VIOLET RODE IN a carriage, crossing London on roads so impossibly smooth it felt as though she floated. The sidelight illuminated a crimson velvet interior, rich, plush, decadent. And into this upholstery she sank, beneath the weight of Ford’s body.
While he kissed her senseless.
Knock-knock-knock.
A tiny sound escaped her throat, half enjoyment, half annoyance. Some very rude person was rapping on the carriage door.
Knock-knock-knock!
“Don’t answer,” she whispered to Ford. To be sure he complied, she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him captive, her lips fastened to his.
Knock-knock-knock!
With a snarl of frustration, she bolted upright, wrenched unwillingly from the dream. Her eyes popped open, but everything looked pitch black.
“Who is it?” she forced through gritted teeth.
Knock-knock-KNOCK!
“Who is it?” She swung her legs off the bed and pushed open the hangings, reaching for the floor with her bare feet. Feeling blindly for her spectacles, she managed to locate them and shove them on, but of course they didn’t help. Black was black.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
“Who is it?” she yelled, padding toward her door and fumbling in the darkness for the latch. When her fingers finally closed on it, she jerked it open.
It didn’t open very far.
Bang! Like a gunshot, the noise came across the corridor, accompanied by a high-pitched shriek. Then the latch was yanked from Violet’s hand, as—
SLAM! her own door flew closed.
Her frustration mounting, she opened it again.
Bang!
SLAM!
Bang!
SLAM!
She paused for a moment, shaking the last dregs of sleep from her head. After drawing a deep breath, she gingerly opened her door again, just a crack.
And heard the sound of her little brother’s giggles.
“Rowan!” she scolded.
Her hand was still on the latch, and something pulled on the door, though it didn’t slam this time. A steady pull.
“Rowan?” Rose’s voice called.
From down the corridor came the sound of another door opening, then Lily’s sleepy voice. “What’s all this noise?” she said through a yawn.
“I got you!” Rowan crowed. “I got you both. It worked!”
“What worked?” Violet asked suspiciously. A soft flare of light illuminated the corridor as someone—Lily, she guessed—approached with a candle.
“Rowan, I cannot believe what you did!” Lily exclaimed. Instead of disapproval, admiration tinged her voice. “You clever boy!”
“What?” Rose snapped, apparently still trapped behind her door and as mystified as Violet. “What did he do?”
Lily’s laughter echoed in the corridor. “Wait a minute.” Violet heard the small clink of the silver candlestick landing on a table, then a rustling, scratching sound as Lily did something with her door.
A moment later, it opened wide. “He t-tied your doors together with r-rope,” Lily said, the words tumbling out between giggles. “So you were slamming each other’s open and shut.”
Directly across the corridor, Rose opened her now-free door and glowered at their brother. “You’re lucky you didn’t wake Mum.”
Rowan shrugged. “Mum’s room is too far away in this house. Besides, she’d find it funny, don’t you think?”
“I ought to murder you, you rapscallion.”
His little chest puffed out proudly. “I had to knock forever to wake you. But it was worth it. Jewel said it would work. Too bad she wasn’t here to see it.”
Violet didn’t miss the melancholy look that stole across his face. “You miss her, don’t you?”
“I do. And I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.” A sheen of tears brightened his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d like a girl, but she’s not like any girl I ever knew. She’s more like a boy.”
Violet suspected pretty Jewel wouldn’t remind him of a boy a few years down the road. “You’ll see her again, I’m sure. And in the meantime, don’t forget we’re going home tomorrow, and Benjamin should be home by now, too.”
“Benjamin!” Benjamin and he had grown up together, close as two neighbors could be. With a boy’s short attention span, Rowan forgot Jewel immediately. “I’m going to sleep now, so tomorrow will come faster.” And with that, he took off down the corridor, to his own room across from Lily’s.
“What a rude awakening,” Rose said.
Violet sighed. “He yanked me from the most wondrous dream.”
“Did he?” Lily picked up the candle and swept past Violet into her room, Rose right on her heels. She lit Violet’s bedside candle from her own and set them both on the night table. “What was your dream about?”
When Violet didn’t answer immediately, her sisters exchanged a look, then sat in unison on the edge of her bed. “Tell us,” Rose said.
Violet’s cheeks flushed hot. She shut the door, cocooning the three girls together. “It was nothing, really.”
Rose crossed her arms. “You said it was wondrous.”
“Oh, all right.” She dragged the stool over from her dressing table and sat facing them, setting her hands on her knees. “We were coming home—”
“We?” Lily interrupted.
“Ford and myself. From the Royal Society reception.”
“How did that go?” Rose asked. “I tried to stay up to hear, but you got home so late—”
“Hush,” Lily said. “The dream first.”
Violet’s cheeks warmed. “It wasn’t that late.” After all the excitement in the corridor, her dream was fading fast. She shut her eyes, reaching for the memory. “We were riding home in his carriage, but it seemed to be floating—”
“Floating,” Rose echoed, and though Violet’s lids were closed, she could swear she saw her sister’s head nod knowingly. “Floating in a dream is supposed to be sensual in nature.”
