Violet (Flower Trilogy) (32 page)

‘‘Well, yes. But not this far. Just supper, candlelight, music . . . and then I meant to propose.’’

‘‘I’m not angry, Ford.’’

The words were said much too calmly. After what they’d just shared, there ought to be passion in her voice.

He turned to face her, his gaze sweeping her lush body, still aglow from their lovemaking. ‘‘How could you not be angry? I misunderstood you, and I . . . I’ve ruined you. And now you won’t let me make you an honest woman.’’

‘‘I’m a bit more enlightened than to believe that. Honesty has nothing to do with this. I honestly wanted you. And I don’t regret what we did. But I’m not prepared to say I’ll marry you.’’

At least
I’m not prepared to say I’ll marry you
wasn’t an outright refusal. But he couldn’t understand, would never understand, how she could not regret their lovemaking and yet not want to marry him now.

Even though he’d felt that way with other women.

This had been different. This had been more than mere lovemaking. And with every fiber of his being, he was sure it had been as special for her as it had for him.

‘‘Question Convention,’’ he quoted woodenly.

He was beginning to understand what she’d meant when she said the Ashcrofts were not a conventional family . . . but he was not at all sure anymore that he liked it.

Ford was sitting at his desk the next morning, struggling to make sense out of a mound of Lakefield’s neglected paperwork, when his family showed up.

And showed up, and showed up—three carriages worth of them.

He’d known, of course, when he’d ordered Colin and Amy not to visit or bring the rest of the family, they were going to ignore him. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Especially on a day like this.

Lucky for him, most of them stayed outside while his twin, Kendra, came into the study, wearing an all-too-cheerful yellow gown. ‘‘We’re here!’’ she announced, as though they’d sent notice ahead.

‘‘I deduced as much when I heard the children shrieking.’’ All seven of the precious angels. For the first time in weeks, he was pleased at the sorry state of his garden—at least there was little they could do to harm it.

Kendra stopped beside his chair, her dark red hair glimmering in the too-bright sun that streamed through the window at his back. He scowled up at her. ‘‘Who invited you?’’

She leaned down to give him a hug. ‘‘I’ve missed you, too.’’

‘‘Right,’’ he grunted without rising.

Backing off, she went to sit down. He’d piled ledgers on the only extra chair, so she perched on the old iron chest that he’d never managed to open.

‘‘How was Scotland?’’ he asked her grudgingly.

‘‘Beautiful. Hamish is in good health, and Niall has done wonders with Duncraven.’’ He’d never met these people—her husband’s family—but felt he knew them from her lively descriptions over the years. ‘‘And Cait’s family is well, too. Cameron and Clarice had another baby.’’

‘‘That is good.’’ And no surprise. Everyone connected to the Chases seemed to have plenty of babies.

Assuming it would be the same for him, he thought amidst another round of shrieks that perhaps Violet’s refusal had been for the best.

‘‘Well.’’ Kendra crossed her legs, the foot on top swinging up and down with its red-heeled shoe.

‘‘We’ve come to meet Violet, so enough of the pleasantries.’’

‘‘Have I been pleasant?’’ Ford wondered.

Her green eyes flashed with all-too-familiar annoyance. ‘‘What is wrong with you, anyway?’’

‘‘Besides the fact that the woman I love won’t agree to marry me?’’

‘‘Colin said you were over Tabitha,’’ she said, frowning, and then, ‘‘Oh. Oh! ’Tis this Violet, then, isn’t it? Oh, my God. I cannot believe you admitted that. Ford Chase in love, wanting marriage.’’ The annoyance faded from her eyes, and they flooded with compassion instead. ‘‘Why on earth won’t she have you?’’

‘‘Look around,’’ he said, gesturing to the peeling walls. ‘‘I believe you’ll begin to get the picture.’’

‘‘Well.’’ Now her eyes filled with outrage. ‘‘If she values gold above love, then she doesn’t deserve you, anyway.’’

‘‘ ’Tis not like that,’’ he sighed. ‘‘She is more interested in books than material comforts. But she has money of her own and has convinced herself no man would want her save to have it. I’m afraid the condition of this place has done nothing to reassure her my motives are otherwise.’’

