Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Tell who what?” asked Father.

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Ford paced Lakefield House, satisfied with the progress of the renovations. Not that everything was complete—even with an army of skilled laborers, there was only so much one could accomplish in two weeks. But the roof was sound, and the exterior was a gleaming white. The garden had been cleared, and if it had a way to go before one could call it beautiful, even Ford’s untrained eye could see promise in all the new plants and flowers.

  And he could easily find his sundial now. A quick glance told him it was nearly noon—nearly time for Violet to arrive from Trentingham.

  He felt as though he’d waited his entire life for this moment. Thanks to the sale of Secrets of the Emerald Tablet, Lakefield shone not only in ways that showed, but behind the scenes. The latest farming implements were on order, and tenants were moving into the newly refinished cottages. The estate hummed with productivity and the promise of more to come. The threat of foreclosure was behind him, and despite spending a prodigious amount of money to accomplish his goals, he had enough funds remaining to live well for a few months until Lakefield started producing the tidy income it should.

  He’d been surprised to find he didn’t mind the labors of a landowner, either. Although it would never replace the scientific work that claimed his heart, it was satisfying to use one’s brains and brawn to improve a place of one’s own. He wasn’t facing the months and years ahead with dread, but rather with anticipation of watching his efforts pay off.

  No matter how painful it had been to sell the book, he knew he’d done the right thing—and, for perhaps the first time in his life, the responsible thing.

  While he wouldn’t be the one to bring the Philosopher’s Stone to the world, Violet meant the world to him, anyway. If he could only see that long-sought-after acceptance in her eyes, it would all have been worth it.

  His stomach knotted at the sight of an approaching carriage.

  Here was his moment of truth.

  He’d done right by Lakefield and all its people. He’d secured a future for his children, and his own future along with it.

  But if Violet refused to share it with him, it would be a bleak future indeed.

  Sixty-Four

  AFTER WAITING what seemed an eternity while she wondered if Ford had taken her goodbye to heart, Violet had been confused when a note arrived inviting her entire family to dine at Lakefield House this afternoon.

  Now on their way, she twisted her hands in her lap, not really listening to her sisters and Rowan chatter in the carriage. As they approached Lakefield, she leaned to part the carriage curtains. A trickle of relief stole through her when she saw Ford pacing by the door, apparently as impatient as she.

  Chrystabel placed her gentle fingers over Violet’s busy ones. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” Rose asked.

  Violet exchanged a glance with Mum. “Just to visit,” she said in as offhand a manner as she could. “You needn’t read something into every sentence.”

  “What are you reading?” Father asked.

  “Egad.” Violet took a deep breath as the carriage rolled to a stop. They were here. Whatever was going to happen would happen now. She’d never considered herself much of an actress, but she had a role to play today, and she intended to do it well.

  Ford greeted them outdoors with a formal reserve that did nothing to relieve her fears, inviting them all for a tour of the house before dinner. Violet followed him, wondering what her parents would think, whether they would still bless this possible marriage when they saw how poorly he lived.

  But then she stepped inside.

  The old dark paneling in the entrance hall was now a honeyed tone, and their first tour stop was the drawing room, where the floor had been stripped and polished, the walls painted a soft turquoise in place of the faded red.

  “This is lovely,” Rose said in awe.

  Had Rose seen the place last week, Violet thought, she’d be making one of her saucebox remarks instead.

  But the room was lovely. Unbelievably lovely.

  “I still need to order furniture,” Ford explained, “and draperies.” He looked to Violet. “I’ve no eye for decor, so I’m hoping for help with that.”

  She nodded, hoping he was hoping for her help. Hoping she hadn’t spoiled her chances by refusing him one time too many.

  His study was similarly refurbished, done in shades of cinnamon and olive green. Gone was the ugly brown decor in the dining room, replaced with walls of deep burgundy to set off the refinished cabinetry.

