But she suddenly realized that, somewhere deep inside, she’d begun to hope.
More fool her.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course Ford didn’t mean to court her. That wasn’t how the world worked—not for girls like Violet. She’d reasoned that out for herself at a young age, and seen nothing but corroborating evidence ever since. His kisses didn’t mean anything; she was simply the most convenient girl to hand.
It was slim pickings out in the country, after all.
Had displaying the spectacles been his true motivation for inviting her, or had it been something else? Sadly, if there was a meaning behind his kisses, it could only be one thing: that he wanted her inheritance.
She couldn’t decide which option was worse.
Her insides knotted with humiliation and anger—at both Ford and herself. She couldn’t seem to swallow past the lump in her throat, nor breathe through the ache in her chest. It didn’t matter that she should have known the truth all along. No amount of telling herself so lessened the hurt.
“Is Locke here yet?” Ford asked the ever-growing assembly.
“Inside,” Mr. Boyle said, waving to a chamber off the quadrangle. “Holding court.”
“Excuse us, gentlemen.” Taking Violet’s hand, he drew her away.
Her other hand came up to rub her churning stomach. ”I was enjoying that conversation,” she protested, pleased that the words betrayed no emotion.
“And they were enjoying you.” He smiled down at her, appearing as warm and sincere as ever. “We’ll talk to them again later.”
Her head spun with confusion.
The chamber Mr. Boyle had indicated turned out to be the refreshment room. Along one wall, long tables were laden with bottles of canary, Rhenish wine, and claret. Guests filled their plates from platters piled with fine cakes, macaroons, and marchpanes. Splendidly dressed gentlemen and ladies chatted while they ate, seated at small round tables. At one of these, a tall, slim figure stood with one foot perched on a chair, talking to a group that had clustered around him.
“John Locke,” Ford said, nodding in the fellow’s direction.
There was little in his appearance to suggest greatness. Although his speech was animated, his eyes looked melancholy, set in a long face with a large nose and full lips. Like Ford, he wore no wig, but his hair was straight and pale. His hands moved when he talked, his long fingers waving from the ruffled cuffs at his wrists.
As they drew close, Violet could hear his words. “Government,” he said, “has no other end but the preservation of property.”
A squat, balding man crossed his arms. “How can you speak such blasphemy? I’ve never heard such a thing.”
“New opinions are always suspected, and usually opposed, without any other reason but because they are not already common.”
“He’s quite busy now,” Ford whispered. “An introduction must probably wait for later.”
“Oh, but may I stay and just listen?” And spend a while apart from you, so I can think. She waved an arm toward the tables bulging with refreshments. “Go have something to eat. You look starved. I’ll be right here.”
THIRTY-FOUR
FORD FROWNED as he moved toward the refreshment tables. Was it his imagination, or had Violet seemed rather eager to be rid of him?
He was hungry, though. He picked up a plate.
“Why so gloomy, Lakefield?” Newton asked, filling a plate of his own at the heaping buffet. Gresham College was certainly welcoming the Royal Society back in style. “Are you not enjoying the festivities?”
Ford straightened his face. “I’m enjoying them immensely.”
“Mmhm.” Newton cast him an appraising glance as he added a strawberry to his selections. “Lady Violet sure is lovely, isn’t she?”
“No. I mean, yes, of course she’s lovely.” Violet did look especially lovely tonight, what with her hair dressed in elegant curls, her ears and throat glittering with diamonds, and her new ballgown hugging her figure in all the right places.
But even more stunning was the infectious smile that had hardly left her face all evening. The excitement in her eyes that had seemed to light up the whole courtyard. He’d never thought to meet a girl excited by science, or anything much academic. Tabitha certainly hadn’t been.
Reluctant to follow that train of thought, Ford changed the subject. “I have some news I believe you shall find immensely enjoyable,” he said, choosing radishes and slices of musk melon.
Newton bit into a macaroon. “What’s that?”
“Well…” Ford was dying to share his good fortune with someone who would truly understand. He leaned close and whispered, “I’ve found Secrets of the Emerald Tablet.”
“You found Secrets of the Emerald Tablet?” Newton fairly bellowed.
“Hush! It’s yet to be translated. I’m not ready to announce—”
But it was too late. Heads had turned, and a speculative murmur ran through the room.
Hooke rushed over. “Is it true? Secrets of the Emerald Tablet exists? You have it in your possession?”
“Not at the moment,” Ford hedged. But at the sight of Wren and Boyle approaching, he gave up. They’d find out soon enough, anyway. “I’ve given it to an expert to translate. But yes, I found it, and I own it.”
More men pressed close to hear the incredible news. “How much did it cost you?” someone asked.
“A shilling.” As a stunned silence filled the room, he felt a grin stretch his face. “The bookseller thought it was worthless,” he added.
“I’ll buy it for fifty pounds,” a man offered.
Hooke raised a hand. “A hundred.”
Normally the most polite man Ford knew, Wren elbowed his good friend out of the way. “I’ll pay you five hundred.”
“I’ll double what anyone else offers.”
Silence reigned again as they all turned to look at Newton. His wrinkled suit notwithstanding, the fellow could well afford to honor the bid. He was wifeless, childless, and his father had died three months before his birth, leaving a tidy estate to his only son. Newton had inherited land from a subsequent stepfather as well.
He sounded sincere, and no one moved to say he wasn’t; he was known to