When Kendra came to hug him this time, he rose and let her wrap him in her arms. ‘‘Poor Ford. You’ve always managed to get everything you’ve wanted before, haven’t you?’’

Everything but Violet. Torn between taking comfort and bristling at his sister’s patronizing view of him, he opted for the comfort. ‘‘I guess so,’’ he mumbled into her lavender-scented hair.

‘‘Where is she?’’ Kendra demanded, pulling back.

‘‘I’ll talk to her and explain that your intentions are sterling. The sort of man you are—’’

‘‘Violet is busy today,’’ he said quickly. The last thing he needed was his family poking their noses in—

that was exactly why he hadn’t wanted them here.

Violet’s family might be unconventional, but his was mad as a cell full of Bedlam inmates.

The words she’d left him with were
I’m not prepared
to say I’ll marry you
. One glimpse of the family she’d be marrying into, and her answer would be an unequivocal
no
.

‘‘Are you sure?’’ Kendra asked. ‘‘We’ve come all this way—’’

‘‘I’m positive.’’ He plopped back onto his chair, willing to discuss anything to get off the subject of Violet.

‘‘Sit down and catch me up on the gossip.’’

She wandered back to sit on the chest. ‘‘Cait is with child again.’’

‘‘What took her so long?’’ he said dryly. ‘‘ ’Tis been almost two years since their last.’’ Jason and Caithren had two boys already. ‘‘And you?’’

‘‘Oh, two girls are enough.’’

‘‘Trick isn’t wanting an heir?’’

‘‘If one comes along, he wouldn’t
mind, I suppose . . .’’ The faint blush on her cheeks told him she and her husband, Patrick, were trying to conceive.

She looked down, her fingers tracing the decorative metal strips on the chest. ‘‘You know,’’ she said, also a master at changing the subject, ‘‘this chest has always reminded me of the treasure chest Trick and I found and brought to King Charles. Every time I see this one, I wonder what might be in it.’’

‘‘I’ve always wondered that myself.’’

Her head whipped up. ‘‘You don’t know?’’

He shrugged. ‘‘It came with the place, and there’s no key for the lock, and—’’

‘‘I’ll have Trick open it, you fool. Let me go get the others.’’ Before he could answer, she’d shot out the door.

While he waited for the invasion, he leaned his elbows on the desk and dropped his head into his hands, shutting his eyes against all the paper. Bills, letters, a notice from his mortgage holder that a payment was overdue. If only he had enough money to settle it all, get a fresh start . . . He would have to see how Rand was coming along with the translation.

But even if
Secrets of the Emerald Tablet
did hold the key to making gold, it could take months or even years to get the formula to work . . .

He jerked upright, staring at the chest across the room. He’d always assumed it wouldn’t have been left here if it contained anything valuable, but what if Kendra were on to something? The chest she and her husband had found for King Charles had been filled with precious metal and jewels, and for all Ford knew, this one could be stuffed to the brim with gold.

The solution to his problems might have been sitting here all along. The means to pay the debts, the proof to convince Violet he didn’t need her for her inheritance.

His heart was beating double-time by the time the family trooped in, Colin leading the regiment with Amy, holding Aidan in her arms. Ford’s oldest brother, Jason, followed behind with his wife, Caithren. Kendra brought up the rear, her husband Patrick—or Trick as they all called him—by her side with their baby girl.

Their remaining collective five offspring burst in after them, racing around Ford’s desk, hanging on his back, climbing on the chairs and the iron chest.

Whatever had made him think he wanted a couple of these wild creatures? Then Jewel climbed up on his lap in greeting, and as she pressed a damp kiss to his cheek, he suddenly remembered why.

‘‘Here it is,’’ Kendra said, leading her tall, blond husband to the chest. She plucked her nephew Hugh off of it and plopped him on his feet.

The boy looked up. ‘‘Can you open it, Uncle Trick?’’

Trick grinned, displaying a slightly chipped tooth.

‘‘I wasn’t a smuggler in my prior life for nothing, you know.’’ He handed his baby daughter to his wife and pulled out his knife, dropping to one knee to get to work.

