Violet (Flower Trilogy) (9 page)

She stepped forward and put one eye to the end, closing her other eye the same way she’d seen him do. ‘‘Oh,’’ she breathed. ‘‘Stars. Just look at all those stars.’’

‘‘Do you not see the moon?’’

‘‘No, we must have spun out of range like you said.’’

Against black velvet, lights winked at her. White, and faint yellow, and the palest, most beautiful pink. A wonderland of stars.

‘‘Let me adjust it for you.’’

‘‘Wait.’’ She was looking at a whole new world. Or a universe, to be more precise. ‘‘I’ve seen the moon,’’

she told him. ‘‘Not up close, but at least I’ve seen it.

I just want to look at the stars.’’

‘‘But they don’t look much different through the telescope. They’re entirely too far away for the magnification to make a significant difference.’’

‘‘But they’re beautiful,’’ she said. ‘‘Miraculous.

What are they, really?’’

‘‘Other suns. And some people think there are other planets around them, just like our planet circles our sun.’’

The children were chattering behind her, probably planning a jest, but she couldn’t stop staring. She nudged the telescope a bit, and another group of stars burst into view. ‘‘ ‘There is an infinite number of worlds,’ ’’ she murmured softly under her breath,

‘‘ ‘some like this world, others unlike it.’ ’’

‘‘A lovely way to put it.’’

Startled, she jerked back from the eyepiece. She hadn’t meant for him to hear that. ‘‘I didn’t put it that way myself. I was quoting Epicurus.’’

‘‘Who?’’

‘‘A Greek philosopher.’’

She felt, rather than saw, him nodding beside her.

‘‘A forward-thinking man.’’

A smile twitched on her lips. ‘‘Very. He lived about three hundred years before Christ.’’ She leaned close again, peering through the telescope. ‘‘Do you believe that? That there are other planets?’’

He laid a hand on her back. A warm hand that made a warmer shiver ripple through her. ‘‘I do.’’

Giggles erupted behind them. ‘‘My uncle thinks your sister is pretty,’’ Jewel told Rowan in a loud, confidential whisper. His response was a disgusted groan.

Violet stiffened, and Ford’s hand dropped from her back. ‘‘So,’’ he said a bit formally. ‘‘Should I adjust it on the moon?’’

‘‘In a minute.’’ Of course he hadn’t meant anything by the touch, Violet told herself—he was a flirt, just like his niece. The awkward moment passed as she refocused on the sky. ‘‘For now, I’m enjoying the stars.’’

Just then, one of them streaked across her field of vision, and she made a silent wish.
Give me the wisdom to write a book worth reading . . . and the tenacity
to publish it.
Her first wish on a star.

‘‘Oh,’’ she breathed, ‘‘ ’tis awe-inspiring.’’

Hearing the wonder in Violet’s voice, Ford relaxed and decided to ignore his niece’s careless comment.

Violet’s velvet cloak had slipped to the ground, but she hadn’t bothered to reach for it. He stared at her shapely back, encased in a snug dark green bodice.

Simple, practical, but it certainly didn’t hide the curves underneath. Had she been wearing the same gown earlier today? He hadn’t paid any attention.

Pretty or not, Lady Violet was even odder than he’d thought. The stars looked much the same through the telescope as without it. ‘‘Would you not like to see the moon now?’’ he asked. She was still gazing at the sky, slowly shifting the telescope.

‘‘Lord Lakefield.’’ Rowan tugged on his breeches.

‘‘Lord Lakefield.’’

‘‘You may have another turn in a minute. For now, your sister’s looking.’’

‘‘I know.’’ When Ford looked down, the boy’s smile looked as wide as the telescope was long. ‘‘Violet’s never really seen the stars.’’

‘‘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.

’Twas a feeling he liked.

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. ‘‘ ’Tis 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 ’tis 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 Violet’s carriage had arrived. She 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 stared 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?’’ The boy’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 years 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 behavior gave nary a clue. ‘‘I hope we can do it again, too.’’ With a last, lingering glance at the telescope, she took her brother’s hand and tugged him toward the carriage. That infectious smile still curved her lips.

It made a man feel good, being the cause of that, regardless of whether he found the woman attractive.

Wishing he could coax that smile again, Ford hoped he proved as clever as his niece thought.

As he watched the Ashcrofts’ carriage roll away into the night, he lifted the girl 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 emotions later. ‘‘You just make me 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.

‘‘Why are we not 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 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 are 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 the 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 the 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 hoping you’d take a fancy to the man and get yourself married, but since you haven’t, well, he’s mighty handsome, and—’’

‘‘You are too young to take Rowan over there unchaperoned,’’ Violet said pointedly. She was sick of Rose always trying to marry her off. And although she knew she should feel relieved that Ford was ignoring her, she was peeved to find herself upset instead.

But she shouldn’t take it out on her sister. She looked up, contemplating 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 wrong with her these days. Ford Chase’s effect on her was ridiculous. ‘‘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 Ford’s irritating lack of manners.

‘‘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.’’

‘‘ ’Tis for you.’’

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d received a letter. ‘‘Are you certain?’’

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.

Peeved 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 into her chair. The nerve of the man, 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.’’ Chrystabel swept into the library.

‘‘Why will you not 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 that looked like palm trees. Her voice took on that prying tone that mothers must practice behind closed doors. ‘‘Did something happen yesterday?’’

‘‘Oh, Mum, nothing happened.’’ Which was precisely the problem. And she was getting tired of Mum grilling her every time she came home from Lakefield.

She couldn’t imagine what her mother expected to happen there that she would find noteworthy. Nothing ever did.

‘‘I would just like a day for myself,’’ she said. ‘‘Is that too much to ask?’’

‘‘Of course not, dear.’’ Mum focused on the letter still clutched in Violet’s hand. ‘‘What is that?’’

‘‘A note from Jewel.’’ Violet tossed it onto the dark wood desk. Stark white in contrast, the paper looked entirely too important.

‘‘How sweet. What did the girl have to say?’’

She wouldn’t tell Mum that Ford had something for her—news like that would push Chrystabel’s motherly 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 sighed.

‘‘That’s my Violet,’’ Mum said. And if her cheerful smile set Violet’s teeth on edge, she determined not to show it.

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

’til you see what Uncle Ford has for you! He had to find rocks to make it.’’

Rocks?
Violet couldn’t imagine. What sort of man made things from rocks and had a child write his letters?

An odd one with few manners.

‘‘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 gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘‘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 bright girl like 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.