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 till you see what Uncle Ford has for you! He had to find rocks to make it.”
Rocks? Violet couldn’t imagine. What sort of gentleman made things from rocks and had a little girl write his letters?
A strange one—that much was certain.
“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 looked toward him sympathetically. “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 girl as bright as 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.
Well, not only in that way.
She wasn’t looking forward to her own imminent birthday.
“Oh, good!” Jewel’s face lit up. Violet was having second thoughts already, but who could deny that smile? She still wasn’t thrilled with this nursemaid arrangement, but at least it would be something different to do. She wouldn’t just be sitting here. And Ford wouldn’t be able to totally ignore her.
She hated being the center of attention, but a little attention would be nice.
“Come inside,” Jewel said, turning to head up the walk. She looped her arm through Rowan’s and leaned close. “I have an idea for a jest.”
Violet might have been half-blind, but there was nothing wrong with her ears. “I heard that,” she said.
Jewel started up the steps. “Heard what?”
“You’re planning a jest.”
Opening the door, the girl batted her long black lashes. “Who, me? You must have mis-mis—” She paused for a breath. “Mis-un-der-stood.”
Jewel’s tone was so innocent, Violet would have believed her had she not known her better. She bit back a smile. Faith, could it be she would miss the girl when she left? She knew Rowan would. Though Ford would only be relieved. She could tell he saw Jewel as little more than a bother—an unwanted distraction from whatever spectacular discoveries he expected to make in his laboratory.
But then the viscount came down the corridor and swept the girl into his arms…
And Violet knew she was wrong. His love for his niece was obvious. There for all to see, shining in his incredible blue eyes. “Have you found our friends after all, baby?”
“I knew they would come if I sent them a letter.”
“Did you think of that yourself?”
When Jewel nodded, Violet nearly failed to cover her gasp of surprise. Why, the little girl was even more resourceful than she’d imagined!
“That’s my clever Jewel.” Ford kissed her on the nose. “And I suppose you got Harry to deliver it?”
“He always does what I ask.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” With a wry grin, he turned to their guests. “Welcome,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “Please come in.”
“As you wish,” Violet murmured. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge him. Absorbed in noticing that he was even better looking than she’d remembered, she tripped over the threshold—and once again found herself in the viscount’s arms.
Curse her deficient eyes!
Not that she really minded her current position.
She couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to set Jewel on her feet before catching her, but he’d done so quite handily. He steadied her, then grinned. “This is getting to be quite a habit.”
“I’m sorry.” His hands felt warm on her shoulders. “I know I ought to be more careful.”
“Nonsense. I’m fond of catching you.”
That charming smile almost convinced her of his sincerity. But of course he didn’t enjoy catching her, or even being in her presence, for that matter—the fact that he’d ignored her four days running certainly proved that.
She not-so-subtly wrenched free of his hands. “Lady Jewel said you have something for me?”
“Did she?” He looked disappointed—as though he’d wanted to tell her himself. He turned to his niece. “What did you tell her?”
“Just that you made something from rocks. And I invited them to come with us tomorrow.” She grabbed Rowan’s hand. “Let’s go play in the garden.”
“Wait.” With an outstretched arm, Violet stopped her little brother’s headlong rush. She looked to Ford. “Do you think we should let them go alone?”
Ford shrugged. “I’ll send Harry after them. And if you’ll wait for me in the drawing room, I’ll bring the surprise.”
She watched the children run off in one direction and Ford in the other. The moment they were all out of sight, a little flutter erupted in her stomach.
A surprise. When was the last time a gentleman had given her a surprise?
Never.
Unless she counted her father. Though most of his surprises involved flowers.
Trying not to get her hopes up, Violet made her way through Lakefield’s now familiar corridor to the drawing room. She seated herself on the faded couch. She crossed her ankles. She uncrossed them. She twirled the end of her plait with a finger. For the hundredth time since she’d met Ford, she told herself not to be ridiculous.