“Rose!” Violet’s eyes flew open. “You are far too young to be saying such things!”
Rose raised a brow. ”Yet somehow old enough for you to show me Aristotle’s Master-piece?”
“I didn’t show it to you. You barged in on me reading it, and then you blackmailed me!”
She shrugged with profound unconcern. “Let’s read some more of it.”
“Not now,” Lily said, giving Rose a little shove. “I want to hear the rest of the dream.”
“All right.” Violet swallowed and rubbed her suddenly damp palms against her night rail-clad knees. “Ford’s carriage is rather ancient, as you know, but instead of the old leather, the interior was all plush red velvet. And I was leaning back against a cushion, and he was kissing me—”
“Did he kiss you really?” Lily sat up eagerly.
“He already kissed her,” Rose said. “In the library.”
Lily turned on the bed to face her. “That doesn’t count. You described it to me in detail, and it was a little peck, not a real kiss.” She shifted back to Violet. “Did he give you a real kiss in the carriage?”
“Well,” Violet hedged, alarmed to learn that Rose had been watching her in the library, “not on the way home. Lord and Lady Ailesbury begged a ride, and since they only live around the corner, we had no time alone together.”
“But after you dropped them off?” Rose pressed.
“The street out front is very rutted, you know—the springs in that old carriage might as well be nonexistent.”
“But he tried.” Rose’s gaze was much too piercing for Violet’s comfort. “Or he kissed you earlier, didn’t he? At the ball. Or later, when he saw you to the door.”
Violet looked away.
“Or both!” Rose concluded. “I knew it!”
Lily laid a graceful hand on the white cotton that covered her chest. “Goodness.” A theatrical sigh escaped her lips. “What was it like?”
“I never said he kissed me.”
Her two very different sisters fixed her with matching, demanding glares. Rose spoke for both. “Let’s hear it, Violet.”
“Oh, all right.” Violet crossed her legs and leaned forward conspiratorially. “It was very nice.”
“Nice?” Rose folded her arms.
“It was more than nice. It was marvelous.” Warming to her subject, Violet’s voice gentled. “The most amazing feeling. It made my head spin and my heart beat fast. His lips felt warm and squashy—”
“Squashy?” Lily looked taken aback.
Rose cocked her head. “Like an overripe peach?”
“Certainly not. More like…I don’t know…” Violet wracked her brains. “A hard-boiled egg?”
“An egg?” Lily’s fingers flew to touch her own lips. “I dislike eggs.”
“The white part or the yellow part?” Rose asked.
“Both!”
“No, I was asking Violet if his lips felt like—”
“Never mind!” Violet shouted over the din. “Forget about eggs. His lips were soft, all right? Warm and soft.”
“Oh. That sounds nice.” Lily’s eyes softened to a hazy blue.
“Gemini.” Rose fanned herself with a hand. “I must find someone to kiss. Tomorrow.”
Violet reached out and caught her wrist. “No, you mustn’t. You must care for someone before you kiss him.”
Lily gave another dreamy sigh. “Oh, Violet, that’s so romantic.”
That was taking things a bit too far. “It’s over now. We’re going home tomorrow, and he’s staying here to meet with his solicitor. And even after he returns to Lakefield, Jewel has gone home, so there’s no longer any reason for me to visit.”
“But you care for him. You just said so. And since he kissed you, he’ll be asking you to wed him, will he not?”
“It doesn’t always work like that, Lily. Some gentlemen don’t put such store behind a kiss. The Master-piece says that marriage is meant to restrain man’s wandering desires and affections.”
Lily frowned. “Does that mean all men prefer to keep wandering?”
“I’m not sure. But he won’t be asking me to marry him.”
“But if he did?” Rose pressed. “That would be splendid, wouldn’t it?”
“No,” Violet said flatly. “If he’s making a show of courting me, you can be certain it’s because of my inheritance. And I won’t marry for anything less than true love.”
“But Violet.” Concern filled Lily’s earnest gaze. “You must care. Or you wouldn’t have kissed him. You said a lady must care for a man before she—”
“I’m not looking for one-sided love, Lily. If I cannot have a love like Mum’s, then I’d rather live life on my own.” She turned to Rose. “And you can stop worrying—I don’t care if you marry before me. I don’t care if I marry at all.” And because that suddenly wasn’t true, she made a big show of yawning. “It’s very late. I have much to tell you both about the ball, and especially Mr. Locke, but it will have to wait until morning.”
Lily rose and placed a sisterly kiss on her cheek. “I would love to hear it all, Violet.”
Rose’s kiss wasn’t nearly as sweet. “I don’t care about Mr. Locke,” she said, “but you should marry Lord Lakefield.”
Long after her sisters had left, Violet lay awake, her heart and mind in turmoil.