While his brother-in-law probed the heavy lock, Ford rose and set Jewel down, taking her hand as he walked closer. As though the chest were a magnet attracting metal shavings, everyone else drifted near and gathered around, until they were all hanging over it in anticipation. An expectant quiet descended on the room. Even the children stopped playing.

Ford’s heart hammered against his ribs. This could be the answer—

A rusty
click
shattered the silence. Trick twisted the old padlock from the hasp. Ford held his breath as the man’s hands went to the heavy lid and lifted it.

As one, the family exhaled.

Jewel tugged on his breeches. ‘‘ ’Tis empty, Uncle Ford.’’

‘‘I can see that,’’ he sighed. He lifted his niece and buried his nose in her fragrant little-girl hair. It would have been such a nice, neat solution.

But he’d always known there was nothing of value in that chest. Otherwise, he’d have hacked off the lock years ago.

He might be slightly desperate, but he’d never been stupid.

Kendra reached to touch his arm. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

At that, Colin sighed. ‘‘Were you expecting this to solve all your problems?’’

Ford’s jaw tensed. ‘‘Who says I have problems?’’

Giggling nephews and nieces were clambering into the empty chest, and Jason reached to hold the lid safely open. ‘‘You’re always looking for the easy way out.’’ The compassion in his brother’s voice didn’t cut the sting of the words for Ford. ‘‘One of these days, you’re going to have to face life and learn to deal with it.’’

Ford’s arms tightened around Jewel. Would his family forever see him this way? He’d made several important scientific discoveries and he’d changed, hadn’t he? He’d fallen in love and wanted to get married.

‘‘Who invited you here to pick on me?’’

‘‘We need no invitation. We’re family. Do you ask for an invitation before coming to Cainewood?’’

‘‘That’s different. I live there.’’

‘‘Do you?’’ Jason lifted a brow. Maybe he sensed the changes in Ford, after all. And Ford wondered, where did he live? At the Chase town house in London, or the castle at Cainewood, or here?

He wanted to live here, he realized. Not in bustling London near the Royal Society and all his friends, not at his brother’s castle with his family. Here, in the staid countryside. With Violet.

Bloody hell, love changed a man more than he’d thought possible.

Amy and Cait exchanged a sympathetic glance.

‘‘Ford—’’ they started together.

‘‘Milord, do you not think you should have left for Lady Violet’s celebration already?’’ Hilda bustled into the room, a steaming pie in her hands. ‘‘I’ve made a tart for you to bring. Cherry, Lord Rowan’s favorite.’’

‘‘A celebration?’’ Kendra’s eyes lit. ‘‘What is it for?’’

‘‘Her birthday,’’ Ford said shortly. ‘‘And none of you are invited.’’

‘‘But Uncle Ford.’’ Jewel turned her little face up, her eyes pleading. ‘‘Mama promised I can see Rowan.’’

In the face of an argument like that, there was no hope in fighting this battle. Already, he had lost.

Twenty-one. It felt no different than twenty, which was amazing considering last night she’d also become an experienced woman. Standing before her dressing table mirror, Violet peered into it and straightened one of the bright green ribbons Margaret had woven through her hair.

She squinted and moved closer, removing her spectacles. Shouldn’t there be new lines around her eyes?

A sophistication in her features that had been missing before? She thought about the bed on the barge, and a melting heat spread from her middle down her legs, making her sit suddenly on the tufted velvet stool.

A knock came at her door, and 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 time already for the celebration?’’ A glance at the clock on her mantel—an old one with just one hand—told her only in the vaguest terms. ‘‘ ’Twould be nice to have one of Ford’s new watches, would it not?’’

‘‘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.

She forced a laugh. ‘‘You know we older women take longer to get ready. To create the illusion of youth.’’ She stood 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. ’Tis only that these fancier gowns take forever to get on properly.’’

Her mother joined her at the window, clearly not falling for those excuses. ‘‘Did something happen last night? I waited up for you, but you went straight to bed without telling me good night.’’

‘‘Well . . .’’ She’d never hidden things from her mother—at least not anything that counted. But there were some things one just 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.’’