Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  Standing before her dressing table, she peered into the mirror and straightened one of the bright green ribbons that Margaret had woven through her hair. She squinted and moved closer, removing her spectacles. Shouldn’t there be fresh lines around her eyes? A new sophistication in her features? As she thought about the bed on the barge, a melting heat spread from her middle down her legs, making her sit suddenly on the tufted velvet stool.

  When a knock came at her door, she shoved the spectacles back on. “Come in.”

  The door opened a crack. “Violet?”

  “Yes, Mum.” She swiveled on the stool to face her. “Is it already time for the celebration?” A glance at the clock on her mantel—an old one with just a single hand—told her only in the vaguest terms. “It would be nice to have one of Ford’s new watches, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would. And yes, it’s time.” Mum came in, closing the door behind her. “I’ve come to tell you that your father spotted Ford’s barge heading down the river.”

  “That silly barge again?” Memories flashed of last night on that barge, and her face heated.

  “Are you quite all right, dear?” Oh, no. Could Mum tell? Just by the blush on her cheeks? “You’ve been hiding up here all day,” she added, much to Violet’s relief.

  Violet forced a laugh. “You know we older women take longer to get ready. To create the illusion of youth.” She rose and wandered to the window, nervous about seeing Ford, half surprised he was still coming after she’d refused his proposal last night.

  The barge hadn’t arrived yet. “I’m fine, Mum. It’s only that these fancier gowns take forever to get on properly.”

  Clearly not falling for those excuses, her mother joined her at the window. “Did something happen last night? I waited up for you, but you went straight to bed without saying goodnight.”

  “Well…”

  Violet had never hidden things from her mother—at least not anything that counted. But there were some things one didn’t share. She could come clean with part of it, though.

  She paced back to the center of her room, more comfortable with some distance. “Ford asked me to marry him.”

  Chrystabel turned to face her, hope in her eyes. “And what did you say?”

  “I told him no,” Violet said, and watched that hope fade.

  Regret filled her heart. Faith, she wished she’d said yes. At the moment she’d refused him, she’d been feeling closer to him than she’d imagined possible. Closer to him than she’d felt to any other person ever. She’d wanted to believe his offer was from the heart, that he loved her as he claimed, unreservedly.

  More than anything, she’d wanted to say yes. A loud, enthusiastic yes.

  But he’d just finished seducing her, after all. Having taken her maidenhead, only a bounder would fail to offer a wedding in return. So all she could think at the time was that his offer hadn’t come from the heart—that it had come from duty instead. That she would be foolish to believe their lovemaking had changed anything.

  “I told him no, Mum,” she repeated. “Don’t you see? I want a marriage like you and Father have, or none at all.”

  “What makes you think you wouldn’t have that with him?”

  She wished she could explain it, but it was all too confused in her head. Maybe she could have that with him. She just didn’t know for sure, and until she did…

  Mum was gazing at her, waiting for an answer. An answer she didn’t have. “You and Father won’t make me marry him, will you?”

  “I’m a good judge of people,” Mum said quietly, “which is why I’m so good at arranging marriages. I believe Ford is a good man. I also believe that he truly loves you. I’ve seen it in his actions and on his face. However, your father and I would never make you marry anyone. I thought you knew that.”

  Tears sprang to Violet’s eyes. She felt relieved and frustrated all at once. A tiny part of her wished her parents would make her marry Ford, but that wasn’t the thinking part, the part of herself she trusted.

  “Your father and I raised you girls to think for yourselves,” Mum continued. “A folly for which we’ve suffered ridicule all our days. But the Lord knows, after all these years, we’d be fools to make you do anything now. You’re not likely to put up with it, and your sisters would stand beside you.”

  Despite Violet’s mood, a crooked smile curved her lips. No matter their constant bickering, her sisters would always be there for her. It was comforting to know some things never changed.

  Tomorrow all this fuss over turning twenty-one would be finished. And now that she’d refused his proposal, soon enough Ford would leave for London, probably not to return for months or years.