It was becoming a litany.
Although it seemed like an eternity, she didn’t wait long before he entered, breathing hard, as though he’d run from one end of the house to the other. Which she supposed he must have.
He wasn’t holding anything, though. Disappointment welled up inside her—which was, again, ridiculous. Then he drew something from his pocket—something small—and held it out, almost shyly.
“I made this for you,” he said.
She took it from him, turning it in her hands. Hardly a thing of beauty, it was two round, clear pieces of glass framed by some sort of wire. A little bridge connected them, and there were metal sticks on both sides.
Puzzled, she looked up.
“Spectacles,” he said. He slid onto the couch beside her, acting friendly, familiar.
What little composure she had left completely fled.
His brow furrowed. “Have you not heard of spectacles? They’re sometimes called eyeglasses.”
That jarred her out of her haze. Spectacles. Her mouth dropped open, and her breath caught in her chest. “I—of course I’ve heard of them, but…”
More words wouldn’t come.
“Would you like to try them on?”
“I…thank you,” she breathed.
She truly was thankful. This was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her. But the sad truth was, she knew the spectacles were useless.
She bit her lip. “I…I can read just fine. I know Rowan told you I cannot see very well, but it’s the distance that’s a blur. Printed pages look clear as water. But I sincerely appreciate—”
“No.” She’d expected him to look disappointed, but instead he grinned. “These aren’t for reading, Violet.”
“They’re not?” Thrilled as she was at his unexpected thoughtfulness, her brain seemed to be muddled, not half because of his closeness. “What are they for, then?”
“Spectacles for reading have convex lenses—they get fatter in the middle. These are concave, the opposite. The edges are thicker than the center. They’ll help you see in the distance.”
As she digested what he was saying, her hands began shaking. “What is all this metal?”
“Silver. To hold the lenses on your face. For reading, when a body is still, it’s fine to hold a lens or balance a pair on your nose. But after I made these, it occurred to me that you may want to wear them and move around. So I devised the sidepieces to rest on your ears and hold them in place.”
He scooted even closer, so close she could smell his clean spicy scent. It made her light-headed. Gently he took the spectacles from her hands, narrowing his eyes as he gauged them compared to her features. “I’ll probably need to adjust them. You’ve a smaller face than I thought.”
She’d never thought of herself as small—any part of her. Lily was the petite one.
And she’d never, ever thought she might be able to see like a normal person. “May I try them on?” she asked, struggling to steady her voice.
“Please do. I suspect I may have to play with the lenses as well, to give you optimal vision. The degree of concavity affects the amount of correction.”
She hardly understood what he was talking about, but she didn’t care. Her head was buzzing. Ford had made her spectacles. And he was handsome and generous and warm.
He lifted her chin with a finger, and she obediently raised her face, holding her breath while he fit the contraption in place. It felt strange there, perched precariously. She closed her eyes against the sensation.
When she opened them, Ford rose and stepped back—and he was still in focus.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, unable to tear her gaze from his face.
He stepped yet farther away…and she could still see him. He smiled that winning smile of his, and she could see it all the way from where she sat.
“Oh, my word.” Suddenly she was looking everywhere. “I can see the bellpull!” she exclaimed, “and the clock across the room.” He had clocks all over his house, and this chamber was no exception. “I can read the time! On that clock, and that one, too!”
It was a miracle. She stood, walking on shaky legs to the window. With the spectacles on, she felt taller than before and nearly tripped.
Nothing had changed there, but it only made her laugh.
“Look.” She leaned her palms on the windowsill, aghast at the beauty of the world. “I can see it—I can see everything! The clouds and the flowers and the leaves on the trees. Each individual leaf.”
“They’re working for you, then,” his voice came from behind her. “But odds are I can make them even better. We’ll have to figure out whether more or less concavity will be optimal, and then, with a day or two to remake them, I can—”
“No.” She whirled to face him. “You’re not taking these away from me.” She put her hands to the frame, tilting the spectacles crazily.