  Hilda was setting the table. “It will be half an hour or more before dinner,” she told Ford, “but I’ve set out some victuals in the garden.”

  “We’re going there straight after our tour,” he assured her.

  “The garden?” asked Father.

  Hilda smiled and raised her voice. “If you’ll but wait a moment, Lord Trentingham, I’ll show you outside.”

  The rest of them headed upstairs. The staircase had new, polished balusters, and the steps didn’t creak. “I’ve hired a cook,” Ford told Violet as they climbed, “so Hilda is just a housekeeper now.”

  In Ford’s bedchamber, the peeling ceiling had been stripped, revealing dark beams with colorful painted designs from some fanciful former owner. “It’s changed so much,” Violet breathed.

  Lily’s eyes were round blue orbs. “You’ve been in here before?”

  Violet’s face burned. “Not here. I meant the house in general.”

  The chamber looked entirely different. The massive oak canopy bed had been refinished to a warm tone, and the old bed-hangings were gone. The room next door had been opened to combine with this one, providing a sitting and dressing area, currently furnished with the same settle, chair, and table that had been in the space when it was separate.

  “I thought it would be nice to have more furniture in the room,” Ford said, capturing Violet’s gaze. “I envision changing it to something more comfortable. Except for that chair. For some odd reason, I’m rather attached to that plain oak chair.”

  “Why?” Lily asked, clearly confused.

  Ford only shrugged, while Violet focused on the shiny wood floor.

  “‘You cannot conceal love or a cough,’” Rowan read slowly, and she turned gratefully to see an inscription above the door.

  “That was there already,” Ford rushed to explain, looking a little uneasy at hearing the romantic sentiment aloud. “We found it beneath layers of paint.”

  Mum smiled. “It’s a clever turn of phrase.”

  He nodded, shooting Violet a significant glance. “I suppose I agree with it, too.”

  “You should marry him,” Rose whispered to Violet as they left the room. “He even has a nice house.”

  For once, Violet wasn’t tempted to slap her middle sister. And if she was reading Ford’s silent messages correctly, this wedding was going to happen.

  Buoyed by that thought, she practically floated into the next room, a small one painted pale green.

  Ford told them it was “Jewel’s room.”

  “Will Jewel come to visit and sleep here?” Rowan asked.

  “I hope so.”

  “Me, too.” Apparently, now that he was no longer scratching, he’d forgotten that Jewel had laughed at him.

  “There are two other chambers off the corridor,” Rose pointed out. “Why did we walk past those?”

  “I haven’t done anything with them yet. I’m hoping to fix one up as a nursery.”

  Another unspoken message, one that made all the eyes in the chamber seem to converge on Violet. She was finding it hard to breathe.

  When Rowan yelled, “Come see the laboratory!” she could have kissed him. They all trooped up to the attic. Nothing had changed in that room, but she wouldn’t have wanted it to. It was Ford, plain and simple.

  She didn’t remember drifting down the stairs, but a few minutes later they’d joined her father in the garde
n, where he was in the middle of explaining the newest pruning techniques to poor old Harry.

  Leaving her family to the refreshments Hilda had set out, Ford drew Violet aside. “Come with me,” he whispered. “I’ve something else to show you.” And he walked her around the corner of the house.

  There, hanging from three oaks, were three swings: two regular swings and one wider version that was more than just ropes and a board. It had a back and armrests as well.

  A swing for two.

  “For us,” Ford said softly, taking her hand to lead her toward it. “I remembered how you like to swing.”

  “Not too high,” she reminded him, suddenly nervous. “I notice you didn’t hang them on trees near the river. Are the other two for Jewel and Rowan?”

  “For now.” His hand squeezed hers. “But I hope different children will use them someday. Our children.”

  “Ford…” Faith, how did one tell a man she wanted to live with him all of her life? She had no experience with this sort of thing.

  But he didn’t seem to be expecting an answer now. Reaching the double swing, he smiled and said, “Sit,” just like that day on the riverside.

