FORD RECLINED in in elegantly carved chair at the Ashcrofts’ polished mahogany table, fighting the urge to pat his stomach. The supper had been exquisite, especially compared to the plain fare Hilda usually served.
“Thank you kindly for the invitation,” he told Lord Trentingham.
“Imitation?” The earl cocked his head. “It wasn’t common chicken,” he said, not unkindly. “The partridges in that fricassee were hunted today.”
“Darling,” Lady Trentingham said loudly, laying graceful fingers on her husband’s arm. Eschewing convention, she sat beside her husband rather than at the other end of the table. “Lord Lakefield was thanking you for inviting him to dine.”
“Yes,” Ford all but bellowed, since he was at the other end of the table, “it was quite a treat to spend an evening in the company of all your beautiful ladies.”
He couldn’t help but notice that Rose practically purred. “You’re quite welcome—” she began.
“Thank you for making my spectacles,” Violet interrupted. Her mother had seated her next to him. “This is the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she added, the words clearly from her heart.
Candlelight from the silver branches on the table glinted off the lenses shielding her eyes. “It was nothing,” he told her, meaning it. He’d made the eyeglasses as an experiment—to see if he could devise a lens to help her see her daily world as the telescope had helped her see the stars. He was pleased his idea had proven workable, and her happiness was an unexpected bonus.
Unexpected and more pleasing than he ever would have imagined.
As another experiment, he offered her his most charming smile, then dropped his gaze to her lips. When her cheeks flushed fetchingly pink, he was certain she was remembering their kiss.
Hmm. Perhaps he ought to continue this line of investigation. It could very well lead somewhere interesting.
He’d just have to be careful not to let it distract him…
“Are you finished, milord?”
“Pardon? Oh. Yes.” He cleared his throat and shifted to allow the maid to remove his plate. Was she Daphne or Dolly? He liked the way Lady Trentingham addressed servants like they mattered to her, and talked to them instead of just ordering them around, and listened to what they had to say. It was both unusual and admirable, and he was attempting to do the same. But the Ashcrofts seemed to have so many. He couldn’t remember this one’s name.
“Would you care for tea now, milord?”
“Um, yes. Please,” he said, feeling more and more like a half-wit. Darla? Was she Darla?
Some impression he must be making on Violet’s family. And though he hadn’t yet analyzed why, he did want to make a good impression.
They were neighbors, after all.
“Everything tasted so good,” Jewel said as another maid whisked away her empty Delftware plate.
Lady Trentingham smiled at his niece. “We’re glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart.”
In fact, Jewel had all but licked her plate clean. Though he knew Hilda’s cooking left much to be desired, Ford hadn’t realized he was starving his niece. It was humiliating.
She beamed at their hostess. “Your house is so pretty.”
“You’ve said that,” Ford told her. Six times.
Her gaze swept the magnificent molded ceiling, the gilt cornice, the heavily carved fireplace, the enormous flower arrangements set on every flat surface. “Well, it is pretty.”
Ford felt his shoulders tense. While Trentingham Manor was opulent beyond anything the Chases owned, Jewel didn’t have to keep saying it. She was making him out a pauper. Between the two of them, any hopes he had of impressing the earl and his wife were sinking fast.
“Milk, milord?” the maid asked. “Sugar?”
Ford nodded. ”Both, if you please.”
Dorothy? he wondered. Daisy? She set a small silver pitcher on the table.
“I have the sugar,” Rowan announced. As the boy passed the bowl along with a tiny silver spoon, Ford looked at him and wondered if he’d have been called Daisy were he born a girl.
Probably. Or Daffodil. Or Peony, perhaps.
Jewel tugged on the maid’s sleeve. “Dinah, can I have tea?”
“May I please have some tea,” Ford corrected her automatically. Dinah, he thought with relief.
“May I please have some tea?” his niece repeated obediently. “I love tea, but Uncle Ford doesn’t have any.”
Tea was still somewhat of a novelty and frightfully expensive; heaven knew he didn’t stock it at Lakefield House. Apparently Violet’s family could afford anything they wanted. And now, thanks to Jewel, they knew he couldn’t.