His laugh was merry and deep. “Let me at least make them fit.”
“No.”
“A minute, that’s all it will take.” His lips curved in a smile. “I left the sidepieces straight, you see? If I bend them around your ears, they’ll stay in place better.”
“A minute?”
His eyes met hers, that brilliant, compelling blue. Something flip-flopped in her stomach. “One minute,” he promised.
Reluctantly she released the spectacles, and he slid them off her face. The world immediately blurred.
She hugged herself, a little thrill running through her as she watched his unfocused form begin to manipulate the metal. “What a difference they make! Jewel said something about you needing to find rocks. Perfect rocks. What did she mean by that?”
“I took her up into the hills, hunting for quartz for the lenses. Rock crystal.” He glanced up briefly, and she wished she could see his eyes better, see the heady glint of intelligence she knew was there. He returned to his task. “Perfectly clear quartz is difficult, but not impossible, to find.”
“They’re not glass? They’re called eyeglasses.”
“True.” He smiled as he worked. “But plain glass doesn’t have the properties needed for optical lenses.”
“How did you know that?”
Making a final adjustment, he shrugged, an unconcerned tilt of his shoulders. “My brothers would tell you I’ve wasted countless hours filling my brain with useless facts, when I could have been doing something productive.”
Her insides rebelled at the thought. “Oh, but it wasn’t useless at all. Look what you’ve done with that knowledge!”
He shrugged again. She couldn’t make out his expression. “My family would much rather see me improve this estate, instead of sinking all my income into research and experiments.” Finished, he stepped closer to put the spectacles back on her face.
“They just don’t understand you, then.” She could relate to that, since her family rarely understood her.
“You’re generous to say so. Especially since I’m beginning to think they might be right. I should have renovated Lakefield ages ago. I’ve been living with my oldest brother far too long.”
He ran his fingers around her ears, making sure the sidepieces curved to fit. A little thrill whirled through her at the feather-light sensation.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
The way he looked at her made her breath catch. She bit her lip and nodded.
His hands still rested around the edges of her face. Warm fingertips lay along her jaw. “Can you see well now?”
She nodded again, gazing into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, realizing she was close enough to see them without the lenses. So close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’ve changed my life.”
With all her heart, she meant it. This incredible man she’d only just met had given her the most amazing gift. And now he was looking at her, really looking at her.
She was the center of his attention.
Blinking at that thought, her gaze dropped to his mouth.
He had a beautiful mouth, too. Suddenly, inexplicably, she wanted it on hers.
And even more suddenly it was.
His lips were soft and pillowy and quite unlike anything she’d ever felt before. And entirely different from how she’d imagined a kiss would feel…
A kiss?
She was being kissed.
Ford was kissing her.
Ford was kissing her.
She let out a little yelp, which must have startled him because he sprang away from her immediately. He looked as stunned as she felt, his vivid eyes hazy and unfocused—and gazing at her.
She didn’t like the attention so much anymore.
Clearing her throat, she looked down at the unvarnished floorboards. Of course he was stunned. A fellow would have to be daft to kiss a girl like her. Especially when she was wearing spectacles. Her hands went to the sides of her face, feeling the metal that hugged her ears. “I suppose I must look a fright.”
“No.” His voice was rough. She heard him clear his own throat. ”You look lovely, Violet. Your eyes shine like bronze beneath the lenses.” When she glanced back up, he appeared as surprised to have said the words as she was to hear them.
She knew he was just being nice. Which was, well, nice of him, but it left her in a swirl of confusion. Was it possible that he liked her, at least a little? Would he kiss her again?
Did she want him to?
It didn’t matter. Whatever had driven him to do such an absurd thing—such a ridiculous thing—was unlikely to ever recur.
“My eyes are brown,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely. She wasn’t lovely, and she didn’t like being lied to. If she’d been average-looking before, now, with the spectacles, she surely looked hideous.
