A swing for two.
‘‘For us,’’ Ford said softly, taking her hand to lead her toward it. ‘‘I remembered how you like to swing.’’
‘‘Not too high,’’ she reminded him, suddenly nervous. ‘‘I notice you didn’t hang them on trees near the river. Are the other two for Jewel and Rowan?’’
‘‘For now.’’ His hand squeezed hers. ‘‘But I hope different children will use them someday. Our children.’’
‘‘Ford . . .’’ Faith, how did one tell a man she wanted to live with him all of her life? She had no experience with this sort of thing.
But he didn’t seem to be expecting an answer now.
Reaching the double swing, he smiled and said, ‘‘Sit,’’
just like that day on the riverside.
Slanting him a glance, she did so, and he stepped behind her. She waited for him to push, but instead he tilted her back, just like the day on the riverside.
And when he drew off her spectacles and lowered his mouth to meet hers, ’twas just like that day, too.
Except it wasn’t, because they hadn’t really known one another then. Their upside-down kiss that day had been shocking and exciting, where today’s was tender and heartfelt. They were still kissing each other’s bottom lip, but this time her heart turned upside down in the process.
’Twas a good thing she was seated, she thought as he drew away and the swing bobbed upright. Because her knees were so weak, she doubted they would support her.
He gave her a gentle push. ‘‘What do you think of the house?’’
‘‘I think . . .’’ Here came the acting. She wouldn’t dream of ruining the surprises—either his to her now, or hers to him later—by revealing she’d been the one to buy the book. Even though the white lie weighed a bit on her conscience, ’twould not be fair to either of them.
‘‘I think I’m confused,’’ she said, thankful he couldn’t see her face. Without her spectacles, the river looked blurry in the distance.
‘‘Confused about what, sweetheart?’’ he asked, pushing again.
The endearment filled her with a cautious thrill.
‘‘About everything. Why was this place so run down if you could afford to fix it up? Just because you never lived here?’’
‘‘No,’’ he said without hesitation. He wasn’t going to try to hide anything from her, and she loved him all the more for it. ‘‘I thought I could afford to fix it up, but that turned out not to be true. Until I asked Rand to sell
Secrets of the Emerald Tablet
for me.’’
He walked around to face her. ‘‘He got ten thousand pounds.’’
She gasped. ‘‘Ten thousand pounds! Why . . . that’s as much as my inheritance!’’
‘‘I know.’’ Grabbing one rope, he slid onto the swing. ‘‘ ’Tis amazing, is it not? I suspect the buyer was Isaac Newton, since he’d pledged to double any other bid, but Rand told me the purchase was made on condition of anonymity.’’
‘‘I wouldn’t want anyone knowing I owned such a valuable thing, either.’’ That much, at least, was the truth. ‘‘I expect it would make him a target for robbery.’’
‘‘Perhaps.’’ Raking a hand through his hair, he scooted closer, close enough to be in focus. He captured her gaze with those incredible blue eyes. ‘‘I hope this will change your mind.’’
‘‘Ford, I’d already—’’
‘‘In a matter of months, Lakefield will be earning a small profit. And things will get better from there.’’
He pushed off with both feet, setting the swing to swaying. ‘‘You can marry me now without fear that I’ll spend your inheritance and rob you of your dream to publish.’’
As though battered by the back-and-forth motion, her heart hurt. ‘‘Is that what you thought? That I valued a philosophy book over you?’’ Suddenly she could see where he could have inferred as much, and her shame escalated even more. ‘‘I would never put a book before you.’’ He hadn’t valued a book over her, either. He’d sold his precious alchemy book to win her. ‘‘
Never.
’Tis just . . . well, I couldn’t bring myself to believe anyone would want me for myself. ’Twas my failing, not yours. I’m sorry.’’ Tears welled, and one rolled down her cheek.
She wasn’t acting now.
He reached to wipe away the moisture, his fingers a warm promise on her skin. ‘‘Don’t cry,’’ he said as the swing slowed to a halt. ‘‘Just say yes. Please.
Marry me.’’
‘‘I’d be honored,’’ she whispered.
He caught her up in a hug so tight it threatened to crack her ribs. ‘‘I love you,’’ he said. ‘‘Have I told you I love you?’’
‘‘Only about a million times.’’ She laughed through her tears. ‘‘But I’ve neglected to tell you the same.’’
His eyes looked anxious. ‘‘I’m waiting.’’
She kissed him on the lips. ‘‘I love you, Ford Chase.’’ His mouth felt warm and dear on hers, and she kissed him again, thrilled when he pulled her closer and deepened it.