  Everything would go back to the way it had been—except for Violet herself.

  Mum turned back to the window. “He’s here. No, they’re here.”

  “Who?” she demanded. “Mum, have you invited someone without telling me?” She didn’t even want to see Ford today, and not only because she was sure she’d feel awkward with him after last night. She didn’t want to face anyone but her family on this, the official first day of her spinsterhood.

  “I would never have invited anyone else without asking you first. But there are others on the barge, too.”

  “Harry,” Violet said with not a little relief. “And the stable hands.” She headed for the window. “He uses them as crew—”

  She broke off, staring toward the river.

  “Egad,” she breathed. Horror struck her heart. “Who are all those people?”

  Fifty-One

  BY THE TIME she made it downstairs and into the gardens, Violet was shaking—from frustration, anger, fear, or maybe a combination. She wasn’t sure. But when she saw Ford, she stopped and stared.

  A little girl rode on his shoulders, a little boy hung on his leg, and a baby lay cradled in his arms.

  Her heart suddenly hurt. He would make such a good father. And God knew—she knew after last night, she mentally amended with a blush—she would certainly enjoy making babies with him.

  Her mother was right. She should have said yes.

  The shaking stopped, replaced by trembling of another sort. If only he would still have her, she would say yes. And she wanted to tell him that now. Whoever they were, she wanted all of these people gone. Despite her fears of awkwardness with Ford, she wanted to talk to him. She needed to know if she’d ruined her chances last night—

  “Violet!” Spotting her, Ford came closer with an apologetic smile, dragging the clinging little boy behind him. “This is my family.”

  His family. If she’d been thinking clearly at all, she would have realized that, of course. He proceeded to introduce everyone, and she smiled and exchanged pleasantries, trying to memorize names and faces.

  The two dark-haired men were his older brothers, the redhead his twin sister. Although Ford was the only one of the four siblings blessed with those incredible blue eyes—the rest had eyes of green—they all bore a marked resemblance to one another, and she thought she might be able to keep them straight.

  Their spouses and all those children, however, were another matter altogether.

  And she wanted to make a good impression. Suddenly that seemed very important.

  “Are those spectacles?” one of the women asked. The raven-haired one. Egad, who was she?

  Disgusted with herself, Violet removed the eyeglasses and forced a smile. “They are. Ford made them for me and designed these frames to hold them on my face.” She handed them to the lovely amethyst-eyed lady. “The members of the Royal Society were all very impressed.”

  As had happened at Gresham College, they passed the spectacles around, exclaiming over them and trying them on and praising Ford for his brilliance. Watching with a plastered-on smile and a sinking heart, Violet realized she couldn’t remember who anyone was except Jewel. Too many names, too many faces. Too many people at a party that was supposed to have been private.

  She wasn’t happy about that, but she was
happy to be by Ford’s side. Belying her expectations, he was treating her with the same mix of teasing respect he always had. Perhaps he did still want her.

  She needed to know. She wanted nothing more than to slip away and lose herself in his arms. She wanted to tell him she would be honored to become his wife. But his family was here. And hers.

  The sun was hurting her eyes, or maybe it was all these people making her head ache. Her blurred gaze wandered to the summerhouse. One of the doors stood open, and it looked blessedly dim and peaceful inside. Maybe…

  Her mother rang a bell, and everyone looked to her. “My husband wishes to speak,” she called.

  Egad, Violet thought, Father was going to embarrass her in front of Ford and all his family.

  One of Ford’s sisters-in-law returned her spectacles, and she shoved them back on her face. Everyone began moving to where her father stood by a table covered with a bright white cloth. As they walked, Ford slipped an arm around her waist, and she glanced around to see who might have noticed, catching the eye of one of his brothers. Jason or Colin? Whoever he was, he winked at her, and despite everything, a smile burst free on her face.

  With all her heart, she wanted Ford’s family to like her.

  When her father cleared his throat, she turned.