  Slanting him a glance, she did so, and he stepped behind her. She waited for him to push, but instead he tilted her back, just like the day on the riverside. And when he drew off her spectacles and lowered his mouth to meet hers, it was just like that day, too.

  Except it wasn’t, because they hadn’t really known each other then. Their upside-down kiss that day had been shocking and exciting, where today’s was tender and heartfelt. They were once again kissing each other’s bottom lip, but this time her heart turned upside down in the process.

  It was a good thing she was seated, she thought as he drew away and the swing bobbed upright. Because her knees were so weak, she doubted they would support her.

  He gave her a gentle push. “What do you think of the house?”

  “I think…” Here came the acting. She wouldn’t dream of ruining the surprises—either his to her now, or hers to him later—by revealing she’d been the one to buy the book. Even though the white lie weighed a bit on her conscience, that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

  “I think I’m confused,” she said, thankful he couldn’t see her face. Without her spectacles, the river looked blurry in the distance.

  He pushed her again. “Confused about what, sweetheart?”

  The endearment filled her with a cautious thrill. “About everything. Why was this place so run down if you could afford to fix it up? Just because you never lived here?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation. He wasn’t going to try to hide anything from her, and she loved him all the more for it. “I thought I could afford to fix it up, but that turned out not to be true. Until I asked Rand to sell Secrets of the Emerald Tablet for me.” He walked around to face her. “He got ten thousand pounds.”

  She gasped. “Ten thousand pounds! Why…that’s as much as my inheritance!”

  “I know.” Grabbing one rope, he stopped the swing and slid onto it. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I suspect the buyer was Isaac Newton, since he’d pledged to double any other bid, but Rand told me the purchase was made on condition of anonymity.”

  “I wouldn’t want anyone knowing I owned such a valuable thing, either.” That much, at least, was the truth. “I expect it would make him a target for robbery.”

  “Perhaps.” Raking a hand through his hair, Ford scooted closer, close enough to be in focus. He captured her gaze with those incredible blue eyes. “I hope this will change your mind.”

  “Ford, I’d already—”

  “In a matter of months, Lakefield will be earning a goodly profit.” He pushed off with both feet, setting the swing to swaying. “You can marry me now without fear that I’ll spend your inheritance and rob you of your dream to publish.”

  As though battered by the back-and-forth motion, her heart hurt. “Is that what you thought? That I valued a philosophy book over you?”

  Suddenly she could see where he could have inferred as much, and her shame escalated beyond bearing. Her throat tightened painfully.

  “I would never put a book before you,” she choked out. He hadn’t valued a book over her, either. He’d sold his precious alchemy book to win her. “Never. It’s just…well, I couldn’t bring myself to believe anyone would want me for myself. It was my failing, not yours. I’m sorry.”

  Tears welled, and one rolled down her cheek.

  She wasn’t acting now.

  He reached to wipe away the moisture, his fingers a warm promise on her skin. “Don’t cry,” he said as the swing slowed to a halt. “Just say yes. Please. Marry me.”

  “I’d be honored,” she whispered.

  He caught her up in a hug so tight it threatened to crack her ribs. “I love you,” he said. “Have I told you I love you?”

  “Only about a million times.” She laughed through her tears. “But I’ve neglected to tell you the same.”

  His eyes looked anxious. “I’m waiting.”

  She kissed him on the lips. “I love you, Ford Chase.” His mouth felt warm and dear on hers, and she kissed him again, thrilled when he pulled her closer and deepened it.

  She sank into the embrace. The blood thrummed through her veins as his kiss convinced her she was his—and his alone. She hadn’t known it, but she’d been waiting for this all her life. This love, this trust, this acceptance of her as a woman.

  There was that weakness again, those languid waves of pleasure flowing through her. That heat was building inside, that ache to take him into her and make him a part of her forever.

