “Can you see well now?”
She nodded again, gazing into his eyes, his beautiful blue 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 she’d only just met 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, her gaze dropped to his mouth.
He had a beautiful mouth, too. Suddenly, inexplicably, she wanted it on hers.
And even more suddenly it was.
His lips were soft and pillowy and quite unlike anything she’d ever felt before. And entirely different from how she’d imagined a kiss would feel…
A kiss?
She was being kissed.
Ford was kissing her.
Ford was kissing her.
She let out a little yelp, which must have startled him because he sprang away from her immediately. He looked as stunned as she felt, his vivid eyes hazy and unfocused—and gazing at her.
She didn’t like the attention so much anymore.
Clearing her throat, she looked down at the unvarnished floorboards. Of course he was stunned. A fellow would have to be daft to kiss a girl like her. Especially when she was wearing spectacles. Her hands went to the sides of her face, feeling the metal that hugged her ears. “I suppose I must look a fright.”
“No.” His voice was rough. She heard him clear his own throat. ”You look lovely, Violet. Your eyes shine like bronze beneath the lenses.” When she glanced back up, he appeared as surprised to have said the words as she was to hear them.
She knew he was just being nice. Which was, well, nice of him, but it left her in a swirl of confusion. Was it possible that he liked her, at least a little? Would he kiss her again?
Did she want him to?
It didn’t matter. Whatever had driven him to do such an absurd thing—such a ridiculous thing—was unlikely to ever recur.
“My eyes are brown,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely. She wasn’t lovely, and she didn’t like being lied to. If she’d been average-looking before, now, with the spectacles, she surely looked hideous.
“Your eyes look bronze to me,” he repeated, “though I’ve also thought they look like my favorite brandy. And truly the spectacles look fine. Better than fine.”
Much better than fine, Ford realized with a start.
After seeing her flushed with happiness and awe over his gift, he wondered how he’d ever thought her appearance was unremarkable. His sister often accused him of being oblivious, and for once he had to agree. Violet had a striking, unexpected beauty—and now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t unsee it.
He also couldn’t stop staring.
He wanted to kiss her again.
But he wouldn’t. The kiss had frightened her out of her wits. Having observed that rash behavior usually led to bad outcomes, he wasn’t usually given to impulse. The kiss had been no more than a momentary lapse. An isolated incident. He’d been temporarily overwhelmed by her tremendous delight, and his own pride in his work, and that infectious smile…
“Uncle Ford!”
Realizing he’d been unconsciously moving toward Violet, Ford straightened as the children came bounding into the drawing room. “What is it?” he grumbled, then cursed himself silently when his niece’s eyes turned misty.
He had to learn to be more patient. “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 still glowed with wonder, and Ford didn’t miss the fact that she’d finally called him by his given name. His forced smile turned genuine.
“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 digging into the skin beneath his shirt.
He didn’t mind having her pressed up against him, but he wished she would stop screaming.
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 wailed, 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.”
“Nonsense.” Ford stepped up to the window beside her. “Ignore the spider. Look at the clouds, Violet.”
“The clouds?” She looked up, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my word…”
Ford grinned, and as he watched the glow return to her face, he felt an answering glow inside himself.
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 hues 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!” Father cried, yanking Mum in for a kiss as though they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Normally Violet rolled her eyes at her parents’ shameless displays, not to mention Father’s cloying nickname for Mum. They were so sickly sweet together as to make her stomach turn.
Normally. But today, their affection only made Violet think of Ford.
And her first kiss.
A tingling weakness spread through her body. 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. They’re miraculous. 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 rich, dark green, the skirt looped up and caught on the sides to show off the bronze underskirt beneath. Flurries of lace trimmed her chemise, peeking from the scooped neckline and the cuffs of the fitted sleeves. With her shimmering hair and tall, willowy grace, she looked like some sort of ethereal wood nymph.
And Violet could see every detail before her sister even came near. Absolutely miraculous.
“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 leading role at the Theatre Royal.
“Lord Lakefield said he would take us to the village for Jewel’s birthday tomorrow,” Rowan informed them. “J
ewel 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 gentleman.”
“And handsome,” Rose added.
Violet gave an unladylike snort. “I thought you found him lanky.”
“He is lanky. Still and all, he’s handsome enough.”
For the second time in ten minutes, Violet rolled her eyes. It felt different behind the lenses.
Everything felt different.
“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.”