“Yes, I’ve examined it. But not for very long.” Rose licked orange butter sauce off her lips. “Perhaps together—”
“Beatrix!” Lily stage whispered. “How on earth did you get in here?” She leaned down to scoop up a small striped cat, settling it on her lap.
“Lily,” Mum said. “Not when we have company.”
“She’s lonely.” Lily stroked the cat’s fur before reluctantly setting her back on the carpet. “She had a bad day.”
Lord Randal cocked his head. “Pray tell, how does a cat have a bad day?”
On his other side, Rose touched him on the arm, a clear bid for his attention. “Lily here claims she can feel her animals’ emotions. She collects injured creatures. Cats, birds, rabbits, the odd squirrel. She’s turned our old barn into a menagerie, or rather an infirmary for damaged critters. She even has a mouse.”
Lily nodded. “His little leg was broken, poor thing.”
Ford scooted his chair closer to Violet’s, sending her breathing back into turmoil. But a quick scan of the table assured her no one had noticed. The others were all looking at Lord Randal, who in turn had focused his intense gray gaze on Lily.
“Cats and mice together?” he asked.
To Violet it seemed he was looking into her youngest sister’s soul, but Lily, bless her, appeared entirely unaffected. “I have but three cats at the moment, and they’ve been with me since they were kittens. When creatures are raised side by side, they can learn to be brothers and sisters. Even cats and mice.”
“Fascinating,” Lord Randal said.
“Lily dreams of building an animal home,” Rose announced.
“A what?”
“An animal home,” Lily repeated softly. Like Violet, she’d never shared her dream outside the family. Reaching a hand beneath the table, she slipped the cat a bit of chicken while measuring their guest’s reaction with her steady blue gaze. “A nice clean building where hurt or abandoned creatures can be brought to live. People who work there will care for them until they are healthy enough to return to the wild or they find a home with a family.”
Lord Randal ran his tongue over his teeth, then nodded slowly. “That’s a very nice idea. And innovative, too.”
Violet sent him an approving smile. “Our grandfather encouraged us to be innovative,” she told him, trying to ignore Ford’s thumb tracing circles on her palm. “Or rather to follow our dreams. And, as he put it, leave our marks on the world.”
“And what is your dream, my lady?”
Violet took a bite of chicken, stalling for time. Although she’d told Ford her dream and he hadn’t laughed, it remained difficult to share with another.
Then Ford shifted his hand to lace their fingers together, and his reassuring warmth loosened her tongue. “I wish to write a book about philosophy,” she blurted, shoving her spectacles higher on her nose. “My own ideas. And use my inheritance to publish it some day and distribute it far and wide. Of course,” she hastened to add, “I have a lot of studying and thinking to do before then.”
Lord Randal didn’t laugh. “Of course. An admirable dream, Lady Violet.” He turned to Rose. “And your dream, my lady?”
“I…I dream of falling in love,” she said, and prettily lowered her lashes.
No one had much to say to that. Violet only just managed to stave off a laughing fit by squeezing Ford’s hand as hard as she could.
Jewel broke the silence first. ”Oops!” She dropped her napkin and dove to the floor to go after it. “Pretty kitty,” came her voice from beneath the table.
“Jewel…” Ford warned. But she didn’t come up. Instead, Rowan slipped off his chair to join her.
An alarmed meow came from somewhere below.
“Poor Beatrix. What are they doing to you?” Leaning down, Lily swept the cat back to her lap. She rubbed its small, furry head with a finger. “Go out now, Beatrix. I shall come to you later.”
Beatrix did go out, leaping gracefully from Lily’s lap to the patterned carpet, her striped tail high in the air.
“She obeyed.” Admiration lit Lord Randal’s eyes. “A cat complied with your command.”
“Holy Hades,” came Rowan’s voice muffled from below. “Look, Jewel.”
“Language, Rowan!” Mum admonished.
Jewel’s head popped up. “Uncle Ford, are you holding hands with Lady Violet under the table?”
“No!” Ford yelped, raising both his hands, fingers spread to prove his point.
It was the second time Violet had seen him blush. Knowing her own face must be redder than Trentingham’s roses, she was sure the truth was obvious.
Lily gasped. Rose smirked. Mum’s mouth curved into a smile.
“What’s that?” Father mumbled.
It was a long supper.
THIRTY
LATER, FORD seated himself beside Violet at the round table in Trentingham’s library. Emboldened by the wine he’d consumed during supper, he inched over in his chair until one of his knees rested against hers, then leaned to whisper in her ear. “I’m looking forward to Monday.”
She turned her head slightly, her cheeks prettily flushed, and he hoped that meant she was looking forward to Monday, too. But then her eyes suddenly narrowed. She set down the book she’d been reading. ”I just want you to know,” she whispered back, “that I am nearly eighteen, and my mother doesn’t run my life.”
He wouldn’t challenge that statement for all the gold in England. “I’m certain the decision was yours alone,” he assured her. “I’m just glad you decided to come.”
“Oh,” she said, and then, “Oh!” when his arm snaked around to rest on her shoulder. Her hand drifted up to toy with the end of her plait, which he’d noticed she sometimes did when she was flustered.
Not that she had cause for worry. It was clear as the lenses over her eyes that nobody else in this room was going to take note of the two of them together.
Candles burned, warding off the dark. Reluctant to say goodbye to each other, Rowan and Jewel had fallen asleep on a corner of the patterned carpet, half twined where they’d dropped in their play. Across the table, Rand and Rose