  She wanted him. Here, now, today, tomorrow, for all time.

  “I love you,” she said again breathlessly when he finally pulled back. “And faith,” she added with a shaky laugh, “I think I would’ve let you take me right here on this swing.”

  That devilish brow lifted. “We’ll have to experiment with that sometime.”

  Not only would she not put it past him, she looked forward to it.

  A smile curved his lips as he toyed with a lock of her hair. “Before you change your mind, I expect I should ask your father for your hand.”

  “Is that why you invited my whole family? Planning ahead?” she teased, reaching to his pocket for her spectacles. “All right, then. Just don’t forget to shout.”

  Sixty-Five

  “SIX MONTHS,” Mum said after the congratulations and the hugs and the kisses. “It will take that long to arrange everything and allow people time to make plans to attend.”

  “Tomorrow,” Ford countered loudly, evidently remembering Violet’s instructions to shout.

  “Tomorrow!” Rose snorted. “Madame Beaumont cannot make a wedding gown by tomorrow.”

  He turned to Violet. “Tell me you’re not going to London to order a gown.”

  She shrugged. She was a newcomer to caring about fashion and knew nothing about planning events. “Three months?”

  “One week.”

  At that point, Father pulled Mum aside for a whispered conversation. Mum’s mouth fell open, and she nodded violently before turning back.

  “Two weeks,” she said, “and that’s final.”

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Violet’s wedding day had arrived, and she still wondered about her parents’ whispered discussion in Lakefield’s garden. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d heard the words “with child.”

  She’d been mortified at the time to find they suspected she’d shared Ford’s bed, although between then and now she’d found herself a bit sad to learn she hadn’t conceived.

  Maybe this month, she thought with a secret smile as Margaret finished threading a pale blue ribbon in her hair. Truth be told, she couldn’t wait to get back in his arms.

  The two weeks since her betrothal had been excruciating. Odd how her parents had become so vigilant all of a sudden, when earlier they’d seemed so lax. She hadn’t found more than five minutes alone with Ford at any one
time. Barely time to steal a kiss, and she ached for so much more than that.

  “Why are you smiling?” Rose asked, watching Violet’s face in her dressing table mirror. “Brides are supposed to be nervous.”

  “I’m not,” Violet told her. She wasn’t nervous in the least. This marriage was so right. Mum had been wrong to think Ford was too intellectual for her—so wrong she wondered if Chrystabel might be losing her matchmaking touch.

  When her maid left, she stood and turned to face her sisters.

  “You look beautiful,” Lily breathed.

  Today, in her pale blue satin wedding gown, Violet felt beautiful. Still smiling to herself, she absently traced the pearls embroidered in scrolling designs on her stomacher. It no longer mattered that she would never be as pretty as either of her sisters. The man she loved wanted her, and that was all that counted.

  “You should leave off your spectacles,” Rose said. “At least for the ceremony.”

  “No.” She wanted to see everything clearly, especially Ford’s eyes when they exchanged vows. “Ford said I look fine in them. And I believe him.”

  “I told you that you should marry him.” Though Rose’s voice sounded gloating, Violet didn’t care. “Just think, Violet,” she continued, her tone changing to one of half awe, half envy. “Tonight you’re going to learn the secrets of the Master-piece.”

  “Oh, Rose,” Lily started, but then a knock came at the door and she went to answer it.

  “A delivery,” the majordomo said, holding out a long, flat box. “From Lord Lakefield to Lady Violet.”

  “Thank you, Parkinson.” Lily shut the door and carried the small wooden box over to Violet. “What do you suppose it could be?”

  “Jewelry, I’m sure,” Rose said. “It’s a wedding present, after all. A necklace, I’d wager, from the shape of the box. Maybe diamonds.”

  “I think not.” Generous though he might be, Ford was focused on the estate these days, and Violet doubted he had enough of her ten thousand pounds left to feel comfortable spending money on diamonds.