Violet leaned close. “Children rarely think before they speak,” she whispered sympathetically. “Rowan is no different.”
He knew that was true. But criminy, was his discomfort that obvious? Avoiding her gaze, he focused across the room on the Tudor linenfold paneling—painted white in the latest fashion—while he waited for his tea.
“Good heavens,” Lady Trentingham said. “I almost forgot to tell everyone the news. My maid Anne is getting married.”
“That’s wonderful, Mum.” Lily actually clapped her hands. “Is she wedding that coachman you introduced her to?”
“Of course. I knew they would suit.”
Rose sipped from her wineglass. “Her betrothed is from the Liddington estate, isn’t he? Where will they live?”
“Here, naturally. We’ll hire him on.” The countess laced her fingers together atop the mahogany table. “Anyone can replace a coachman, but I cannot do without Anne.”
“So that makes six matches for you this year?” Lily asked.
“Just so. But I introduced Lord Almhurst to Lady Mary Spencer last week, so I expect I’ll be up to seven soon.”
The maid arrived with the tea and poured. “Thank you, Dinah,” Ford said, hoping the Ashcrofts noticed how respectful he was of their servants. He lifted the absurdly small spoon and began shoveling sugar into his tea. Though he didn’t share his twin sister’s habit of eating dessert before the meal, he did share her sweet tooth.
“Seven weddings,” Rose said with an impressive sigh. “In case you haven’t heard, my lord, Mum is the unofficial matchmaker for all of Southern England.”
“I’ve introduced people from the North as well,” Lady Trentingham said a bit huffily.
“How admirable.” This talk of marriages was making Ford nervous, so he decided to change the subject. “What time shall I fetch you to go to the village tomorrow?” he asked Violet.
Her hands went to the frames of her spectacles. “Oh, I…well—”
“She cannot go,” Rose put in from across the table. “Mum has arranged for her to have new gowns fitted.”
Rose graced him with a wide smile, but although she had charming dimples, he didn’t find himself charmed. Odd, considering her tall, willowy beauty was reminiscent of Tabitha.
“Perhaps I can accompany Rowan instead,” she added. “I know how much he’s looking forward to the outing.”
“It won’t take the entire day,” Ford said. “The village is hardly a metropolis.” An understatement—Jewel would likely finish her shopping in twenty minutes. He spooned in more sugar—pure white sugar, he noticed, imported from the West Indies, no doubt. Another sign of the Ashcroft wealth. He turned back to Violet. “I can come by for you and Rowan in the afternoon, following your fitting.”
Behind her new lenses, her eyes clouded. “I—I…” She shifted on her petit point seat cover. “I’m not certain I’m ready to be seen in public,” she blurted. “With the spectacles, I mean. I know everyone will stare and ask questions. Perhaps after I’m more used to them—”
“You goose,” Rose interrupted. “Just take them off.”
Violet’s hands went protectively to the sides of her face, as though she were afraid her sister might snatch them off herself. “I like to see,” she said. “I don’t want to take them off.”
“If you’re going to insist on walking around with glass and metal on your head, then you’ll have to get used to people staring at you.”
“Rose.” Lady Trentingham’s tone was soft, but a warning nonetheless. “Our Violet prefers not to be the center of attention,” she explained to Ford.
“Please pass the sugar,” Lily asked sweetly.
“I’d like some, too,” Rose said. “Put it between us.”
Ford sent the sugar across the table. “How about if we go to Windsor, then?” he suggested to Violet. “It’s much bigger than the village. You’re unlikely to run into anyone you know there, and Jewel will find a larger shopping selection.”
Violet looked unconvinced, but Jewel’s eyes lit like green beacons. “Good idea, Uncle Ford.”
“But—” Violet started.
“Yes, it is a good idea,” Rose interrupted. “Except that will take all day, so Violet won’t be able to go. But as I said, I’ll be happy to go instead.”
“Rose.” Now her mother’s voice sounded more exasperated. “That won’t be necessary. I can send a note to Madame and reschedule the fitting for another day.”
“But—” Violet tried again.
“A perfect plan,” Lady Trentingham concluded.