  “Due to the terms of my own father’s will, the age of one-and-twenty holds unusual significance in our family. And I’ve two special surprises,” he announced, “to celebrate our Violet’s birthday.”

  Theatrically he whipped off the cloth, revealing a table covered in an artistic arrangement of fruits and fancy sweets, plus one homely cherry tart set off to the side.

  “A pineapple?” Lily gasped, staring at the centerpiece, a prickly brown fruit raised on a pedestal. “Is it real? Wherever did you get a pineapple?” Pineapples were so rare in this part of the world, King Charles had had himself painted with one.

  “May I try it?” Rowan yelled. “Oh, please, please!”

  “Please, please!” four other children echoed, taking up the chant. “Please!”

  “There isn’t enough for everyone,” Ford said loudly, sweeping his siblings with an accusatory glance before looking back to the young ones. “You weren’t invited here, remember?”

  “Nonsense,” Father said. “Yes, it is real, and yes, everyone may try it. A bite, at least. But first”—he paused and looked toward the door—“here comes the second surprise.” Four housemaids and two footmen approached, each holding a thick green bottle in one hand and stemmed glasses in the other. “The new French champagne. Who will have a taste?”

  “Me!” Rowan yelled. “Me! Me!”

  “Me! Me!” Ford’s nephews and nieces joined in.

  “You’re too young,” Rose told Rowan. “Champagne is too costly to water down.”

  Father looked to Mum. “Wash her gown in champagne?”

  “Water down the champagne, darling. But we won’t be doing that.” Mum scanned the gathering. “Rowan may certainly have a taste,” she announced, “as may any other children whose parents agree.”

  The maids poured while the footmen bore the esteemed pineapple back to the kitchen to be sliced.

  Father handed the glasses around and raised his in a toast. “To our Violet, on the anniversary of her birth.” The center of attention, Violet felt her face burn. “May she live in health and happiness another one-and-twenty years times four.”

  “Hear, hear,” everyone said, smiling in her direction.

  Whoever they all were.

  She looked down and took a cautious sip. “It’s like drinking stars,” she breathed. She’d never tasted anything like it. It tickled the back of her throat.

  Rowan spewed his mouthful onto the grass. “Zounds, I’ve got bubbles up my nose. Ick.” Violet cringed at her brother’s lack of manners, but at least no one had to worry about him drinking too much, since he immediately set down his glass.

  “It’s an acquired taste,” a man told him. The golden-haired one. Trick, Violet remembered, congratulating herself.

  Well, that was one memorable name.

  Lily looked awed. “Have you tried it before?”

  He nodded. “It’s all the rage at court.”

  “Have you been to court, then?” Rowan asked.

  Jewel elbowed him. “Of course he has, you goose. He’s a duke!”

  Rose sighed. “I’ve never been to court. Father won’t allow it. He says it isn’t a place for nice, unmarried girls.”

  “A wise decision,” Ford said dryly. He dropped his voice to whisper in Violet’s ear. “The bucks there would have an innocent like her for supper.”

  Though she suspected Rose could handle herself, her eyes widened at this news.

  “Have you never been, either?” he asked.

  Sipping the sparkly drink, she shook her head. “Is it beautiful?”

  “Whitehall is magnificent. Court itself can be amusing or boring, depending on who deigns to show up that particular day. But I was raised with the court in exile…I imagine you would find it exciting.”

  She’d felt more at home among the Royal Society than she’d expected. “Maybe now that I’m twenty-one, Father will take me someday.”

  “I was thinking I could take you,” he said with that devilish smile. “After we’re wed.”

  He sounded terribly confident, which normally would have irked her. But this time, her heart sang instead. Despite her refusal last night, he hadn’t given up on her. Held captive by his gaze, she remembered how it had felt to lie with him, skin to skin, heart to heart. A rush of warmth shuddered through her.

  She wanted to tell him yes. Here. Now. Her gaze went wistfully to the summerhouse again, but this was no time to sneak away, not while she was the center of attention.

