It was a miracle.
But what did this mean? She had to know. When he tried to kiss her again, she laid a hand on his cheek. “Ford, I—”
Laughter filled the tunnel as two other couples entered the passageway, clearly in their cups.
“‘Night, Lakefield,” one of the men called facetiously. “Sweet dreams.”
Violet and Ford sprang apart. “‘Night, Hartwell,” he mumbled. His shallow breathing seemed to echo in the tunnel as he waited for the intruders to clear the other end.
When the two of them were alone again, he smiled at her, another slow, lazy smile that made her heart lurch. He leaned close, angling his head. Their lips met—
And three more men stumbled into the tunnel.
“‘Night, Lakefield,” they called in drunken unison.
“Let’s line up for the carriage,” Ford said with a sigh.
THIRTY-SIX
VIOLET RODE IN a carriage, crossing London on roads so impossibly smooth it felt as though she floated. The sidelight illuminated a crimson velvet interior, rich, plush, decadent. And into this upholstery she sank, beneath the weight of Ford’s body.
While he kissed her senseless.
Knock-knock-knock.
A tiny sound escaped her throat, half enjoyment, half annoyance. Some very rude person was rapping on the carriage door.
Knock-knock-knock!
“Don’t answer,” she whispered to Ford. To be sure he complied, she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him captive, her lips fastened to his.
Knock-knock-knock!
With a snarl of frustration, she bolted upright, wrenched unwillingly from the dream. Her eyes popped open, but everything looked pitch black.
“Who is it?” she forced through gritted teeth.
Knock-knock-KNOCK!
“Who is it?” She swung her legs off the bed and pushed open the hangings, reaching for the floor with her bare feet. Feeling blindly for her spectacles, she managed to locate them and shove them on, but of course they didn’t help. Black was black.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
“Who is it?” she yelled, padding toward her door and fumbling in the darkness for the latch. When her fingers finally closed on it, she jerked it open.
It didn’t open very far.
Bang! Like a gunshot, the noise came across the corridor, accompanied by a high-pitched shriek. Then the latch was yanked from Violet’s hand, as—
SLAM! her own door flew closed.
Her frustration mounting, she opened it again.
Bang!
SLAM!
Bang!
SLAM!
She paused for a moment, shaking the last dregs of sleep from her head. After drawing a deep breath, she gingerly opened her door again, just a crack.
And heard the sound of her little brother’s giggles.
“Rowan!” she scolded.
Her hand was still on the latch, and something pulled on the door, though it didn’t slam this time. A steady pull.
“Rowan?” Rose’s voice called.
From down the corridor came the sound of another door opening, then Lily’s sleepy voice. “What’s all this noise?” she said through a yawn.
“I got you!” Rowan crowed. “I got you both. It worked!”
“What worked?” Violet asked suspiciously. A soft flare of light illuminated the corridor as someone—Lily, she guessed—approached with a candle.
“Rowan, I cannot believe what you did!” Lily exclaimed. Instead of disapproval, admiration tinged her voice. “You clever boy!”
“What?” Rose snapped, apparently still trapped behind her door and as mystified as Violet. “What did he do?”
Lily’s laughter echoed in the corridor. “Wait a minute.” Violet heard the small clink of the silver candlestick landing on a table, then a rustling, scratching sound as Lily did something with her door.
A moment later, it opened wide. “He t-tied your doors together with r-rope,” Lily said, the words tumbling out between giggles. “So you were slamming each other’s open and shut.”
Directly across the corridor, Rose opened her now-free door and glowered at their brother. “You’re lucky you didn’t wake Mum.”
Rowan shrugged. “Mum’s room is too far away in this house. Besides, she’d find it funny, don’t you think?”
“I ought to murder you, you rapscallion.”
His little chest puffed out proudly. “I had to knock forever to wake you. But it was worth it. Jewel said it would work. Too bad she wasn’t here to see it.”
Violet didn’t miss the melancholy look that stole across his face. “You miss her, don’t you?”
“I do. And I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.” A sheen of tears brightened his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d like a girl, but she’s not like any girl I ever knew. She’s more like a boy.”
Violet suspected pretty Jewel wouldn’t remind him of a boy a few years down the road. “You’ll see her again, I’m sure. And in the meantime, don’t forget we’re going home tomorrow, and Benjamin should be home by now, too.”
“Benjamin!” Benjamin and he had grown up together, close as two neighbors could be. With a boy’s short attention span, Rowan forgot Jewel immediately. “I’m going to sleep now, so tomorrow will come faster.” And with that, he took off down the corridor, to his own room across from Lily’s.
“What a rude awakening,” Rose said.
Violet sighed. “He yanked me from the most wondrous dream.”
“Did he?” Lily picked up the candle and swept past Violet into her room, Rose right on her heels. She lit Violet’s bedside candle from her own and set them both on the night table. “What was your dream about?”
When Violet didn’t answer immediately, her sisters exchanged a look, then sat in unison on the edge of her bed. “Tell us,” Rose said.
Violet’s cheeks flushed hot. She shut the door, cocooning the three girls together. “It was nothing, really.”
Rose crossed her arms. “You said it was wondrous.”
“Oh, all right.” She dragged the stool over from her dressing table and sat facing them, setting her hands on her knees. “We were coming home—”
“We?” Lily interrupted.
“Ford and myself. From the Royal Society reception.”
“How did that go?” Rose asked. “I tried to stay up to hear, but you got home so late—”
“Hush,” Lily said. “The dream first.”
Violet’s cheeks warmed. “It wasn’t that late.” After all the excitement in the corridor, her dream was fading fast. She shut her eyes, reaching for the memory. “We were riding home in his carriage, but it seemed
