Violet wondered when young Lily had become so wise. “I never thought of it that way,” she murmured, more confused than ever.
Her two sisters exchanged a glance. “Did he kiss you again?” Rose asked.
“Maybe.” Violet stood and resumed pacing—then stopped, wondering if it were a habit she’d picked up from Ford. Feeling her sisters’ gazes on her, she turned to face the wall. “Very well, he did.”
“And was it as marvelous as before?” When Violet failed to answer, Lily rose and came up behind her, placing a hand on her arm. “If you love him,” she said softly, “why won’t you consider marriage?”
“He hasn’t asked me.” Violet twisted out of her sister’s grasp. And because Ford had as much as said he loved her, something in her middle twisted as well. “And even if he did ask me, I would wonder if it were only for my inheritance. I’m not the type of girl who inspires love.”
Compassion flooded Lily’s deep blue eyes. “We love you, Violet!”
“You’re my sisters. That’s different.”
“Now I see why you’re so upset,” Rose said. “You wish he would sell watches and make a lot of money. Because if he still kissed you then, you’d know it was for yourself.”
That could be so, Violet realized. Rose was far too shrewd for her comfort.
Lily stepped closer. “Or is it your dream of publishing you don’t want to give up? Are you afraid that if you marry, your money will go to your husband instead of your dream?”
“No. Not that.” Maybe she would have agreed with Lily last month. But although she still wanted to write a philosophy book, she had new dreams now.
Yet she was sure, deep down, that if Ford were suddenly showered with gold—or figured out how to make gold himself—those new dreams still wouldn’t come true. And it irritated her that she’d even begun dreaming. She used to be content with her lot, and that had been much easier.
“My own money has nothing to do with it,” she said. “I just hate to see wasted potential. It disagrees with the practical in me.”
“But Violet,” Lily said quietly, “what is it you really want?”
Good question, Violet thought. She didn’t know anymore. “Maybe we should talk of something else.”
Rose shrugged, then grinned. “We could read more of the Master-piece.” She snatched the book off Violet’s bedside table. “Where did we leave off?”
“Here, give it to me.” With a sigh, Violet took the book and climbed into bed.
Lily ran around to the other side, and the three of them huddled together beneath the covers. “Just like old times,” Lily said. “Do you remember when we couldn’t read yet, Violet, and you used to read to us at night?”
“Read to us again, big sister,” Rose lisped, stretching her mouth wide in a silly, babyish smile.
Giggling, Violet turned to the next chapter. “‘Chapter Seventeen: A Word of Advice to Both Sexes, Being Several Directions Respecting Copulation.’”
Rose rubbed her hands together. “Sounds like a good one.”
“That’s strange…” Violet flipped a page, fingering the book’s binding. “It appears most of the pages in this chapter are missing.”
“Oh, no!” Rose looked crestfallen.
“I can’t believe I never noticed before.” Violet closed the book and examined the tailband at the bottom of the spine. “Look, you can even see a little gap.”
“Could they have fallen out just recently?” Lily asked. “Maybe the pages are somewhere in your room, or in the summerhouse.”
“No, it looks like they were cut out.” Violet turned back to Chapter Seventeen to show them the skinny strips of paper still attached to the binding.
“Hang it!” Rose leapt out of bed with an angry huff. “Someone ruined the book!”
Lily shook her head. “Who would do such a thing?”
“It must have happened before Mr. Young sold it.” Violet shrugged. “I’m sure he didn’t know the book was damaged.”
“I suppose,” Rose said with a pout. “I bet they were the best pages, so someone decided to take them.”
“Maybe.” Lily looked disappointed, too.
Violet raised her chin. “Get back in bed, Rose. We’ve got plenty more to read.”
“Very well,” Rose grumbled as she climbed back under the covers. “Let’s get on with whatever’s left of Chapter Seventeen.”
FORTY-FOUR
FOR THE DOZENTH time, Ford turned over in his bed. Though his project was finished, for some exasperating reason he still found himself sleepless in the wee hours of the morning. Or perhaps it was because his project was finished.
It was time to leave Lakefield.
Tabitha’s elopement was behind him. Far behind him. So far behind him, he wondered what he’d ever seen in her—on the rare occasions he thought of her at all.
His watch was completed, and although he had another idea to add a chime to wake the watch’s owner at a certain time of the day, he could work on that at Cainewood, or even in London. With the Royal Society settled back in its old home, the meetings would be more regular. He wanted to attend them.
But though he knew he’d ruined things with Violet—though she’d made it perfectly clear in the woods this afternoon that she neither welcomed nor returned his feelings—he still found himself irrationally reluctant to leave. The very thought seemed to cause a painful squeezing sensation in his chest.
So he decided not to think.
Instead he climbed from the bed and wrapped himself in a robe. As long as he couldn’t sleep, he might as well start designing the wake-up bell.
On his way up to the laboratory, he bumped into Harry coming down. “Pardon, my lord.” Holding a candle in one hand, Harry scratched his bald head with the other. “I was just sneaking down for a