  Yet she was dying to tell him, and if he had whispered a private message to her, she could do the same…

  She leaned up on her toes. “Ford—” she began quietly.

  “The pineapple!” Rowan squealed, and the moment was lost. They all turned to see a footman approaching, bearing a silver bowl filled with small cubes of yellow fruit. “I hope I like it better than the champagne,” Rowan said as the man put it down.

  “Have you tried this already?” Rose asked Trick.

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  “I’ve seen pineapples before at parties, but only as a decorative centerpiece,” Ford’s sister said. “I suspect someone is making a fortune renting the things so people can impress their friends.”

  Mum laughed at the idea. “Do you expect they actually spoil before anyone eats them?”

  “I imagine so,” said one of those dark-haired brothers. Jason, Violet thought as he curved his arm around the waist of the sister-in-law that had long tawny hair. “From what I understand, most of them rot on the way from the islands. But this one looks perfect.”

  “I hope it is,” Father said. “I’ve heard it said that if I dry the crown for a couple of days, I may be able to plant it and grow pineapples, providing I can keep the bush warm during the winter. They’re supposed to have pink flowers that look like a pine cone.” He lifted the bowl and held a spoon out to Ford. “As our guest, will you honor us by trying it first?”

  “But this is Violet’s day.” Ford took the spoon, scooped up a cube, and moved it toward her lips.

  He’d fed her in the piazza at Gresham, and now, as then, it seemed a most intimate act. Her gaze darted around to see how their families were reacting, but everyone just looked expectant. And the moment the fruit touched her tongue, she forgot to be self-conscious. Flavor burst in her mouth.

  “Oh my,” she said, chewing slowly. “It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted!”

  Everyone else scrambled to try it.

  “Do you like it?” Violet asked Rowan.

  He grinned, yellow pulp in his teeth. “It’s much better than champagne.”

  “Now, that I’m not so sure of.” Lily daintily sipped from her glass. “The champagne is light and deliciou
s, while the pineapple is sweet but…”

  “Acidic?” Ford suggested.

  “Well, I’m not exactly certain what that means, but it sounds about right.”

  He smiled and grabbed a bottle to refill her glass. “Acids react with a base to form a salt.”

  Jewel looked up to the sister-in-law with the beautiful raven hair. “Uncle Ford is smart, isn’t he, Mama?”

  “I assume your Uncle Ford is very smart,” the woman said with a smile, “since I understand only half of what he says.”

  Jewel’s mother. Violet committed that to memory, trying to figure out which man was her husband. Probably the one who laughed now, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Colin. She remembered Ford telling her Colin played practical jokes, so of course he would be Jewel’s father. It was all coming together.

  Rowan grinned at Jewel. “I’m glad Violet had such an important birthday.”

  “Me, too,” Lily said, sipping more champagne.

  “Me three,” Rose added, all but gulping hers.

  If Violet didn’t miss her guess, her sisters were getting a bit tipsy.

  Striving to relax, she looked around at everyone drinking champagne and chatting amiably. The sister-in-law with the straight tawny hair caught her eye and smiled. Jason’s wife, she thought happily, glad she was finally figuring out who was who. She liked them. They seemed friendly.

  Then once again, Father cleared his throat. When nobody took heed, he raised Mum’s bell and gave it a shake. Violet winced, sure something else embarrassing was about to come out of his mouth.

  “This is quite a momentous occasion. As the oldest, our Violet is now the first to come into her inheritance. I hope you will save it and spend wisely, my dear daughter.”

  Violet sighed. She’d been right. Sometimes Father could be so—

  “She can use it to buy a husband!” Rose announced with a tipsy giggle.

  Violet wished the earth would open up and swallow her.

  “Now, Rose,” Mum chided, reaching to brush a bit of pineapple off Father’s surcoat.

  “It was but a jest!” Rose poured herself more champagne. “Can you people not take a jest?”