He coaxed open her mouth to stroke his tongue deep inside. The blood thrummed through her veins as his kiss convinced her she was his—and his alone.
She hadn’t known it, but she’d been waiting for this all her life. This love, this trust, this acceptance of her as a woman.
There was that weakness again, those languid waves of pleasure flowing through her. That heat was building inside, that ache to take him into her and make him a part of her forever.
She wanted him. Here, now, today, tomorrow, for all time.
‘‘I love you,’’ she said again breathlessly when he finally pulled back. ‘‘And faith,’’ she added with a shaky laugh, ‘‘I think I would’ve let you take me right here on this swing.’’
That devilish brow lifted. ‘‘We’ll have to experiment with that sometime.’’
Not only would she not put it past him, she looked forward to it.
A smile curved his lips as he toyed with a lock of her hair. ‘‘Before you change your mind, I expect I should ask your father for your hand.’’
‘‘Is that why you invited my whole family? Planning ahead?’’ she teased, reaching to his pocket for her spectacles. ‘‘All right, then. Just don’t forget to shout.’’
‘‘Six months,’’ Mum said after the congratulations and the hugs and the kisses. ‘‘ ’Twill take that long to arrange everything and allow people time to make plans to attend.’’
‘‘Tomorrow,’’ Ford countered loudly, apparently remembering Violet’s instructions to shout.
‘‘Tomorrow!’’ Rose snorted. ‘‘Madame Beaumont cannot make a wedding gown by tomorrow.’’
He turned to Violet. ‘‘Tell me you’re not going to London to order a gown.’’
She shrugged. She was a newcomer to caring about fashion and knew nothing about planning events.
‘‘Three months?’’
‘‘One week.’’
At that point, Father pulled Mum aside for a whispered conversation. Mum’s mouth fell open, and she nodded violently before turning back.
‘‘Two weeks,’’ she said, ‘‘and that’s final.’’
Two weeks later, Violet’s wedding day had arrived, and she still wondered about her parents’ whispered discussion in Lakefield’s garden. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d heard the words
‘‘with child.’’
She’d been mortified at the time to find they suspected she’d shared Ford’s bed, although between then and now she’d found herself a bit sad to learn she hadn’t conceived.
Maybe this month, she thought with a secret smile as Margaret finished threading a pale blue ribbon in her hair. Truth be told, she couldn’t wait to get back in his arms.
The two weeks since her betrothal had been excruciating. Odd how her parents had become so vigilant all of a sudden, when earlier they’d seemed so lax.
She hadn’t found more than five minutes alone with Ford at any one time. Barely time to steal a kiss, and she ached for so much more than that.
‘‘Why are you smiling?’’ Rose asked, watching Violet’s face in her dressing table mirror. ‘‘Brides are supposed to be nervous.’’
‘‘I’m not,’’ Violet told her. She wasn’t nervous in the least. This marriage was so
right
. Mum had been wrong to think Ford was too intellectual for her—so wrong she wondered if Chrystabel might be losing her matchmaking touch.
When her maid left, she stood and turned to face her sisters.
‘‘You look beautiful,’’ Lily breathed.
Today, in her pale blue satin wedding gown, Violet
felt
beautiful. Still smiling to herself, she absently traced the pearls embroidered in scrolling designs on her stomacher. It no longer mattered that she would never be as pretty as either of her sisters. The man she loved thought she was beautiful, and that was all that counted.
‘‘You should leave off your spectacles,’’ Rose said.
‘‘At least for the ceremony.’’
‘‘No.’’ She wanted to see everything clearly, especially Ford’s eyes when they exchanged vows. ‘‘Ford said I look fine in them. And I believe him.’’
‘‘I told you that you should marry him.’’ Rose’s voice sounded gloating, but Violet didn’t care. ‘‘Just think, Violet,’’ she continued, her tone changing to one of half awe, half envy. ‘‘Tonight you’re going to learn the secrets of the
Masterpiece
.’’
‘‘Oh, Rose,’’ Lily started, but then a knock came at the door and she went to answer it.
‘‘A delivery,’’ the majordomo said, holding out a long, flat box. ‘‘From Lord Lakefield to Lady Violet.’’
‘‘Thank you, Parkinson.’’ Lily shut the door and carried the small wooden box over to Violet. ‘‘What do you suppose it could be?’’
‘‘Jewelry, I’m sure,’’ Rose said. ‘‘ ’Tis a wedding present, after all. A necklace, I’d wager, from the shape. Maybe diamonds.’’
‘‘I think not.’’ Generous though he might be, Ford was focused on the estate these days, and Violet doubted he had enough of her ten thousand pounds left to feel comfortable spending money on diamonds.