“Your eyes look bronze to me,” he repeated, “though I’ve also thought they look like my favorite brandy. And truly the spectacles look fine. Better than fine.”
Much better than fine, Ford realized with a start.
After seeing her flushed with happiness and awe over his gift, he wondered how he’d ever thought her appearance was unremarkable. His sister often accused him of being oblivious, and for once he had to agree. Violet had a striking, unexpected beauty—and now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t unsee it.
He also couldn’t stop staring.
He wanted to kiss her again.
But he wouldn’t. The kiss had frightened her out of her wits. Having observed that rash behavior usually led to bad outcomes, he wasn’t usually given to impulse. The kiss had been no more than a momentary lapse. An isolated incident. He’d been temporarily overwhelmed by her tremendous delight, and his own pride in his work, and that infectious smile…
“Uncle Ford!”
Realizing he’d been unconsciously moving toward Violet, Ford straightened as the children came bounding into the drawing room. “What is it?” he grumbled, then cursed himself silently when his niece’s eyes turned misty.
He had to learn to be more patient. “What is it?” he repeated, forcing his lips to curve in a smile.
She smiled back. “There was a spi—”
“What is on your face?” Rowan interrupted, staring at his sister.
“Spectacles. Ford made them for me.”
Behind them, Violet’s brandy eyes still glowed with wonder, and Ford didn’t miss the fact that she’d finally called him by his given name. His forced smile turned genuine.
“What for?” Rowan asked.
“So I can see better.” The glow spread to encompass her entire face. “I can see things all the way across the room.”
“Oh.” Hands behind his back, the boy rocked up on his toes. “That’s good. But they look odd.”
“They look better on her than on me,” Jewel said. “Uncle Ford used my face to test different ideas. I think we tested about eleventy of them.”
Violet grinned. “Eleventy, hmm?”
“Jewel.” Rowan made a funny sound in his throat. “Remember? Remember what we were going to tell them?”
“Gads, I forgot!” She paused for effect. “You won’t believe what happened!”
“What?” Ford and Violet said together.
“We found a spider in the garden. A big, fat, hairy one. Rowan saved me from it,” she added, beaming at said savior.
“Did he?” Violet said very solemnly.
“Mmm-hmm.” Struggling to keep a smile from his face, Rowan whipped his hand out from behind his back. “Look.”
Violet screamed. And screamed some more. Then she turned to Ford and buried her face against his cravat, so hard he could feel the metal frame of the spectacles digging into the skin beneath his shirt.
He didn’t mind having her pressed up against him, but he wished she would stop screaming.
The spider really was quite impressively enormous. “Get that out of here,” he told her brother.
“But it’s dead. It cannot hurt anyone.”
Jewel erupted in giggles. “Yes, Uncle Ford, it’s dead.” She turned to her accomplice. “I told you it would work. I could tell your sister is lily-livered.”
“I am not,” Violet wailed, her voice muffled against Ford’s front. As if to prove her bravery, she turned to look, then promptly reburied her face.
Knowing his niece well—or rather, assuming she was like her prank-playing father—Ford sent her a warning glance. “Just get it out of here, will you?”
“Oh, very well.” Still giggling, Jewel went to open a window and motioned Rowan over to toss the creature outside. “But it really cannot hurt anyone.”
“It wouldn’t hurt anyone were it alive, either,” Ford said. “It’s not a deadly sort.” Somewhat reluctantly, he coaxed Violet out of his arms. “But that isn’t the point.”
“It was ugly,” Violet said with a nervous giggle of her own.
She walked to the window and peered at the dead spider dangling ungracefully from an overgrown bush. A delicate shudder rippled through her.
“I can see very well,” she declared, “and that is quite the ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Perhaps these spectacles aren’t such a good idea, after all.”
“Nonsense.” Ford stepped up to the window beside her. “Ignore the spider. Look at the clouds, Violet.”
“The clouds?” She looked up, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my word…”
Ford grinned, and as he watched the glow return to her face, he felt an answering glow inside himself.