The two dark-haired gentlemen were his older brothers, the redhead his twin sister. Although Ford was the only one of the four siblings blessed with those spectacular blue eyes—the rest had eyes of green—they all bore a marked resemblance to one another, and she thought she might be able to keep them straight.
Their spouses and all those children, however, were another matter altogether.
And she wanted to make a good impression. Suddenly that seemed very important.
“Are those spectacles?” one of the ladies asked. The raven-haired one. Faith, who was she?
Feigning unconcern, Violet removed the eyeglasses and forced a smile. “They are. Ford made them for me and designed these frames to hold them on my face.” She handed them to the lovely violet-eyed woman. “The members of the Royal Society were all very impressed.”
As had happened at Gresham College, they passed the spectacles around, exclaiming over them and trying them on and praising Ford for his brilliance. Watching with a plastered-on smile and a growing feeling of dread, Violet realized she couldn’t remember who anyone was except Jewel. Too many names, too many faces. Too many people at a party that was supposed to have been private and painless.
She wasn’t happy about that, but she was happy to be by Ford’s side. Belying her expectations, he was treating her with the same mix of teasing regard he always had. Did that mean he still cared for her?
She needed to know. She was desperate for an excuse to slip away to somewhere the two of them could be alone. Perhaps she’d take him to their hidden spot in the woods. She’d tell him she would be honored to become his wife. And then she’d let him kiss away all her lingering fears and misgivings—every last, lingering doubt—until she was filled with nothing but certainty that marrying him was the right choice.
But she couldn’t do any of that, because his entire family was here. Not to mention hers.
The sun was hurting her eyes, or maybe it was all these people making her head ache. Her blurred gaze wandered to the summerhouse. One of the doors stood open, and it looked blessedly dim and peaceful inside. Maybe…
Her mother rang a bell, and everyone looked to her. “My husband wishes to speak,” she called.
Faith, Violet thought, Father was going to embarrass her in front of Ford and all his family.
One of Ford’s sisters-in-law returned her spectacles, and she shoved them back on her face. Everyone began making their way over to her father, who stood by a table laden with who-knew-what, all hidden beneath a bright white cloth.
As they walked, Ford slipped an arm around Violet’s waist, and she glanced about to see if anyone noticed, catching the eye of one of his brothers. The marquess? Or the earl? Whoever he was, he winked at her, and despite everything, a smile spread over her face.
With all her heart, she wanted Ford’s family to like her.
When her father cleared his throat, she turned.
“Due to the terms of my own father’s will, the age of eighteen holds unusual significance in our family. And I’ve two special surprises,” he announced, “to celebrate our Violet’s special birthday.”
Theatrically he whipped off the cloth, revealing a table covered in an artistic arrangement of fruits and fancy sweets, plus one homely cherry tart set off to the side.
“A pineapple?” Lily gasped, staring at the centerpiece, a prickly brown fruit raised on a pedestal. “Is it real? Wherever did you get a pineapple?” Pineapples were so rare in this part of the world, King Charles had had himself painted with one.
“May I try it?” Rowan yelled. “Oh, please, please!”
“Please, please!” four other children echoed, taking up the chant. “Please!”
“There isn’t enough for everyone,” Ford said loudly, sweeping his siblings with an accusatory glance. “You weren’t invited here, remember?”
“Nonsense,” Father said. “Yes, it is real, and yes, everyone may try it. A bite, at least. But first”—he paused and looked toward the door—“here comes the second surprise.” Four housemaids and two footmen approached, each holding a thick green bottle in one hand and stemmed glasses in the other. “The new French champagne. Who will have a taste?”
“Me!” Rowan yelled. “Me! Me!”
“Me! Me!” Ford’s nephews and nieces joined in.
“You’re too young,” Rose told Rowan. “Champagne is too costly to water down.”
Father looked to Mum. “Wash her gown in champagne?”
“Water down the champagne, darling. But we won’t be doing that.” Mum scanned the gathering. “Rowan may certainly have a taste,” she announced, “as may any other children whose parents agree.”
The maids poured while the footmen bore the esteemed pineapple back to the kitchen to be sliced.
Father handed the glasses around and raised his in a toast. “To our Violet, on the anniversary of her birth.” The center of attention, Violet felt her face burn. “May she live in health and happiness another eighteen years times four.”
“Hear, hear,” everyone said, smiling in her direction.
Whoever they all were.
She looked down and took a cautious sip. “It’s like drinking stars,” she breathed. She’d never tasted anything like it. It tickled the back of her throat.
Rowan spewed his mouthful onto the grass. “Zounds, I’ve got bubbles up my nose. Ick.” Violet cringed at her brother’s lack of manners, but at least no one had to worry about him drinking too much, since he immediately set down his glass.
“It’s an acquired taste,” a golden-haired gentleman told him. The duke, Violet remembered, congratulating herself. Though Ford had introduced him as Trick.
Well, that was one memorable name.
Lily looked awed. “Have you tried it before, your grace?”
Trick nodded. “It’s all the rage at court.”
“Have you been to court, then?” Rowan asked.
Jewel elbowed him. “Of course he has, you goose. He’s a duke!”
Rose sighed. “I’ve never been to court. Father won’t allow it. He says it isn’t a place for nice, unmarried girls.”
“A wise decision,” Trick said dryly.
Ford bent down to whisper in Violet’s ear. “The bucks at court