The box was tied—very crookedly—with a purple ribbon Violet thought she remembered seeing in Jewel’s hair. Rose reached for it. ‘‘Open it. I am dying to see what he gave you.’’
Violet pushed away her sister’s hand and untied the bow herself, then lifted the box’s lid.
‘‘A feather!’’ Lily exclaimed. A question lit her gorgeous blue eyes.
‘‘A feather?’’ Rose’s lovely brow creased in a puzzled frown. ‘‘What kind of wedding present is that?’’
Her heart suddenly racing, Violet shrugged and hid another smile. She already knew the secrets of the
Masterpiece
, but ’twas obvious her sisters didn’t.
As evening fell, it started raining. Violet stood with Ford and her family within Trentingham’s covered portico, watching the last of the guests sprint to their carriages while she waited to say goodbye to her father.
‘‘ ’Twas a nice wedding,’’ Mum said, ‘‘was it not?’’
Violet sighed. ‘‘I can hardly remember it.’’
‘‘Perhaps you’ve had too much champagne?’’ Ford suggested, that hint of the devil in his eyes. ‘‘ ’Twas a rather solemn ceremony, right here in Trentingham’s chapel.’’ It hadn’t been solemn at all. Violet’s lips twitched as he continued. ‘‘I have lingering impressions of much Tudor woodwork and jewel-toned stained glass, with my beautiful bride a glorious vision in blue.’’
Lily giggled. She had definitely had too much champagne. ‘‘I cannot believe so many people showed up with only two weeks’ notice! All of Father’s friends from Parliament, and your friends from the Royal Society—’’
‘‘And everyone Mum knows,’’ Rose cut in. She was
still
drinking champagne. ‘‘Which means everyone who lives within a twenty-mile radius.’’
Ignoring her middle daughter, Chrystabel smiled at Ford. ‘‘You have very nice friends.’’
Although Violet would swear Mum had once referred to Ford’s friends as ‘‘that odd group of scientists,’’ today she’d seemed to hang on their every word. ‘‘I saw you chatting with Mr. Hooke’s ‘housekeeper,’ ’’ she teased her mother.
‘‘I enjoyed chatting with Rand,’’ Rose said dreamily, taking another sip. ‘‘And dancing with him.’’
Rand had danced with Lily more often, but apparently Rose hadn’t noticed. Violet met Lily’s guilty gaze and decided to hold her tongue on that subject.
‘‘I think at least two hundred people tried on my spectacles. My face hurts from smiling.’’
Making sympathetic noises, Ford pulled her close.
‘‘My poor wife,’’ he said, kissing her softly.
‘‘Ewwww.’’ Rowan made a face. ‘‘More kisses.’’
Everyone laughed. Earlier, Jewel had informed Rowan her Auntie Cait said kissing was encouraged at weddings, then planted one smack on his lips. Violet had never seen anyone turn quite so red.
‘‘Here we are,’’ Father announced, coming out with a footman bearing one of Violet’s trunks. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘‘I hope we will still see you around here.’’
‘‘Oh, it’s time,’’ Mum said with a sniffle, wrapping her in a hug.
Rose drained the last of her champagne. ‘‘I want a full report. Tomorrow.’’
‘‘Oh, Rose,’’ Violet groaned, kissing her anyway.
Tearing up, she gathered Lily and Rowan close.
‘‘Enough,’’ Ford said. ‘‘Any more of this, and you will all turn to mush and be washed away by the rain.’’
He grabbed her hand, and they made a dash for the carriage. She barely had time to lift her skirts before he swung her up by the waist.
‘‘I thought we’d never get out of there,’’ he complained as the door shut behind them and he dragged her into his arms. She’d been dying to be alone with him, too, and when he crushed his lips to hers, his kiss was hot and wild and wonderful. That delicious heat started spiraling through her.
But when the carriage lurched to begin the short, jarring journey to her new home, they bumped noses and then teeth. She laughed, smiling up at him before she snuggled closer.
Rain beat on the carriage’s roof, a soothing tattoo that made her feel even more warm and cozy and protected by her new husband.
‘‘I’ve decided,’’ Ford said, ‘‘that rain brings me luck.’’
‘‘Because it sent everyone home early?’’
‘‘That, too,’’ he said cryptically.
She felt entirely too drained to figure out what he meant. For a woman who preferred not to be the center of attention, the day had been exhilarating, but exhausting. ‘‘Mum was right. It was a nice wedding.’’
‘‘You can thank me for that. I extracted Colin’s vow, under pain of death, there would be no practical jokes.’’
‘‘He wouldn’t,’’ she protested. ‘‘Not at a wedding.’’