Her voice carried so well, even their father would have turned his head. Which the fellow on the ladder did, to reveal a face splattered with paint. His clothing wasn’t faring any better. As they rode closer and came to a stop near the house, Violet watched a white blob roll down Ford’s hair and land on one of his boots.
She burst out laughing.
He backed awkwardly down the ladder and limped over to gaze up at her on her horse. He crossed his arms, then dropped them, grimacing at the white handprints he’d just made on his clothing. “What’s so funny?”
At that, her sisters burst out laughing, too.
With a supreme effort, Violet got herself under control. “What on earth,” she asked, “do you think you’re doing?”
“I told you I was going to fix this place up.”
Another little giggle escaped. “I didn’t think you meant to do it yourself.”
But her heart melted a little. Was he doing this for her?
Clasping her sides, Rose gasped, “It looks worse than when you started!”
Ford’s jaw tightened, but he ignored her and addressed Violet. ”May I speak with you for a moment? In private?”
She looked to her sisters, but this, after all, was what she had come for. So she shrugged and handed her reins to Lily, slid off Socrates, and followed Ford around the corner of the house.
The moment they were out of sight, he pinned her against the stone wall.
Her gasp of surprise was covered by his lips. The familiar weakness stole over her, and her muscles went limp as his mouth slanted over hers. He smelled of Ford and paint, and his body pressing her against the house reminded her of that day in the woods, and how he’d felt crushed against her…
Breathless, nearly senseless, she pulled back, then looked down at her gown and let out another gasp.
”Sorry,” he said. “I’ll buy you another.”
“I’m more concerned with what my family will think.”
He ran a paint-stained finger down her arm. “They’ll think I couldn’t help myself, because I’m in love with you. Which is true.”
She heaved a frustrated sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you. But I need to feel certain, and I can’t seem to do that because every time we’re together, you make me feel so…”
“In love?” he suggested.
“Confused. I can’t think straight when…when you touch me,” she finished in a whisper, her cheeks heating. “And I—”
“Oh, Violet!” Rose’s voice called sweetly from the front of the house. “Are the two of you all right back there?” Lily’s and Rowan’s giggles drifted around the corner.
Violet’s flush deepened. It was bad enough having to admit such personal things aloud to Ford. She couldn’t bear the humiliation if her siblings overheard.
“It seems,” Ford said dryly, “that we can’t talk in private here. Will you take supper with me tonight?”
“I can’t tonight. We’re having my favorite, chicken and artichoke pie, to celebrate…” She trailed off, realizing she’d almost revealed to Ford that she’d spent the last few days pleading illness and hiding out in her bedchamber, so her special birthday supper had had to be postponed until tonight. “Um, never mind. At any rate, I’m having supper with my family tonight.”
“Will you come after supper, then? Once your family is abed?”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you…you can’t be suggesting I sneak out of my house and come to you? Alone? In the middle of the night?”
“Not alone, no. I’ll wait below your window.”
“You want me to climb out a window? That would be highly impro—”
“Yes, highly improper. But nothing will happen, I promise. I won’t even touch you.” To demonstrate, he retreated a step and clasped his hands behind his back. “I want you to be able to think clearly—clear enough to realize the truth.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Can’t I just call on you tomorrow? With my parents’ permission? Or can you call on me?”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t you rather talk in private—truly in private? We’re always getting interrupted by your family, or mine, or my nosy servants. Wouldn’t it be nice to have just one conversation without anyone else getting in the way?”
As if to prove Ford’s point, Harry suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Is this the right color, milord?”
Violet jumped.
“Beg pardon, milady.” With a heavy grunt, Harry set down two buckets of what looked like paint. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Am I interrupting something?” His gaze flicked between Ford and Violet with interest.
The two exchanged a look. Silently, she nodded her assent.
“Not at all, Harry. The color’s perfect.” Ford clapped his houseman on the shoulder. “Will this do for all the trim?”
Harry laughed. “Not hardly. There’s more in the cart.” He left, presumably to retrieve the rest.
As Ford walked Violet back to her siblings, she noticed he took care not to touch her. “I’ll be there, waiting, at midnight,” he said quietly. “Beneath your window.”
Under her breath, she muttered, “I am not climbing out a window.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
IN THE END, she didn’t climb out a window.
Instead she sneaked out a back door.
Thanks to the state of her gown, Rose and Lily had teased Violet mercilessly all the way home from Lakefield. No matter that she had a reputation for tripping, they’d refused to believe her excuse about stumbling and falling against wet paint.
After bathing and donning a fresh gown, she endured yet more teasing through three courses of supper. Even Father and Mum had joined in. Violet had stared daggers at her siblings, wondering which of them had told their parents about the paint.
By the time she retired to her bedchamber, she was in a stormy mood. This was all Ford’s fault, the scoundrel. He’d sent her off in her paint-stained gown with nary a second thought. He’d fed her to the wolves.
Well, he’d pay the price, she vowed, diving into bed and yanking the covers up to her chin.
On no account would she go along with his scheme. Not after what he’d
